Page 17 of Songbird: Black Kite
Gritting my teeth, I thrust one more time, going so hard and deep that I could feel Victoria’s other foot leave the ground, and I groaned loudly, filling the condom and dropping my head to the wall behind her as I released her mouth and listened to her harsh breaths.
I felt like shit.
That was supposed to have felt good, like revenge or vengeance, or something. But instead, I just felt even worse than I had before I’d dragged Tori down this stupid hallway.
Because even my attempt at evening the score with Lewis felt fake.
My retribution had been more of a reckoning, and I was the one found lacking.
Footsteps behind me had Tori stiffening beneath me, and when I pulled back, I watched as she quickly wiped away a tear and tugged down her dress.
“You’re such an asshole, Hawk,” she barked before hurrying away.
I removed the condom and pocketed it, zipping my pants as I turned, coming face to face with a furious Lewis.
“You son of a bitch,” he snarled lowly.
“What?” I asked, feigning casual. “Don’t be mad at me. She’d been begging for it for years. Figured it was time to finally give it to her.”
He swung for me, and I didn’t even move as his punch landed solidly on my face, my cheekbone lighting up with pain I more than deserved.
Staring at him, I smirked as he shook out his hand.
“That’s your one free shot, Lewis. Get your shit together.”
Ignoring his growled reply, I pushed past him and signaled to Charlie that it was time to go. I let him lead me out of the VIP and through the club, pushing out onto the Strip where a massive crowd of paparazzi greeted me, shouting and hollering at me like a pack of rabid animals.
“Hawk! Is it true you’re leaving the band?”
“Are you and Alex really secret lovers?”
“Hawk! How long until you’re back in rehab?”
That one hurt. I’d done a short stint a year ago for a minor coke habit that Mick was convinced was more of a problem than a party. Thirty days in a cushy facility to make the label happy.
No big deal, and certainly no need for a repeat.
“Hawk, how come you’ve abandoned your mother and are letting her live in poverty?”
I froze, my steps halting halfway to the SUV that Charlie had been hustling me into.
“The fuck did you just say?” I asked, rounding on the fucking pap who had dared speak those words.
“Your mom is living in squalor while you party it up here in Vegas. How come you’ve abandoned the woman who gave you life?”
I didn’t even think. I just balled my fist and let it fly, smashing it into the smug face of the photographer who should have known better.
Suddenly, cameras were flashing everywhere, the crush of bodies all trying to get a shot of me, standing over the cameraman who was now in a heap on the sidewalk, blood pouring from his crushed nose.
“Don’t you ever speak about my mother!” I shouted, wanting to be heard over the roar of the crowd.
The photographer lifted one hand and wiped at his face, smiling when he saw the blood and holding it up to ensure everyone got a good photo.
“Thanks, Hawk,” he said lightly, grinning at me as he slowly stood. “That little stunt just put my kids through college. I’ll see you in court, you punk-ass bitch.”
With that, he strolled away, disappearing into the crowd before I could get in another word.
Chapter eleven
