Chapter 6
HAWK
T he moment I pulled my truck into her driveway the following morning, I knew I was walking into enemy territory—because nothing about this place belonged to me yet.
She wasn’t even mine yet—as far as she knew—but I already felt more for Gemma than I ever had with any other woman.
She was already in my blood, and I was determined to own a piece of every part of her life.
The house wasn’t flashy, just a small cottage, but it fit her perfectly.
Pale blue siding, white trim, and big front windows with gauzy curtains that fluttered behind the glass.
Tucked behind it was a converted garage that looked like it had been rebuilt practically from the studs up when she converted it into a studio.
From the outside, the place projected a sweet, quiet life, and my need to protect Gemma strengthened.
I texted her when I parked, and as I approached the front door, she cracked it open just wide enough to let me in. Then she aimed a soft smile at me, causing an unfamiliar warmth to spread in my chest.
“Morning,” I said gruffly, my eyes devouring her and reminding me how fucked I was. Tight jeans hugged those incredible curves, a soft purple T-shirt stretched across her tits, and that long toffee hair was in a ponytail hanging down her back.
Damn.
She wasn’t just sexy as fuck. She was beautiful. Real. And already under my skin.
“Good morning. Come in.” She swept her hand out toward the cozy living room. “Do whatever you need. I’ll be out in my studio so I’m not in your way.”
“Could never be in my way, baby,” I replied as I stepped inside.
She blushed hard, and I was tempted to slide a finger over the soft skin of her cheek, but I shoved my hands into my pockets instead.
“Um. Well. I have work to do anyway. Just, um, come out to the studio when you’ve finished with the house.”
I nodded and curved my lips into a half smile. Her eyes dropped to my mouth for a moment, and her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. It was fucking adorable, which wasn’t a word I ever expected to use.
She spun around and swiftly walked across the room toward the kitchen that was part of the open concept design. After grabbing a stack of papers off the counter, she tossed one last look at me before slipping out of the back door.
Once she was gone, I stepped farther inside, and my senses were overwhelmed.
Gemma was everywhere.
The air smelled soft and clean, but with that same trace of something floral clinging to the edges. Sweet, warm, and feminine.
Her throw blanket was crumpled on the couch like she’d just gotten up, and a half-read book lay on the cushion beside it with a pencil stuck between the pages. On the end table was an empty glass with a wooden coaster beneath it. And a pair of slippers were kicked halfway beneath the coffee table.
It wasn’t messy. Just lived-in.
I could easily picture my things mixed with hers, and my chest tightened. This didn’t feel like just her home.
It was hers.
But now I wanted it to be mine.
Correction… ours .
Until I was here to protect her, I would make sure she was as safe as possible.
I’d mapped out the entire security overhaul before I even got here.
Spent half the night going over specs and redundancies.
Silent alarms and glass break detectors on the doors and windows.
Motion sensors in the front and backyard, especially around the studio.
Wireless cameras with full-circle coverage, infrared, and cloud uploads. It was a fortress in progress.
I started with the perimeter, working fast and quiet. Installing the outdoor sensors, testing signal strength, and camouflaging the devices so no one would spot them unless they knew exactly what to look for. Then I headed back inside to set up the base system.
That was when the all-business wall I’d built around me cracked.
Her bedroom door was half open, and I tried to ignore it. Tried like hell. But it didn’t fucking work.
I stepped into the room, quiet as a ghost, and paused just inside the threshold. Her bed was made with an embroidered white quilt and decorative pillows. They had frilly edges, and I cringed imagining what my brothers would say if they saw how girly it was and knew it was where I slept.
Well, the single ones anyway. Since I knew I’d be willing to deal with all that feminine shit if it meant being with my woman, I assumed the guys with old ladies felt the same.
Something on the shiny, hardwood floor caught my eye. It was halfway under the bed skirt, like it had been accidentally kicked there and gone unnoticed.
My breath got stuck in my chest when I realized what it was.
A pair of panties.
I swallowed hard.
They were light blue and made of lace.
All the blood in my body flowed straight to my groin.
The strings at the side would easily give way with one sharp tug.
Fuck!
