Chapter 16
Hawk
I needed answers, not a bunch of nosy questions. Walking down the hall, I knocked as I opened the door to the Keys’ computer lab.
He hadn’t always been as reclusive. It sort of happened slowly over time.
He used to go on runs with us, but not as many.
Then he was needed more behind the screen.
He still partied with us for a while, but then even that started to decline.
One day, it occurred to me he never came out anymore.
I didn’t want to press him and he was fine just working behind the scenes. Though I wondered if he was okay.
“Morning, Prez,” he said as he leaned to grab a ream of paper from the printer. “I’ve been reading for a while this morning, but so far, there’s nothing to help us. There was an interesting chat on her new phone last night, though.”
“Her new one? Already? Where’s that?” I asked, sorting through the stack of papers as I took a seat.
“Toward the back,” he said, clearing his throat before he turned back to the screen.
It took me a few lines to realize who was talking. “This was last night?”
“Mmhmm,” he said before leaning closer to his screens. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” I asked, looking over.
“New text.”
My eyes scanned it and my chest rose and fell with deep breaths. I wanted to gouge his eyes out, but reminded myself he was doing what I asked. “Turn that off.”
He nodded, tapped a few keys, and the texts were gone. “Want me to keep the line open for you?”
“Yes, but don’t fucking read them. Not for now. I want a print out daily.”
Pulling another page from the back, I looked at the date and time stamp. It was yesterday from the old phone. She and Klara texted a lot… about me.
But nothing suspicious. It was just two women gabbing about a guy. A guy that she thought didn’t want to touch her.
Those texts were almost comical, cute even. Though I wish she didn’t think that. She was too pretty and too powerful to be second-guessing herself over me.
But the ones that just came over on the screen, the ones she was actively sending while I sat there and Keys fucking read alongside me, were depressing and a little insulting.
She wasn’t crying because she was homesick.
Well, maybe that, too. But she was crying because she thought I was fucking a bunny in the basement while she was upstairs.
She thought I didn’t want her, and now she was asking for advice on how to broach the subject of some rules for us to coexist.
Was that the type of man she thought I was? And why did I care so much what she thought? I shouldn’t give a fuck, and I didn’t want to, but she had to know I wouldn’t break my word. Hell, the only reason we were married was because even the word of my father was too important to break.
“You didn’t see anything suspicious? No coded conversations?” I asked.
“Mostly girly shit with this Klara person, a few texts about work and shifts, an occasional hello from her brother. That’s it.”
“Nothing with her father? And what did the texts with Niko say?” I asked, shuffling through the papers.
“Like, hello, back in town. See you at the restaurant. Or hello, where are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago. That was the day you went up.”
“That’s it?”
Keys nodded.
“Maybe she has another phone. Or maybe they only talk in person,” I said, pondering aloud.
“Well, tracking her movements with this, too, she mostly was at the restaurant. She worked long hours. And she spent a lot of time in this one area of their house either late at night or super early,” he said, clicking a few times then pointing to the screen.
“And I cross-referenced the numbers we have on file for the Petrov’s and they mostly are all ships passing in the night besides the occasional meal together and a party. ”
“What party?” I asked.
“Some big time investor in New York. Looked him up, not sure he’s in with them, maybe a close personal friend. But a few other families seemed to be there. Including–”
“The Martinellis,” I interrupted. I’d done a basic search while I waited on Keys so I knew what the head of the family looked like. Leaning in closer, I said, “That’s not his wife.”
Keys shook his head. “Nope.”
No wonder she was so worried. I guess I knew how things worked for them, but I never gave a fuck because we weren’t part of that, we just did business with them.
And by the time I officially met Petrov, Sr., his wife had passed.
Having different women wasn’t a crime. If they were married and had an understanding, who was I to judge?
I had no clue how he had been when his wife was alive.
And I’d never seen Petrov, Jr. with a woman, but knew he had bunnies a few times when he visited us.
He was much like me in that manner– private.
Either way, none of that was any of our business.
“When was this?” I asked.
