19. Hawk
Hawk
When I roll into the compound, Phantom’s at the bar drinking coffee and talking to Stella and Shadow.
“I’ve got news. Good news.” Phantom’s thick brows are raised as he says those words to me. He almost looks like he wants to laugh—not an expression I’m used to from him. “You want the good news or the really good news?”
“Fucking glad that’s the choice. Surprise me.” I drop down onto a stool, and Shadow turns to face me.
“The guy wants to sell us the bar. It’s in a nice area near the college. Lots of foot traffic. Lots of dumbass kids with money. I’m going to see it with Stella tomorrow morning.”
“That was fast, man. Glad to hear it.”
Stella squeals. “I’m going to have a business.”
Shadow rolls his eyes and groans.
Stella spins behind the bar and waves her hands in the air, totally unbothered by Shadow’s attitude.
Phantom actually cracks a smile, and Shadow just shakes his head.
“So, we’re moving on that front,” I say, looking away from the spectacle that Stella’s making of herself. “Is that the good news or the really good news?”
“Also found a laundromat and a car wash joint in the same strip mall that are up for sale. We could expand quicker than any of us thought.” Phantom turns to me, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Now, the really good news is we got your guy. We found Wilson and know all about his past.”
A sudden thrill hits me like a fist to the chest. “And?”
“We’re going to pay him a visit.”
“Me and you?” I ask.
Phantom taking on a job personally means he’s got a serious stake in this. His daughters go to Palm High, so he must be incredibly fucking pissed if he’s planning to confront this asshole himself.
Phantom grunts in agreement. “Me and you. Roll in ten?”
I head back to my room and drop my shit on the couch. I grab my phone and text Veronica.
Me: Got info. We’ll handle it. You okay?
I change out of my dress clothes into something that can handle a few bloodstains. Long-sleeved black shirt so any identifying tatts are covered, a plain black ball cap over my hair, and dark sunglasses. I’m putting on shitty old jeans when she texts back.
Veronica: I’m good, thanks. Jada thinks you’re a Chris Hemsworth look-alike.
I laugh but don’t respond. She texts again.
Veronica: Hawk, be careful. Please.
I like her text, then head out to meet Phantom.
Time to go to work.
We roll up on our bikes to a store about six miles from the high school.
“You have got to be shitting me.” We’re stopped next to each other at the far end of the lot near the entrance, likely out of sight of any security cameras. Stella drives past us without making eye contact, heads toward an auto parts joint, and parks right in front.
Phantom chuckles. “It’s always the guys with the smallest dicks who have the biggest attitudes.”
What we know about this prick is that he has an arrest history more boring than the graffiti inside a gas station shitter.
Criminal trespass, assault, forgery. His record is long—he’s never been convicted of a felony serious enough to merit time away, but he’s clearly a loser who spends his free time harassing his ex-wife, pushing women around, and using their credit cards without their consent.
This fucking loser works at a discount auto parts store. I crack my knuckles and shake my head in disappointment. I’m happy for V’s sake that this will be easy work.
Stella sashays into the shop, having driven one of the club’s beat-up old sedans.
She bounces on her stacked flip-flops, wearing a very convincing dark brown wig to cover her natural hair.
We watch from a safe distance while she practically holds his hand and drags him out to look at her car.
He pops the hood and talks at her, the swagger in his body language pathetic and revolting all at the same time.
But Stella’s an excellent honeypot, and within minutes, she’s giving us the signal. We walk along the far perimeter of the parking lot, again avoiding any security that may be posted in the mall. We enter the store together, and Phantom heads for one of the aisles while I sidle up to Stella.
“He’s in the back,” she whispers, and I nod, positioning myself in the first aisle of the shop, perfectly in Stella’s line of sight.
When Wilson comes back, the sound of his voice makes the bile boil in my gut.
“So, sweetheart,” he says to Stella.
He deserves a punch for that. She listens patiently and then leans forward across the counter, making sure Wilson gets a nice view of her cleavage.
“Two guys came in while you were in the back, and they are kind of giving me the creeps. Do you have, like, cameras or anything?”
“No cameras but—” he puffs up his chest “—I got this. Nothing to worry about here. I can handle punks like this.”
