Craving Hawk (The Aces' Sons 3)

Chapter 2

Thomas

“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” my dad said the minute Heather was back inside.

“Grease,” Uncle Casper murmured in warning.

“He coulda burned the entire fuckin’ place down,” Dad shot back. He turned to me and scowled. “The fuck are you doin’ out here anyway?”

“Came out to have a smoke,” I replied, clenching my jaw.

“You coulda smoked out front,” he argued, “you came out here to fuck around with that girl.”

“Does it fuckin’ matter?” I blurted, throwing my hands up.

“Movin’ in on your brother’s girl—”

“What?” Dragon asked, his voice a low rumble.

“She wasn’t his girl,” I snapped. “Doesn’t really matter if she was. My brother’s been in the ground for almost three goddamn years.”

I didn’t see the punch coming, but I’d still expected it. I’d known it was coming since the minute my dad had mentioned my baby brother.

“Jesus Christ,” Casper muttered, shoving my dad backward.

“You stay away from her,” my dad ordered, letting Casper shove him back another step. “She ain’t for you.”

I stood there silently as my dad spun on his heel and walked away, Casper following behind him. When they made it back inside the clubhouse, I turned to Dragon.

“That an official order?” I asked, digging my cigarettes out of my pocket like I didn’t give a fuck.

“No,” Dragon spat, shaking his head. “But you’re really gonna fuck shit up with your parents over a piece of ass?”

“Never said I was,” I mumbled around a cigarette, patting my pockets until I found my lighter. “But usin’ Mick as an excuse for shit is gettin’ really fuckin’ old.”

“Your parents are grievin’,” Dragon murmured, walking over to a picnic table and sitting down. “Losin’ a kid…” He shook his head.

“Know that,” I mumbled, exhaling smoke through my nose. “But Heather? That shit’s just stupid. Her and Mick were never together.”

“Not what your parents think.”

“They didn’t even say hi to her when she showed up.”

“She didn’t say shit to them either,” Dragon reminded me, leaning back on his elbows. “Pretty sure they were just followin’ her lead.”

“Her and Mick weren’t together,” I said again, annoyed that I found myself defending a nonexistent relationship with a chick I barely knew anymore. “Wasn’t like that.”

“Don’t think it matters,” Dragon replied, brushing his hands against his dirty jeans as he stood back up. “They see that girl as his, nothin’ you do is gonna change that.”

“It’s bullshit,” I muttered.

“It is what it is,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder as he moved past me. “Now take that thing out front before you start another goddamn fire.”

I let out a rusty laugh as he strode back inside and glanced down at my cigarette. No way in hell was I going out front to get fucked with by everyone who’d just seen me light the stupid yard on fire. I couldn’t believe she’d backhanded me. I’d instinctively dropped my hands to make sure she wasn’t going to swing again and I’d completely forgotten about the cigarette dangling from my fingertips.

She’d always been the chick that acted before thinking shit through. I should have seen the hit coming. She’d be the first person to jump off high rocks at the river, the first one to hang on an old, frayed rope swing. She talked smack to people she shouldn’t and gave the finger to pretty much everyone. My baby brother had been the only person I’d ever seen rein her in. After he was gone, I probably should have checked in on her, but I’d been dealing with my own shit.

I pinched out my smoke as I dragged my ass around the side of the clubhouse. There was an RV and a trailer parked near the garage bays with long extension cords connecting them to the club’s power, and six tents spread out in the grass for those of us who didn’t rate a room inside. Like me. As a prospect, I was a peon at the club still, and I had no idea how long I’d be stuck in limbo. I knew a lot more than the other prospects, it came with being the son of the VP, but I still had to pay my dues. That shit sucked. Especially when I knew shit was going down, but I was expected to stay back at the club with the old ladies.

I shucked my boots and crawled inside my tent with a groan. My balls were still sore as hell. After stripping out of everything but my boxer briefs, I searched through my duffle stored in the corner and finally found what I was looking for. It wasn’t like I had to hide it, but with all the kids running around I didn’t want little hands finding it.

I loaded up my pipe and grabbed my lighter out of my jeans, and after the first inhale I could feel myself starting to mellow. By the time I was cleaning the pipe out, I knew I’d be able to sleep. Sometimes I couldn’t. Sometimes I woke up yelling. And sometimes I had nightmares that left me jonesing for an Adderall the next day so I wouldn’t have to deal with them again that night.