“About three, almost four weeks ago.”
That would make Petrov’s story for why he chose to move now and move fast with this arrangement plausible. “Something must have happened there. Was his son there?”
Keys clicked a few things and a new pic appeared. “Yep.”
There she was. They were in the frame together, but she was tense and that was the same forced smile she gave the day we met.
Except with me at least, her body language hadn’t been so rigid.
She carried herself well, but this picture didn’t show that.
She was leaning away from him, her eyes not making contact with his, and her shoulders were an inch higher than normal.
Knowing it could have just been the frame they decided to use, I asked if there were others. A slew of photos from the event filled several of the screens. Each one was similar. All until she was leaving.
“Did you find anything at all?” I asked.
“Rude,” he said. “I haven’t found anything implicating your wife. But those guys,” Keys said pointing at the screens, “definitely bad news. I don’t know how they were tied to Romero yet, but I’ll keep searching.”
Leaning back in the chair and staring up at the stills of my wife, I asked, “What do you think, Keys? Do you believe she’s clean?”
He was hands down the smartest person I knew. Even if he didn’t unravel it all, I trusted that he’d have found at least a morsel to go on if she was up to something.
“I think she’s just a normal mafia princess with a cool hobby, Prez. Plus, being in a family like that, kinda makes sense that she can defend herself.”
Ma was an excellent marksman and she’d whoop some ass if needed.
She’d never trained to fight, but she’d been around enough bikers and bars in her life she could hold her own.
She did practice shooting, though, and had her own guns.
We tried to encourage Penny to do the same, but she wasn’t interested.
It wasn’t safe to force someone to handle a gun if they didn’t want to.
Instead, she just had a lot of protection details.
Even though I didn’t intend to put her in harm’s way, it did give me some comfort to know that Katarina could at least handle one man if needed. She had claws. Like a cat. But not a house cat, more like a wild panther.
Grabbing his shoulder, I said, “Thanks, brother. Keep searching on them and keep an eye on the old phone just in case. And print outs daily on the new one.” I stood up. “But don’t fucking read them if they’re between her and Klara.”
“Got it, Prez.”
Going to the door, I stopped. “You good, man?”
“Yeah, Prez. Having Coop help out some has been nice.”
My brows pinched. “Don’t let him see any of these,” I said, tapping the papers.
“None. I got you, Prez.”
Heading out of the computer lab, I hustled down the hall to my office and rushed inside.
There was one large screen mounted on the wall that was split into six boxes.
One was aimed to see the back of both my house and Ma’s from the trees, one at the street entrance to the clubhouse, one by the shed, one on the back door to the clubhouse, the front door, and inside the bar that gave a broad view.
We had cameras everywhere, but these were the ones I liked to keep an eye on regularly.
Keys and Coop watched for anything out of the ordinary on all the cameras.
We even had them throughout the woods on the land surrounding the clubhouse.
Extra cameras had been added after Butch had fled because we knew he’d be a problem eventually.
Flipping through the pages, there was nothing of interest at first. There was a text that she met Leo Martinelli with a series of eye roll emojis and vomit emojis to Klara.
A lot of work stuff, very short texts with Niko but more than Penny and I messaged, and a few to what appeared to be her driver.
Around the time I found out about the arrangement, she shot off several short texts of desperation to Klara, one after another. Then they had a call.
A dirty biker. Motorcycle gang. She certainly had big thoughts about us. But she was also scared. She freaked out about moving to Georgia. She was sad to leave her mother’s restaurant.
I never realized it was her mom’s. I just assumed it was like our businesses.
Ma ran Destiny’s Desires until recently but the club owned it.
I’d have to check that out. But it didn’t matter what I found.
She loved that place, it was her mom’s, and she had Klara there.
Here was all new, far from everything familiar, and she knew none of us. Least of all me, and I was her husband.
Even though I was moderately annoyed at her initial reaction, that softened once I read texts from when we met.
She told Klara I defended her honor to her father.
I didn’t know if he was going to hit her.
