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Hawk
Hawk rode down the narrow road with Ice and Kid but his mind wasn’t on the road. He kept going over the break-in at the yard and the small shit hitting some of their strip clubs and he kept coming to the same conclusion. They were being targeted. He needed to find out by whom and why. The shit that had gone down at their yard could not be glossed over. They had to make an example of someone and fucking fast.
Which was why he was on his way to talk to the man who usually heard all there was to hear.
The ride to Kosmos helped to clear his head and by the time they pulled into Zeffers he was as calm as he was going to get under the circumstances.
Zeffers was a biker pub and grill and, Wimpie Malan, the owner, made sure his pub stayed firmly in the neutral zone. Everyone was welcome, no matter which club you rode with.
Looking up at the fancy sign outside the building Hawk grinned. Wimpie had had other ideas for his establishment when he opened, which was very apparent given the name, Zephyr Restaurant. He hadn’t had a hope in hell once the bikers discovered it and changed the name from Zephyr Restaurant to Zeffers. A name that had stuck, no matter how much Wimpie complained. On Saturdays and Sundays it was packed with citizen bikers rubbing shoulders with club brothers. Wimpie’s food was legendary, his drinks well priced and his place was a favourite haunt for several clubs.
And that’s how Wimpie heard a lot of shit that he very judiciously passed along. Hawk didn’t delude himself that he was the only one on the receiving end of information. Wimpie was an equal opportunity snitch. Only he didn’t see it as snitching, he claimed that he kept the biker world on an even keel. Spreading information where it was needed and keeping his brothers breathing.
Wimpie considered everyone who rode a bike his brother. No matter if you rode a road bike, a sport bike, a scrambler or even a fucking scooter. You were part of his brotherhood. Weird, but it worked for him.
Hawk headed through the restaurant to his favourite table against the far wall next to the large open windows overlooking Hartebeespoort dam. Giving chin lifts to the brothers from other clubs relaxing with their beers as he made his way past them.
He had an uninterrupted view over the water, peaceful and glittering in the afternoon sun. No boats dragging skiers all over and no ferries either. But that would change later in the afternoon when the weekenders started arriving.
He sat with his back to the wall and Kid and Ice dragged their chairs so they had clear views, inside and outside. Setting his helmet on the extra wide windowsill Hawk acknowledged Sarie, one of the waitresses, with a slight nod when she waved at them. She was a pretty blonde with a great body she showed off in a tight fitting tank and short shorts. With a wide welcoming smile on her pretty face and her hips swaying seductively she walked over to them. He had fucked her about two weeks ago and it was obvious she was expecting another ride on his cock.
“Hi Hawk, hey guys, good to see you again. What can I get you?”
She stood with one hip cocked and her arms crossed under her big tits, pushing them up and almost out of her top. Ice and Kid grinned as they looked at the tits on offer. Hawk looked and felt...nothing. Not a thing. Just the usual disinterest after he had taken what he wanted.
“Three drafts, and tell Wimpie I’d like to talk to him.” Hawk worked hard to sound even a little bit friendly, but judging by the look on her face it hadn’t worked.
“Okay, he’s busy in the back but I’ll let him know you’re here.” She walked away, her ass cheeks on show, her hips swaying.
And he still felt nothing. Zero. Zip. Not even a tiny twitch of interest in his cock. He was definitely not going back there.
She was bending deep over their table, setting their drafts down when Wimpie appeared. Wimpie was a short, round, happy man. A round face, round body and a large belly that overhung his baggy jeans. He had a deep jovial laugh and always had a smile on his ruddy face. He was bald on top but had grown the hair he still had and wore it pulled back in a skinny grey tail down his back.
Right now though, the man was pissed, seriously pissed.
“Sarie. Wat het ek vir jou gesê?”
(Sarie. What did I tell you?)
“Ek weet. Ek weet. Ek het ander customers buite.”
(I know. I know. I’ve got other customers outside.)
Wimpie sighed, his anger falling away as he watched her stalking angrily out the wide open doors onto the veranda to attend to her other customers.
“Do me a favour, Hawk. Please don’t fuck my staff again. She’s a good waitress but now she’s dreaming of leaving here on the back of your bike. And we both know that’s never going to happen.”
Hawk frowned. “Don’t know why she would think that, it was just a fuck, Wimpie. It was a one-and-done and I made sure she knew it. We didn’t even leave the parking lot, for fuck’s sake. And not fucking liking your warning at all.”
Wimpie grinned. “Not a warning, more like me begging you not to fuck them. It’s hard enough getting them to move here in the first place. Now the bitches all think if they fuck a biker they are going to get his patch and live happily ever after in badass biker land.”
Ice and Kid burst out laughing. Hawk shook his head as he joined in the laughter. Wimpie’s huge overhanging belly shook as he laughed then mopped his sweaty face with a big khaki handkerchief.
Leaning his elbows on the table Wimpie was suddenly very serious. And as usual he passed on the information as if he was in fucking Game of Thrones.
“I’ve heard some troubling tales lately, Hawk. There are whispers about a viper hiding in plain sight, slithering around your castle, preparing to take your crown. If I were you I would call in my knights, check on the loyalty of my nobles and serfs. The strike is set to come from within. Trust no one. Male or female, my liege, no one is to be trusted.”
“Fuck, Wimpie. Do you have to always sound like you’re in Game of Thrones or something?” Kid complained.
“Best fucking show ever.” Wimpie shrugged.
Hawk ignored them as he mulled over the information and warning. He let out a hard breath as he made a decision.
“If I’m to win this war I’m going to need your ears, your loyalty. You call me, day or night, if you hear anything about my kingdom, anything at all, Wimpie.”
“You’ve got it my liege.” Wimpie enthusiastically nodded.
Picking up his draft Hawk drank deep, wiped the foam from his moustache, set the beer mug down and relaxed against the back of his chair. He was so fucking tired of all the shit he had to deal with and just sitting here having a beer with friends and looking out at the water calmed him. He knew when he got back to the clubhouse he would be back in the thick of things, so taking some time now would make it a bit easier to deal with the shit that waited for him.
The sun was setting when they left Zeffers and the road was busy, which meant they had to take it easy all the way home and it was full dark when they pulled up outside the clubhouse. The usual Friday night party was in full swing and Hawk’s belly growled when the smell of meat on the braai hit him. He hoped like hell they had enough meat on that braai because he was fucking ravenous.
As he took off his helmet and set it down on his seat a big black SUV raced into the parking area and came to a rocking stop.
What the fuck?
When the door was kicked open he realised it was Rick Townsend, a friend, and the man was pissed. Eyes burning, mouth clamped in a thin line kind of pissed.
“Rick, what the hell.....”
But that was as far as he got because suddenly the music cut off and he could hear loud angry voices emanating from his fucking clubhouse. Hawk’s easy afternoon evaporated like mist before the sun. He was seething as he stalked up the steps and into the clubhouse. Someone was going to be wearing his fucking size fourteens up his ass.
He couldn’t believe his fucking eyes when he shoved the onlookers out of his way.
A bitch he had never seen before had Dollar’s latest blonde by the hair and was snarling down at her. The bitch was short, looked a bit chunky with dark hair scraped back into a tight braid. And Dollar’s blonde bitch was clearly fucking terrified of her.
Not in his fucking house. Not fucking happening.
The dark bitch was about to learn a fucking hard lesson. Bitches did not fight in his clubhouse, not fucking ever.
And he was the one who was going to teach her that fucking lesson, right the fuck now.
