Page 171 of Filthy Love

Right or wrong, she was his.

He fell in love with her when she was little more than a baby girl on the budding crest of womanhood and it only became nastier with the years.

Hawk was hers to do as she wanted with his of no-value-self.

He was a seasoned biker, with crime and death so large it was etched into his skin. He held little remorse for the things he’d done or seen. He had little to no empathy for others pain and suffering. If he was at their door with a death warrant, then it was a fucking certainty they deserved it. Why would he feel guilty for that?

But knowing he was about to put a shit ton of darkness into her sweet, tender heart … fuck, the guilt nearly choked him.

The words weren’t planned, though he’d had this imaginary conversation with Gia a million times already. He’d picture her face twisted in disgust and how she’d leave him afterward

He inhaled once. And twice.

“I didn’t know it at the time, but my abuse began with my birth.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

“It’s like pulling off a band-aid. Only, I’m bleeding to death in front of her sympathy.” - Hawk

Tense energy zipping up his legs made Hawk pop to his feet.

No fucking way he could keep still.

Tell her everything and let the chips fall where they may. That was the plan here, but fuck if he could keep still while he did it.

Hawk paced.

And he paced some more.

An animal stalking its cage as he tried to rearrange the order of words stuck in his throat.

All he wanted to do was get far away from this conversation. Climb onto his bike and ride until exhaustion set in.

Now he had to break its chain, so he could have something good.

“Hawk. It’s okay, you only have to tell me what you want to.”

Going through his coping mechanism was shot since Gia usually was his go to for all things calm. He would normally have stood aside, somewhere she couldn’t see him lurking like a fucking creeper, and he’d pray all her sweetness and gentle smiles would somehow soak into his nastiness and stop the roaring of voices inside his head.

He wasn’t an actual mental case, but he wasn’t far from it.

“I’ve been out in the cold for ten years, Gia. You can’t shut me out. That’s what I’m trying to do, be who you deserve, no secrets.”

“Oh, baby. You’ll never be there again. We have each other now.”

Rider always said it was Hawk’s own stubbornness the only reason that stopped him being a crazy fucker. His prez wasn’t wrong. As much as emotions now didn’t touch him, or never used to. He was steeped in those little shits now.

He fixed a stare somewhere over her left shoulder when he was ready, not wanting to see her eyes when he said what he was about to.

“You need to know I don’t want you to hear any of this. None of it. I don’t want it polluting your mind like it’s ruined mine.” Her eyes got watery. “I’ll let you decide. I wish I was strong enough, man enough to fucking let you go, Gia. You’re in here.” He thumped his chest. “For what it’s worth.”

“It’s worth.” she croaked. “What—what you said. Do you want to begin there?”

Choosing the furthest chair from her, he sat, braced his feet out wide and rested both elbows on his knees, letting his too-heavy head fall on his neck. “I wasn’t raised in a neglected home. It was one of those nice red brick places with a porch and a back deck. Nice neighborhood that held cookouts on Fourth of July and Labor Day. I had food, clothes, the regular shit you’re meant to give your kid. I was home-schooled and had a few neighborhood friends. At least for a couple of years.” Picture fucking perfect as people thought. But as he knew pictures could deceive. “Lisette Hawk and Xavier Abaddon. The upstanding parents.” He nearly spit to even say their names.

Gia looked to be holding her breath. “The woman who called is your mom?”

Hawk confirmed with a grunt. Though he was loath to call her by any kind of title.

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