Hawk's Property: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 1) (9 page)

A loud ping from her phone broke the stillness. She opened the text.

Luke:
Last night was great. Had the best time ever. U?

Cara:
Ya, was cool.

Luke:
Later today? Do something?

Cara:
Not 2nite. Working.

Luke:
On a Sat?

Cara:
I don’t have regular paycheck. Work for myself.

Luke:
U don’t have to. U could have big pay and Sat off.

Another ping. Cara opened the text.

Hawk:
Hey, babe.

Cara:
Where r u?

Hawk:
Miss me?

Cara rolled her eyes as she pictured his smirking face.

Cara:
R u at motel?

Another beep.
So much for a quiet moment.
Rubbing the back of her neck, she released a heavy sigh.

Luke:
What u doing?

Cara:
Client texting me 2.

Luke:
This is your day off. Get rid of him.

Cara:
Can’t go out 2nite. Got 2 go. Bye.

She switched back to her conversation with Hawk.

Cara:
R u at motel?

Hawk:
Maybe.

Cara:
Need to know.

Hawk:
Want to visit me? Let’s get together later.

Cara:
This is serious.

Hawk:
Am serious.

Cara:
Not in mood 4 this. Come to office early Mon.

Hawk:
Need to see u b4 then.

Cara:
Can’t. Come Mon. Going. Bye.

She threw her phone on the side table. It vibrated angrily against the glass tabletop. Cara shook her head; she was not going to answer. Hawk was so arrogant, and he annoyed the crap out of her. Why did she let him get under her skin? Many of her clients didn’t listen to her advice—it went along with being a lawyer. She’d get pissed at them, but then she’d let it go and move on to the next case. Why couldn’t she see Hawk as just another one of her cases?

His being sexy was a stumbling block, and there was no way women wouldn’t drool over his chiseled features, sculpted body, and firm ass. But Cara felt something more with him, and she hated like hell to admit it. The whole situation would be easier if she just lusted after him, but behind those blue eyes, she perceived glimmers of vulnerability. She wanted to know him better, even though every sane thought in her brain screamed out against it.

Sipping her lemonade, she thought about how wonderful and sexy his lips felt against hers. Luke’s kisses the night before were weak compared to Hawk’s possessive ones. With his touch, his eyes, and his words, Hawk commanded submission. Cara sensed that it pissed him off having to take direction from her, and Cara understood this because she also needed to be in control, and she hated when men bossed her around. She was a strong woman and didn’t need a sexy biker invading her life, but she had to admit, the idea of having someone else take control sometimes was enticing. Shouldering everything felt like a burden at times, and even though she longed to unload some of the weight, she was afraid to let go.

Her mind drifted back to Luke. Sherrie was right—Luke didn’t do anything for her. Even though they had a pleasant evening and he was nice enough, he didn’t light any sparks inside her. The steakhouse they went to was good, the conversation agreeable, and his goodnight kisses were sweet, but truth be told, she’d rather have stayed home with a good book. The night was, well… sort of dull, like walking through tepid water. It wasn’t Luke’s fault—he tried to show her a good time, and he was earnest in demonstrating to her why they would make the perfect couple. Hers, then? Maybe, but she knew one thing for sure—it was ninety-five percent Hawk’s fault.

On her date, there were three of them: Cara, Luke, and Hawk.
Damn that man
. He’d entered her thoughts all night. Being with Hawk was like walking through a hurricane, and she wished he were the one holding her close under the stars at the nightclub. Instead of Luke’s sloppy kisses, she had yearned for Hawk’s demanding ones. Ever since the office “incident,” her body craved Hawk’s hands, and she couldn’t stop replaying the feel of his lips on hers, his hands caressing her, his warm breath igniting her.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Cara’s cell beeped again. Ignoring it, she walked toward her vegetable garden to tackle the weeds. The afternoon clouds over the mountains were turning dark gray, signaling a thunderstorm may roll in. Along with the threatening clouds, a cool breeze chased away the heat from earlier in the day, making it a perfect time to work in the garden.

Putting in her earbuds, Cara knelt on the ground and pulled weeds. In the beginning of the summer, growing her own vegetables seemed like a good idea, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. She liked the
idea
of getting her hands dirty and eating her own tomatoes, zucchini, and string beans, but bent over, fighting with the weeds, she wondered what had gotten into her. But she wasn’t a quitter, so she pushed back her hair, knelt down, and pulled.

*     *     *

Three Harleys roared
up her driveway. Banger, Jax, and Hawk cut their engines. Looking at her modest 1920s bungalow, they exchanged surprised looks; they’d expected her to live in a mansion.

Hawk spotted Cara first as she bent over plants near the front porch, her ass cheeks dancing every time she pulled harder at the weeds. As his jeans became snugger each time her luscious globes swayed, he noticed the ink peeking out from under the waistband of her shorts. There, exposed on her lightly tanned skin, was the top of a tribal design with a hint of red; the rest of the design and colors lay hidden beneath her sexy shorts.
Fuck, that’s hot.
Hawk never figured she’d be the type to go in for a tramp stamp, but it turned him on and made his cock strain against his jeans.

Behind him, he heard Jax mutter, “Sexy ass. Damn, she’s a hottie.”

Whipping around, Hawk grabbed Jax by the front of his t-shirt. “Don’t ever fuckin’ say something like that again. Don’t even fuckin’ look at her.”

