Page 15 of Hot as Hell (Royal Bastards MC, Montreal, Canada #2)

Chapter Thirteen

Razor leaned back, enjoying the playful tension in the air as he continued to screw with Hemlock.

He could see the younger brother’s eye twitch every time he mentioned Charlie being alone at Truck’s house.

Hemlock was too sharp for his own good, Razor thought, always catching the subtle glances, the stray thoughts that Razor wasn’t even aware he was giving off.

Like when Lottie caught his attention with that smile of hers.

Hemlock had noticed it, of course, and had taken every chance to needle him about it.

In the beginning, Razor hadn’t meant to ruffle his feathers, but after the teasing started to get to the brother it tickled him. Normally Hemlock was Fort Knox when it came to his personal shit. Yet something about Charlie was tearing at those thick walls Hemlock had built around him.

And at that moment, watching Hemlock appear uncomfortable at the thought of the pretty brunette alone with their brother had Razor barely able to contain his grin.

“Truck’s probably making a move on that pretty brunette. After all it is Truck. And we know how he is with the ladies. He can’t help himself.”

Hemlock shot Razor a hard look. “Charlie and I aren’t an item.

And if Truck was going to make a move on her, he’s had plenty of opportunities.

” It sounded good to Hemlock. He and Charlie had been spending a lot of time at Truck’s.

And Truck had been spending lots of time at the condo with them.

Weeks they had all been hanging out. Still, he wondered.

“But you want to be an item,” Razor said in a sarcastic tone.

Hemlock couldn’t catch a break, if he wouldn’t feel bad or want the paycheck he was getting from working at the clinic, he’d walk out. “Razor, you and I know I suck at relationships. Why would I put myself in that kind of situation.”

“Keep telling yourself that, kid, but I know you’re thinking about Truck getting busy with Charlie.” If Razor had stopped ribbing Hemlock, he might have noticed how distracted the brother was beginning to be. Instead, he walked away leaving Hemlock to dwell over what he’d just told him.

Hemlock couldn’t help but get caught up in what Razor said. Would Truck make a move on Charlie knowing how he felt about the girl? Would Charlie entertain the idea of being with Truck? His thoughts were on an infinite loop as he thought about Truck and Charlie being together, alone, at the house.

When Razor walked into an exam room, Hemlock stepped away and pulled out his phone.

He dialed Truck’s number first and got no answer.

Hanging up, he tried Charlie and didn’t get an answer.

Hemlock’s jaw tightened, and his eyes moved quickly to the screen, then to the door, thinking about leaving early as the frustration of Truck not answering his phone threatened to choke him.

Razor could tell Hemlock was on edge by the way his fingers tapped on the phone’s screen. “Told you, those two are getting hot and sweaty with each other.”

Razor’s words were right in his ear. He’d been so deep in thought, he hadn’t heard him approach. “Shut up, Razor.” Shoving his phone into his pocket, Hemlock walked away. He had patients to see. Plus, Charlie wasn’t due to go over to Truck’s until later that evening.

After an entire day of dealing with Razor giving him a hard time about Charlie and Truck, Hemlock left the clinic heading straight for Truck’s house.

By the time he threw his leg over his bike and revved the engine, the teasing and prodding from Razor had not only gotten under his skin—it was festering.

With the roar of the engine and concrete beneath him, he probably broke a few laws by the way he rode his bike through the city until he reached the outlying suburbs and opened the bike up. He rode as if on a mission. Then again, wasn’t he? Horns blared as he passed cars at high speeds.

When he pulled up to Truck’s, Hemlock saw Charlie was already there. In that moment, all the shit talking Razor had done at work came flooding in.

Shutting off his bike he climbed off, and tried shaking off the tension from Razor hounding him all day.

Still, it nagged at him seeing that Charlie was already there.

The knot in his stomach tightened. Quickening his pace, he made quick work of getting to the door.

Stepping inside, he took one look at Truck standing in the kitchen next to Charlie in nothing but a pair of jeans.

The brother was sweaty and seemed too at ease as he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest like he didn’t have a care in the world.

And Charlie.

Charlie was standing just a few feet away, smiling. She was leaning against the counter in a way that made Hemlock’s stomach twist. She wore nothing but a towel, her hair damp as if she’d just stepped out of the shower.

For a moment, Hemlock couldn’t breathe. His eyes darted between Charlie’s carefree smile and Truck’s oddly comfortable stance.

What the hell was going on? The sudden realization hit him like a punch to the gut: all the teasing from Razor about Charlie and Truck being alone.

Truck looked over when the door opened and smiled at Hemlock. “It’s about time you showed up.”

Hemlock knew when to walk away and this was one of those moments.

He couldn’t stop his mind from going straight to the worse case possible.

Shaking his head at Truck, and barely glancing at Charlie, disgusted with how he had let himself fall for the girl and for the trust he had always given his brother, he stepped back.

Truck stared at Hemlock, then at Charlie and back at the confused look Hemlock was giving them. “What’s that look for, son?”

“Fuck you.” Walking out, Hemlock slammed the kitchen door shut with such force the glass broke.

“Come back here you son of a bitch.” Hemlock heard Truck yell as the brother came barreling out of the house behind him.

Hemlock backtracked, turned on Truck, and for the first time in twelve years swung at the man. His fist connected with Truck’s chin, splitting it open. Blood dripped down onto his chest as Hemlock threw a second punch. Truck was ready for that one and managed to duck.

He didn’t get the chance to throw another one. Truck dove for him, catching him around the midsection and slammed him to the ground. Hemlock fought to get the brother off him. “What is your fucking problem?” Truck yelled while keeping Hemlock pinned down.

“You. You know how I feel about her.” The comment caught Truck off guard just enough for Hemlock to toss him off and roll away.

Scrambling to his feet, Truck tried to stop Hemlock from leaving but the kid refused to listen to him.

“Nothing’s going on here,” his words fell on def ears as Hemlock refused to look at him.

“You leave, don’t come back,” he yelled at Hemlock.

Regretting the words immediately, Truck tried to take them back, but the kid wasn’t having it. “Hemlock, don’t…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Hemlock fired up the bike and headed anywhere but there.

His hands tightened around the bike’s grips with such intensity, his knuckles were white.

As he shifted gears his thoughts spinning faster than the wheels beneath him.

He didn’t notice how hard his heart was pounding or how sharp his breathing was.

All he could think about was Charlie and the betrayal he felt by both her and Truck.

Truck… the one person he never thought would stab him in the back. Especially not over a woman.

The engine roared beneath him, but it did nothing to drown out the chaos in his head.

Hemlock shifted gears, accelerating hard as he shot down the street, heading nowhere in particular.

He didn’t care about the rules anymore, didn’t care about anything except the roar of the bike, the wind tearing at his face and ripping through his hair.

Truck looked over at Charlie who now stood in the doorway, shocked at how Hemlock had reacted at seeing them standing in the kitchen. “I need to go after him.”

“Let me change out of my bathing suit and I’ll go with you.”

“Yeah. Sure. I need to grab a shirt and shoes.”