He raised his arm, he seemed mad, she’d slammed a glass down, it all pointed to him hitting her and we didn’t do that here.
She also mentioned my looks and my chest puffed out.
I knew I was good looking. I took care of myself, I worked out, I had a whole style. But knowing she liked it felt good.
She also begged Klara to show up for the wedding shit and told her she had to be her maid of honor. A lot of talk about that, then the next bit wasn’t until yesterday morning. Then a lot through the day.
She detailed the wedding night and asked Klara a bunch of questions about why I wouldn’t have slept with her. Klara thought it was “toxically hot” that I cut my hand open so her father believed we’d had sex.
She spoke to her last night on her new phone, again questioning what was wrong with her. Why wouldn’t I touch her? Then Klara asked if I had a lover. A lover? This wasn’t a fucking French film. A lover?
Pushing past the ridiculousness of that term and needing a fucking shower for that being thrown in my direction, I looked up at the camera when movement caught my eye.
She was in the bar. True to her word, Lacy greeted her and took her to their table then went to the kitchen.
Even on the grainy black and white monitor, she was gorgeous.
Her hair was down, straight and silky down her back.
She fit in nicely with jeans and a t-shirt.
We’d have to do something about her shoes.
Even walking around the grounds wasn’t a good idea with those little ballet slippers she had on.
There was dirt, gravel, and glass all over.
The grounds were cleaned up after parties, but even the best of eyes missed glass in the red Georgia clay.
Staring up like I was watching television, I watched as Lacy brought out a plate and some coffee.
She took a seat with her and Katarina drank her coffee and grabbed her fork, but didn’t really eat.
She occasionally put the fork into it like she was going to, but instead just kept talking and drinking coffee.
After their chat seemed to die down, Ma poked her head out of the kitchen and Lacy jumped up, giving her the universal hand signal to wait one second.
Watching her a few more moments, sitting there alone and unsure, I stood up and headed that way.
As I hustled down the hallway, a pang of guilt hit me.
I wanted her messages checked to ensure the safety of the club, and maybe even her.
I hadn’t considered I’d see those sentiments.
All of our phones were tracked and could be checked.
But seeing the exchanges about us–about me–to her friend felt invasive.
I had to keep an eye on things, though, so it wouldn’t be the last I’d see probably.
By the time I got there, Lacy was back.
“Ladies,” I said.
Lacy smiled and Katarina tried to plaster one on.
Holding my hand out, I asked, “Can you come with me?”
Lacy gave her a nod and she stood, moving to grab her plate. But Lacy said, “Leave that. I got it.”
Katarina thanked her, then put her hand into mine. It fit perfectly. Small, soft, and warm.
Leading her to the kitchen, I pushed the swinging door. “Ma, I want to show her the kitchen.”
“Well come on in, hon. We got a pretty sweet setup,” Ma said as she opened her arms.
Katarina’s eyes went wide as she looked around. “It’s like the restaurant.”
Ma nodded. “We got a lot of mouths to feed around here. You like to cook?”
“Baking is my first love, but I enjoy cooking, too.”
Pointing to the wall, I said, “Mixer.”
Ma jumped in. “We got a smaller one over here, too. That one there is for big batches of breads and cakes.”
“I used to bake for the restaurant,” Katarina said with a sparkle in her eye but a touch of sadness in her voice.
“Well, we love baked goods here, hon,” Ma said. “Especially Falcon and this one.” She pointed to me.
“I don’t like them as much as Falcon,” I grumbled.
“Ha. You can fool all them boys, but you ain’t foolin’ me, son. Katya, you just come on and bake anytime you like. If you get me a list of ingredients, I’ll get them with the next grocery run.”
“That would be wonderful,” Katarina said.
“I’ll get her some paper. Ma, I need to steal her away. Just wanted to show her the kitchen.”
Ma walked over and grabbed her shoulders, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I’m excited to have another woman in here with us. Lacy likes to help cook, too. If you need anything at all, you just holler. I best get back to this.”
Ma went back to what she was doing so I walked Katarina out the back and took her hand, leading her back to the house. Our house.