17. Hawk
Hawk
I can hardly keep my hands from shaking as I pull up in front of Veronica’s condo building. I scan the streets, wondering if that shithead is casing the place.
I look at every car like I did with that pizza delivery driver. I thought people like Veronica were safe from the kinds of dangers I see every day.
We don’t live in a county with a lot of crime. The shit we do—move drugs, guns, collect gambling debts—isn’t the kind of trouble that comes looking for you. Only people who willingly swim in our pools get a taste of how dark the deep end can be.
I pinch my brows together as I head up to the front entrance.
I examine the cameras, look around for hiding spots, generally assessing the security of the place like it’s my job.
And in some ways, I feel like it is. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t planning on calling Veronica.
Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. When she called me, no way was I not going to answer.
But now, being here, there’s no question she’s mine to protect. Her problems are my problems. I may not believe there’s any hope for us to have a repeat of our weekend, but when she called to say she was in some kind of trouble, you can damn well believe I hauled ass over here.
I text her that I’m downstairs, and she buzzes me in.
I take the stairs instead of the elevator, running up two at a time, like the faster I get there, the faster I can solve whatever’s wrong.
When I make it to her floor, she’s standing in the doorway looking toward the elevator.
She turns to me, and her composure crumbles.
She runs toward me and crashes against my chest. Her arms curl around my waist, and I just hold her under the harsh lights of the hallway.
“Come on. Let’s get inside. You can tell me everything.”
Once we’re in her place, I see signs of what she’s been going through.
Lettuce and carrots and a very brown avocado lay abandoned on the counter.
Her phone is on the couch, and she’s still wearing the pencil skirt and blouse I love so much.
Her eyes look troubled. She hasn’t been crying, but she looks like she needs to.
“Hey,” I say once we’re inside, trying to calm her down. “Did you eat?”
She shakes her head.
I yank out my phone. “What do you like on your pizza?” I ask.
“Anything,” she says. “I’m just…”
I shake my head. “Go change. Put on something comfortable. I’m going to order a pie. Then we’re going to talk.”
She nods at me and turns to walk toward what I assume is her bedroom. “I’m sorry I called you. I—”
I hold up a hand. “Nothing until you’re changed.”
She closes the bedroom door behind her, and I order a pizza, then head into the kitchen to look at the soggy veggies. I find the trash under the sink and toss the brown avocado out but put the lettuce and cut carrots back in the fridge in the bags they came from.
By the time I have the counter clear, she’s wandering back into the living room, barefoot, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. A large, loose T-shirt with a wide neck hangs over one shoulder, her black bra strap exposed.
I open the fridge and see a couple of beers and a pitcher of something that’s probably tea. “What are you drinking?” I ask her, making myself at home. After what we did to each other this weekend, I assume I can help myself to her drinks.
“Beer, please. The opener is in that drawer right beside the fridge.”
I open two beers and join her on the couch. “Pizza will be here in a half hour. Plenty of time for you to tell me everything.”
She takes a long sip of her beer and meets my eyes. Then she sighs. “It’s a long story. I—”
“I got time.”
She tucks her feet underneath her and meets my eyes. “I don’t know if you heard any of the local news today, but there was an incident involving drugs. Some students who attend my school overdosed.”
My heart seizes in my chest. Fuck me. How did I not put two and two together?
“No one was seriously hurt, thank goodness,” she continues, but her voice is troubled.
“The students involved are being treated and will be home recovering soon enough. But I can take disciplinary action against them for their behavior. We have a strict drug and alcohol policy, and this is within my authority to do. But of course, that always causes friction.”
I don’t know shit about this stuff. When I was in high school, I smoked a joint under the bleachers while the captain of the dance team sucked my dick. Nobody caught us. Nobody cared. Shit’s definitely changed since then.
Veronica’s voice is steady, but her eyes are filled with sadness. “The father of the girl who hosted the party came here tonight and threatened me.”
She goes into detail over the next half hour while we wait for the pizza about what he said. What he did. What he said he’d do.
When the pizza finally arrives, I grab her keys to let myself back in and go down to the street. I need a minute to think. There’s too much going on here.
I force down one slice of pizza and then excuse myself to talk to Phantom outside. I don’t want Veronica to hear anything I’m telling him.
After explaining the situation, we come up with a plan.
“Let me make some calls,” Phantom says. “We’ve got people for this.”
I assume by “people,” he means cops we’ve got on the take. I give him the man’s name. We’ll find out everything there is to know about him. And then I’ll know what I need to do to protect Veronica.
“And her pops,” Phantom asks, “what’s his address? You want me to send Tank there to do an overnight?”
I rub my face. “He lives up by you,” I tell him. “I don’t know the old man, but I’ll find out.”
“Secure channel,” he reminds me. “I’ll watch for a text.”
We hang up, and I let myself back into the building, the anger starting to rise in my belly.
Veronica is a goddamn saint. A woman who looks out for her pops, helps kids, and does her job to keep everyone safe.
Now some entitled asshat dad thinks he can show up at the woman’s front door and intimidate her? Immediate no.
My palms itch, and I get that restless, antsy feeling I get before I give somebody a beating they’ll never forget. I don’t love getting my hands bloody, but I will take a bat to the knees of anyone who threatens the people I care about.
As soon as I’m back inside, I lock the door behind me and notice she’s on her second beer and is putting away the pizza.
“Thanks for cleaning up my mess,” she says, looking at me with something I can’t read.
I wave off her thanks. “We’re looking into this guy,” I tell her. “Wilson. Once we know his deal, we’ll know how real the threats might be. In the meantime, we’ll take it seriously.”
