Page 148 of Filthy Love

“I didn’t fucking volunteer for this tribute. I need ice, a medic and a loose woman to give me last rites.” - Snake

It was a fool’s thought to assume all his ticks would disappear into the dust seeing how he felt peace for the first time …ever? Sleeping seven good hours, a new occurrence since he’d been in Gia’s bed. Not to mention the sex.

The out of this fucking world sex that fed his addiction to her one spoonful at a time.

All that good from the one amazing woman who was kind as she was beautiful and understanding for all the shit he didn’t say but tried to tell her with actions.

All that didn’t mean shit when his head was still wired wrong.

Bouncing on his tiptoes. Sweat dripped into Hawk’s eyes. He swiped it away with the side of his hand, never taking his gaze from the man in front of him.

“I think you busted out my spleen,” doubled over, Snake huffed and groaned and poked at his ribcage, whining like a little girl. On the outer edges of the raised ring he could see Pretty-boy and Arson working out on the treadmills. Further down, in their basement gym Texas was lifting weights listening to an audiobook through big headphones.

The groaning in front of him continued. “Seriously, you, fucking lunatic, I think you dislodged something, I can feel it sloshing from side to side.”

Both men wore basketball shorts, sneakers, boxing gloves and not much else apart from bruises and workout perspiration.

Unrepentant. He smirked. “Walk it off. Come on.” Bouncing lightly, he gestured Snake forward. He needed more activity.

Snake puffed out a laugh and straightened to almost the same height as Hawk. Silver glittered in Snake’s ears, sweat oozing down his face and body, a little bruised now he’d gone a few rounds with Hawk in the sparring ring.

“Why the fuck did I volunteer for this again? Come to think of it. I didn’t. It should be Prez here. Shit. Take it easy on me, VP, I wanna get laid tonight.”

“You seeing your kids soon?”

“Week after next,” Snake grinned rubbing sweat out of his eyes.

Hawk taunted. “Then don’t worry, Big daddy. You’ll be all put together in time to see your boys.”

Hawk smirked in answer to the guy’s groan as he rotated a shoulder and began circling Snake who followed his movements with jerky spins. It typically was Rider who sparred with him. But seeing as how Rider hated him right now, they’d avoided each other.

The hunt. The fight. The kill.

It all juiced his system. It gave the spark of feeling alive when his blood rushed noisily through his ears pushing out all other sounds.

He was the exhilarated kind of exhausted bouncing on his toes; physically fine, but mentally…he’d never be normal put it that way. All the club members knew it and knew to keep out of his way if he got in a mood.

Weird days hit him.

Like today. A regular fucking Friday and yet it fired his neurons in the wrong directions, ever since his eyes opened this morning, he was itchy and restless and the urge to puke was strong.

The only thing to make him appear normal was the intense workout he put his body through.

Exhaust and endure.

It was a coping mechanism that had semi-worked over the years.

Twenty-two years ago, Hawk was a lanky kid, all of fifteen. The same night he’d run away from home. More like escaped a mortal Hell.

The same night he was starving, and the gnaw in his belly had him desperately scouring the back of restaurants and bars for food debris in the dumpsters when a down and out drunk offered him a free meal to suck him off.

It was the first time Hawk had gotten blood on his hands. He’d morphed into a wild, furious animal in seconds, disgusted with fury. As skinny as he’d been back then, with hardly any muscle on his teenage body, he’d nearly killed that lecherous drunk in a dirty alleyway.

He ate well that night after he stole the guys wallet.

Twenty-two years didn’t make the memories swirling sting any less for why he’d run away. He was sure sometimes when he woke up in a cold sweat that he was still there, amid the horror in that house and the bile careening up his windpipe when the realization of his situation became as clear as a nightmare.

Being an expressionless asshole suited him for thirty-seven years. Knowing it made people uncomfortable because they could never read him right and really who could give a fuck about what others thought, was always Hawk’s thought.

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