Page 33 of Filthy Love

He ached to see her again. If anything, the addiction had worsened.

He really needed to see Rider about returning home. He’d done as much recon as he could on Rex and his two sons, who as far as Hawk could tell were not involved in whatever scheme Rex had going with thebratva.

He needed home and he needed away from Gia Marinos.

“Nah. Got shit to do, man.”

He showered. He dressed. And he let Krusher chew the fat with him for an hour.

While his mind was with Gia.

He was itchy under his skin. In that place his heart should be. The fucking thing continued to beat, refused to give up and just let him die already. It thumped harder when she was near and mourned when she was away from him. It ruled him and forced him to do and say things he wouldn’t say and do as a normal man.

Tainted, wasn’t he?

And drawn inexplicably to a woman who meant more to him than even his own life.

In comparison, Gia was his life, because love was a mental illness. He was sure of it now. It corroded his brain, ruled his gut, made him dream and wish and hope.

And one smile from Gia was the balm to all his demonic noises. The voices of old whispering how evil he was all dissipated when she was close.

And for that he was truly an addict.

A dirty, filthy fucking addict.

For all his agonies of life, he could truly say he loved.

He loved wrong. But he loved. There was beauty in that tragedy. Like he was Christ on his fucking Gia cross. Bleeding out one drop at a time in hopes she was happy in the end.

Beside which, he was a complete dumb-fuck and acknowledged it. Because he wanted every scrap of Gia’s attention. He wanted to soak it in until it ran dry and she had no more left.

No good.

Not worth anything.

His disturbed choir that lived in the back of his brain were always there to remind him why he needed to stay the hell away from her.

No one punished Hawk like Hawk punished Hawk, so his stubborn jaw tightened, determined he’d have no part in whatever friendship she was offering to him.

The hunger could starve.

He’d live and continue to be a miserable motherfucker. So, the regular scheduling. He almost laughed.

Casting his eyes across the table, he monitored the old guy shrewdly before selecting one of his dominos and laid it on the table.

“Shit. you’re getting good at this,” remarked Krusher, studying the tiles, looking for a way to beat Hawk.

“Your eyesight isn’t what it used to be, old man,” smirked Hawk, his mouth twitching. “You watched too much porn.”

Krusher guffawed. “I like my women on my lap, son. Not on no TV screen.”

Was this Hawk’s life, he wondered while he waited for Krusher to take his turn. Would he reach the same age and still be hanging around the club because he had nothing better going on in his life? No kids, or in Krusher’s case, kids that were too damn busy to bother with him.

A heavy weight filled Hawk’s belly. Not a lot to look forward to.

His cell vibrated against his leg. About to ignore it, he fished it out and saw Gia’s name. Automatically his entire body to hear her voice.

“Gia?”

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