Veronica pales and rubs a hand over the loose hairs that have fallen out of her bun. “What do you mean, looking into him?” she asks, leaning on the kitchen counter.
I shrug. “Do you want to know what we find?” I level her with a glare. “Or are you asking how we’ll get the information?”
She takes a long sip of her beer and closes her eyes. She knows what my question means. “I don’t know, Hawk. I truly don’t.”
“Then let me handle the details.” I open my phone. “What’s your father’s address and his name?”
Her tired hazel eyes go wide. “What do you need to know that for? I mean, I’ll tell you, but is my dad in trouble?”
I shake my head. “Danger, maybe. Not trouble. I don’t know. Better safe than sorry, babe.”
She comes around the counter and plops beside me on the couch. “Hawk, can we talk? I mean, really talk. I feel like my brain is running on two tracks—what I’m thinking and what I’m saying. And obviously, I’m not getting any of it right.”
I nod. “Yeah. All right. What do you want to talk about?”
Something deep inside me freezes. It’s a slow spreading cold that starts in my heart and seeps outward.
This is where hope goes to die. This conversation.
This truth. She wants to know things, ask things.
And I already know she’s not going to like the answers.
But it’s better to get this out of the way.
I lift a brow at her, and she swallows. “I’d like to know how you’re going to look into Marina Wilson’s father. What you’ll be looking for.”
I give it to her straight. “The Heat have cops who are friends. We give them money and sometimes other shit, and they give us information. Phantom put in a call to one of our guys. Asked about any criminal history. Any job or other information we need to know to assess how much of a threat this asshole really is.”
She watches my face as I talk, and that creeping cold lodges itself in my throat. I grab her beer, take a sip, and try to pretend I don’t feel the weight of her questions.
“All right,” she says. “And what will you do with the information when you get it?”
I cock my head to the side. “You sure you want to know?”
She licks her lips, and the loose neck of her top falls lower on her shoulder. She’s beautiful even now, looking scared, sad, and somehow even resigned to what’s coming. “Yeah,” she says softly. “The truth.”
I’m all business now. “My brothers protect what’s ours.
We protect one another, and sometimes we step in where we’re needed, even if it doesn’t always make sense.
If this asshole is a real threat to you, we’ll make sure he can’t hurt you.
If he’s not, we’ll put the fucking fear of God into him, so he never, ever thinks about bullying another woman.
And certainly not you. That protection extends to your father too. ”
Her lashes flutter as she blinks rapidly, following my words. “What would you do to him, Hawk?”
I shrug. “Depends on how resistant he is to listening.” I lace my fingers together and crack my knuckles. “Some people need more convincing than others. Let’s just hope he’s open to a new way of thinking and behaving.”
She covers her face with her hands. “I don’t know what that means. Are we talking about murder?”
I bark out a laugh and reach for her hand. It feels too intimate, too real, to have her soft, long fingers in mine. Once I pull them away from her face, I release her. “V, we don’t kill people,” I lie, but damn, I make those words sound so convincing.
“Never?” she asks, her eyes wide.
I shake my head. “I haven’t. But I can’t say I wouldn’t. Not if it meant protecting someone who matters to me. I’d kill anyone who tried to lay a hand on Daisy or Holly. I’d fucking obliterate anyone who crossed any of my brothers’ old ladies.”
“Old ladies?” she asks, confused. “Their mothers?”
My smile is small but sincere. “Their wives, girlfriends. If someone comes after Poppy, they’ll think the devil himself is on their tail. And not just Phantom. All of us. We’re a brotherhood. I wouldn’t hesitate, babe.”
She nods at this. “Do you think you can keep me safe?”
I swallow hard and resist the impulse to hold her.
To pull her close and promise her there is nothing, absolutely nothing, I would not do to keep her safe.
“I’ll break his fingers and both his legs if I have to.
” I say it simply so she understands. “Do you think that would be enough to keep you safe?”
“Maybe I should call the police,” she whispers.
“They’ll file a report and maybe give you a restraining order.
But we know those are shit. They never stop someone who really wants to do something bad.
And I’d put money on the fact that it wouldn’t stop Wilson either.
I’ll keep you safe, Veronica. Let me do this for you.
I promise he won’t hurt you or your father.
” I can’t help myself. I reach for her hand and hold it.
“Thank you,” she says, looking down at our hands. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Hawk. Should I pay you? Is that—”
I hold up a hand. “Stop. Just stop.”
She nods and falls silent.
I stand up and take my beer into the kitchen, and then I walk over to the front door.
“Lock this behind me,” I tell her. “I’ll text you as soon as I know anything.
And send me your dad’s name and street address.
I’ll have guys outside his place and yours.
Discreetly, of course. Don’t worry your father until we know if he needs to be worried. ”
She follows me to the front door. “Hawk, I—”
But she closes her lips like she’s decided against saying whatever it is she was planning to say. I get it. There’s nothing else to say. I’ve got work to do.
“Good night, Veronica.” I don’t look back at her.
I don’t want to see her bare shoulder and the soft skin that just yesterday I couldn’t keep my hands off.
The loose tendrils of hair that fall around her face.
I don’t want to see those lips and the strong, silent determination in her eyes.
I need to leave before I shove her against a wall and kiss away the fear and the uncertainty about this, about me, until it’s the last thing she feels.
I head to the stairwell, but she hasn’t locked the door, so I have to look back. She’s standing against the doorframe, just watching me. And the look in her eyes almost undoes my will to resist everything I’m feeling. I point a finger at her and nod. “Lock it up,” I remind her.
She looks down at her bare toes, slowly closes the door, and disappears behind the flip of the dead bolt.