Jax, seeing daggers in Hawk’s gaze, held up his hands, gesturing toward Cara. “She’s all yours. Damn, never thought I’d see your head in your ass ’bout a bitch.”

“Damn straight. She’s all mine.” Hawk ignored the pussy-whipped comment. What could he say? He
was
acting pussy-whipped.

Banger moved toward Hawk. “I don’t have time for this shit from either of you. Don’t you think you should let your lawyer know we’re here?”

Hawk was behind Cara, and he wanted to fuck her right there, kneeling, with her delectable ass cheeks spread wide. He reached out and touched her lower back, tracing the tip of her tattoo with his finger. Jerking around, Cara’s eyes widened while she pulled out her earbuds and tried to get up all at once. Extending his hand, Hawk helped her stand.

“You startled me,” she gasped.

He winked at her as Banger and Jax stood by their parked bikes, looking her way. As she tugged at her shorts and crossed her arms over her chest, Hawk smirked and leaned in close, murmuring, “You got a nice ass.”

Her cheeks burned red, and she moved away from him. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Banger wanted to talk to you about some things, and I wanted to see you. Jax had nothing better to do.” He smiled, showing off his dimples. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she shivered, vibrating against his fingertips before she pulled away. Scratching her neck, she glanced sideways at him, watching as he flashed her a smug half-smile.

Moving toward the front porch, she waved at Banger and Jax. “I’ll be out in a minute. Make yourselves comfortable.”

*     *     *

Several minutes later,
Cara came out with four glasses of lemonade. She had changed into a less-revealing sundress and blushed as she thought of the three of them ogling her while she was bent over. The three bikers gulped down their drinks. Banger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s goin’ on with Hawk’s case?”

After Cara filled him in, she turned to Hawk and said, “My sources at the sheriff’s office told me that an arrest warrant is imminent.”

“Fuck,” Banger muttered. “I can’t have Hawk do time.”

“I’m not doing shit,” Hawk growled.

“If a warrant goes out, you’ll have to surrender yourself,” Cara said.

Hawk stared at her. For the briefest moment, Cara saw a flicker of worry, but it passed as soon as it came. She reached out and placed her hand on top of his. “Don’t worry; I’ll get all this straightened out. I’m convinced this is a frame job. I haven’t figured out why, but it is.”

Hawk jerked away from her. “I don’t go in for that pity shit, babe. Again, I’m not doing any time.”

“If you don’t surrender, it’ll make things worse. If you listen to me and let me guide you, I can help. Don’t be a macho tool on this, Hawk. If you do, you’ll be screwed.” Locking in on Banger, her eyes pleaded with him.

Clearing his throat, Banger barked, “Listen to your lawyer. I can’t lose any more brothers to the asshole badges.”

Looking at Hawk, Jax said, “If this was me instead of you, what would you tell me? Would you tell me to listen to her or be a dickhead and think I know better?”

Hawk narrowed his eyes, body rigid, hands clenched into fists. He looked at Cara, snarling, “Fuck, you’re the boss.” She smiled. “But only for this, babe. Remember that.”

She wanted to slap his face but didn’t think a lawyer should do that to her client, especially in front of witnesses. He was maddening, but at least he was going to follow her lead. That was a start.

“I’m not goin’ to some shitty motel, though. I’ll go to the safe house.”

Banger and Jax nodded in agreement. Shrugging, Cara nodded along with them. She didn’t care where he went as long as he stayed out of sight until she could figure out the warrant status. Since it was settled, unease crept around her as she sat on the porch with her three guests; she didn’t entertain bikers. Maybe she should’ve offered them beer instead of her homemade lemonade? And Hawk wasn’t making things any easier with his intense stare boring into her. She shifted in her wicker chair.

Jagged lines of lightning flashed against the darkening sky and thunder rumbled as the sky opened up, dropping torrents of rain and hail. The trees groaned as the wind bent their branches. Cara’s dress swept up under a gust of cool wind, and, rushing to the screen door, she yelled, “Come on in.”

Inside, a welcoming living room greeted them—hardwood floors and an open floor plan made the house seem modern in spite of its 1920s architectural designs. Post-modern and impressionist artwork adorned the pale yellow walls, and built-in bamboo bookcases held leather-bound books. The pillowy sofa and chairs by the fireplace lent an air of coziness to the room.

Cara gestured for the guys to sit down. Their blue jeans, leather boots, and patched cuts didn’t blend in with her casual, yet chic décor, and she stifled a giggle—they looked so out of place.

Breaking the silence, Banger said, “What smells so good?”

“Yeah, it’s like we’re in an Italian restaurant, or something,” Jax agreed.

Smiling, Cara nodded toward her gourmet kitchen. “I’m making meat sauce for tomorrow’s dinner. My family usually has Sunday dinner together, and I’m having it here.”

“If it tastes anything like it smells, that’ll be one helluva dinner.” Banger licked his lips.

“I’ve made a ton. Do you want to have dinner? I was going to make pasta and a salad. You’re more than welcome to join me.”

“If it didn’t smell so good, I’d pass, but I gotta try that sauce. Spaghetti’s always been my favorite. Do you have meatballs, too?” Banger was practically salivating.

“Meatballs, too. Let me grab you guys some beer and I’ll start dinner.” Cara handed the remote control to Jax. “You can watch TV while I get dinner going. I’ll bring out some munchies. It’ll take a while to boil the pasta.”