Hawk

2 - In the dead of night

Brooke

I was always told that love is supposed to conquer all. I was always told to love others as I want to be loved and treat them the way I wish to be treated. My father was adamant that my siblings and I lived by that... Just so long as we have never dated a man or woman of color.

Whites only.

Period!

My father is incredibly racist. He refuses to see a black doctor at the hospital, refuses to shop in a store that hires people of color, and even refuses to allow us to attend school in case we were taught by colored teachers or mixed with colored students. He’s that racist.

None of my siblings ever dated anyone of color – apart from my big sister a couple of years ago – each one of them sharing my father’s views.

Me, on the other hand?

I fell for a man whose mother was of mixed race, and when I say fell, I mean hard.

Hawk was the kind of man who commanded a room the second he walked into it. Everyone would turn to see him striding in. All eyes would stay on him until he’d tip his head in greeting. He was beautiful, tall, muscle-clad; his skin was a light mocha color, his eyes pale hazel-gray, his hair a mass of dark, loose curls that hung around his neck; his cut and the way he wore it so proudly had me weak at the knees for him, and I was hooked the second I laid eyes on him.

He danced with me that first night. He held me close and kissed me as no man had ever kissed me before. I felt too weak to do anything but let him lead us. This big bad biker man, who made my heart pound in ways I didn't even know were possible.

Hawk took me home with him. I knew I shouldn’t have gone, but my parents believed I was staying with a friend, and I knew she would cover for me. Hawk made me feel so special, and he didn't expect anything from me. However, I wanted to give him everything. He made love to me before fuckin.g me like I never have or never would be again.

In the strip club where I met him – I wasn’t stripping; my friend dragged me there in her pursuit of a man she’d been chasing for months – is where he told me a week later that I belonged to him, and I agreed because I had never wanted anything more. I just felt so safe with him, and I cannot even explain it.

Hawk was a member of a motorcycle club, Snakes Henchmen MC. I was a little wary of what that meant. I would be a liar if I said it didn’t frighten me a little. I’d heard of his club before, as everyone in this town had. However, my fear dissipated the second Hawk kissed me. He told me that no one there would harm me because I was his girl.

His whole club welcomed me with open arms. I had never felt so wanted in my life. The women treated me like a sister; even their children called me Aunt Brooke. Hawk’s mother and father seemed to love me like their own. I loved that about them. Hawk’s father, BlackJack, is also a member of Snakes Henchmen. A well-respected member.

I have no idea how, but I managed to keep my relationship with Hawk a secret from my father for thirteen months, but I did. He never once realized what was happening right under his nose. Even though I was wearing a leather jacket with Property of Hawk embroidered on it, I made sure my father never saw it. I wore it with pride while I was with Hawk and tucked it away in the barn before I got home.

My dad ended up finding it one night. He burned it in front of me and said being part of a biker gang was not something he’d put up with from his daughter. I sobbed and begged him to give Hawk a chance, but he wouldn’t listen. He beat the hell out of me and told me should I ever see Hawk again, he’d kill him.

The next day, he barged into my room, dragged me from my bed, and beat the hell out of me again. I had no idea what for. I begged him to tell me what I had done wrong. He yelled how he’d been to confront Hawk, to tell him to stay away from me. Hawk’s mother was there, and my father was furious.

Hawk wasn’t dark in color, but it was undeniable that he came from black heritage. He was beautiful beyond words, and up until that moment, he was all mine. I didn’t care that Hawk had a mixed-race mother. I didn’t care that he came from black heritage. I don’t see color or race, just people, and I loved him so much. I loved his whole family. They always treated me like I belonged with them. I never saw Hawk for anything other than who he was, the man I loved. I didn’t share my father’s views on anything in this world. He was immoral, racist, a vile man who cared for nothing and no one but himself.

My sister and I both forever thought that what my father drummed into us as children was wrong. People are people. My sister Marnie would tell me we all bleed, love, cry, grieve, and laugh the same.

What the hell does it matter if the color of our skin isn’t the same?

What does it matter if our cultures and beliefs are different?

Never let anyone poison your mind, Brooke. Live and love the way you wish others to love you.

She was right.

My father confronted the man I loved and demanded that he stay away from me, but it didn’t stop Hawk from coming to my father’s farm and demanding that he see me and that my father allow me to leave with him.

My father pulled out his shotgun and held it to Hawk’s chest while he caught me by my arm and told me to tell Hawk how I didn’t love him, that he was nothing to me, that I’d used him for my amusement. I couldn’t, and my father struck me. God, he hit me so hard I fell to the floor in a heap.

The two other bikers with Hawk, Stryker, and Ghost threatened my father that if he touched me again, they’d kill him. I jumped to my feet and begged them to leave. They were my friends and my chosen family, but it wouldn’t have changed anything.

Hawk begged me to leave with him, that he would protect me, but I couldn’t. If I went, my father would never stop hunting me until he either killed Hawk or me or both of us. Then there was the fact I’d never see my sister again. Ultimately, I screamed at him, telling him exactly what my father wanted me to say to him, that I didn’t love him, how I never had. He left, and I haven’t seen him since.

However, my life hasn’t been easy these past six months. Life has been worse than hell. I’ve tried to be the good daughter, the good sister, but I’m the baby of the family, the letdown, the no-good slut. Even my mother stopped sticking up for me.

I worked hard on the farm, harder than I ever had before. I ensured the horses were cleaned every morning, brushed down, and fed. I worked my hands until they bled some days.

Was it enough to appease my father?

Not a chance.

I concluded a few hours ago that I had to leave the farm. I had to go and never come back. I have no choice. However, I knew I would have to wait until everyone was asleep. I wouldn’t even get out of the door if I didn’t.

I had to leave in the early hours before my father rose for early morning chores with my brothers. Before the woman, my father called yesterday arrived. I don’t have a choice. I won’t have a little monkey in my family, no matter how white he may appear, he said.

I could cry all I liked, but it wouldn’t change a thing, he said. He said one night was all I would get, and that was being kind.

One night would never be enough.

How does a woman hand over the baby she would die for?

Gabriel is just ten hours old, and I’ve already been beaten, whipped, and made to feel like my son is going to be taken from me. I would never wait for that to happen, no matter what my father does to me. He would have to pry my baby out of my cold, dead hands before I’d hand him over.

That’s why, right now, I’m walking in nothing but my shorts and a tank top, flip-flops on my feet, my baby boy in my arms, wrapped in a blanket, as I make my way to Hawk’s clubhouse. It’s miles away from my father’s farm, and I shouldn’t be walking this far after just giving birth; I haven’t had time to heal. My father beat me so badly I can hardly breathe through the pain. However, I won’t give up until I get where I need to be.