I bent down slowly and picked them up, running the delicate fabric between my fingers before bringing them to my face. Burying my nose in the spot that covered her pussy, I inhaled deeply. My cock turned rock hard, pressing against my zipper like it wanted to rip free.
The lingerie carried the scent of her skin, and my tongue tingled in anticipation of tasting her. I wanted to know if her flavor matched her natural fragrance.
Growling low under my breath, I stuffed the panties in my back pocket and headed for the bathroom to get my head on straight.
Only that didn’t help because one of those circular birth control packs sat on the counter. It hadn’t been there yesterday when she showed me around.
Oh, hell to the fucking no. My face twisted into a scowl as I snatched the container and popped the lid open with my thumb. All twenty-eight pills were still there. Not a single fucking one missing.
The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding whooshed out. Good.
Because if I had it my way, she’d never take another one.
I took the whole damn thing and shoved it into my pocket with the panties.
Then I slid a couple of her bottles of girly shit to the edge of the counter so it looked like some of it had been knocked over.
A small trash can sat just beside the cabinet, so hopefully, she’d assume the pills had fallen into it.
I probably should have felt a little guilty at the deception, but I had no regrets. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to get what I wanted.
My cut on her back. My ring on her finger. My baby in her belly.
It wasn’t a question of if . Only when .
I was finishing up the last of the interior cameras—one above the front door and another angled across the kitchen—when my phone vibrated.
It was Deviant, so I answered on the second ring, keeping my voice low. “Find anything?”
There was a pause before he spoke, which never meant anything good.
“Ellen’s missing. Reported by her sister late last night. No signs of struggle. Phone’s off. No activity on her accounts in the past forty-eight hours.”
My chest went ice cold.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “I have to tell Gemma.”
“Yeah. And I need to talk to her. Everything she remembers about Ellen. Stuff they talked about, routines, whatever. Hopefully, she’ll have information that’ll help me piece together a timeline while you handle ground security.
In the meantime, I’m digging into her life over the past week to see if I can find a digital trail to follow. ”
“Thanks,” I grunted. Then I ended the call and shoved the phone back into my pocket. After gathering up everything I needed for the studio’s security, I left the house through the back door and followed the path to Gemma.
When I walked inside, her back was turned to me as she adjusted the lighting. The place looked like something out of a dream. A classy but very dirty dream.
A plush chaise, strategically placed mirrors, a table covered with props, and… shit .
My eyes landed on the fancy bed on the far wall that I’d avoided thinking about when I noticed it yesterday.
I couldn’t peel my gaze away from it today. Soft sheets were tangled up on the mattress, perfectly messy in a way that suggested they had been staged. Soft lighting bathed the bed in a hazy warmth that heated my blood.
And there she was, barefoot, her hair piled on top of her head and her clothes hugging every delicious curve. She was reaching up to fix a bulb, and her shirt lifted, exposing a smooth strip of skin above the waistband of her jeans.
My cock was instantly hard again, although it had never fully deflated, knowing her panties were in my pocket. The earlier temptations came roaring back with a vengeance, and I lowered the box in my arms to cover the enormous bulge in my leather pants.
“Fucking hell,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
Gemma turned when she heard me, a question in her eyes.
But I couldn't speak. My gaze was drawn to the bed again, as if it had a magnetic pull and my jaw clenched.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
My eyes flicked to hers. She was watching me carefully, cheeks pink and her lips slightly parted.
All I could do was nod, my mouth too dry to speak.
“It’s a prop,” she said, brushing her ponytail over her shoulder. “The bed, I mean. For shoots.”
I still didn’t answer. Just nodded again. Because I couldn’t trust myself to speak. Not without sounding like a fucking animal.
Then my phone buzzed again, breaking the spell so I didn’t do anything stupid like rip her clothes off and shove my face between her legs.
I glanced at the screen.
Deviant
Need to talk to her. Today.
I was frustrated at the reminder of the news I had to break to Gemma, but I still replied.
Me
Okay.
Then I slid my phone back into place. Wishing like hell that I didn’t have to wipe away her smile, I scrubbed my hands over my face. Then I dropped them to my sides and got it over with. “Ellen’s missing,” I said quietly.
Gemma’s entire body stilled. “What?”