She makes small talk then, thanking him and asking if he’ll be able to help install the new whatever the fuck he just brought out from the back. While they talk, Phantom picks up a tire iron off the shelf, giving it a practice swing.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Wilson shouts, clearly struggling to pull himself away from sweet, sweet Stella.
Phantom ignores him, swinging away like he’s about to step up to the plate.
“He’s alone,” Stella says, sauntering away from him and heading toward the door.
Wilson looks confused. “What? Why?”
Stella walks to the front door and turns the lock. “He’s alone,” she says.
We take all of about fifteen minutes to make it clear Wilson understands why we’re there.
I let him know that he threatened the wrong woman, and that any punishment his daughter deserves for putting shit down her throat is only a fraction of what he’s going to get if he doesn’t shut up and keep his nasty ass away from anyone and everyone involved with the school.
Stella watches the front door while Phantom uses tools from the shop to impress upon Wilson how interested we are in breaking every finger on the guy’s right hand.
I make sure none of my blows leave marks.
A couple of gut punches, a kick to the ribs.
We fill a bucket with antifreeze and together hold his face over it just to reiterate he knows that his life is quite literally in our hands.
We do the usual, having him repeat what we tell him and confirming he understands why we’re there. That he has the power to guarantee he never sees us again.
In a case like this, where we strike while he’s at work, we’re careful we don’t seriously injure him.
He’ll be uncomfortable, but since we didn’t steal anything or leave him bleeding, there won’t be a reason to call the paramedics.
No workers’ comp claim. If he reports anything to anyone, we’ll know.
We remind him that the only way we found him was through our friends who have access to information that only the cops should have.
“Do you understand what we’re saying to you, asshole?” Phantom seethes over the man’s ear, Wilson’s tears leaking into the bucket of antifreeze.
Spit flies from his lips as he blubbers. “If I bother her again, you’ll rip my dick off.” He grunts then and makes a sound like he wants to fight back.
I yank his neck so far back I hear his cry of pain. I lower my lips to his ear. “You got something to say, Wilson?”
“No, fuck. Let me go. I got it.”
“And what are you going to do when we leave here?” Phantom’s holding a wrench in his hands like a tiny baseball bat, and he’s got it aimed at Wilson’s crotch.
“I’m sorry. I won’t say a goddamn thing to anyone. I won’t do anything.”
“All right, then. I think our work here is done,” Phantom says, dropping the wrench on the floor.
Stella unlocks the front door but flips the sign to closed. She walks back to the counter, where Wilson is panting and trying to hide the piss that leaks down the leg of his khakis.
“You’re a weak and pathetic fucking loser,” she spits out.
“Now you know how it feels to be afraid of the scary man who shows up at your door. I hope every time that door opens, you feel the same kind of fear you tried to put on that woman. And if it were up to me…you deserve way worse than you got.” She shakes her head and storms out of the shop with Phantom and me on her heels.
He and I don’t say a word as we separate, cross the lot, and head back to our bikes. We trade looks, then Phantom waits for Stella to roll past. He follows her, but I wait a few minutes.
I pull out my phone and watch the door of the auto parts shop to make sure Wilson hasn’t forgotten how close we are to him. I see him at the door, peering past the closed sign, but he just turns out the store lights and slumps down to the floor, his back against the door.
Confident he’s going to be a lot less stupid in the future, I fire up my bike and head to the high school.
I can’t let myself into the school, but I don’t have my parking pass because I left it in the SUV, so I text Veronica and let her know I’m out front in the drive. She comes down a few minutes later. It’s nearly lunch and the campus is loaded with kids, so I keep the conversation quick.
“It’s done,” I tell her.
She’s squinting into the sun, the noises of the students echoing all around us. She looks so beautiful and so confident, in charge here. She glances behind her as if to check whether anyone is listening. “Is he dead?” she asks quietly, a stricken look on her face.
I bark out a laugh. “No. Far from it. But he won’t bother you again if he’s smart.”
“Okay,” she says. “Now what? What do I, do we—”
The words are out before I can even stop them. “Have dinner with me.”
She looks visibly relieved, and a big smile lights up her tired face. “Tonight?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Can you come to my place? I’ll cook, or we can order in.”
I want to cup the back of her neck and pull her face close to me. I want to kiss her, but the last thing she probably wants is an audience of thousands of teenagers watching her suck face over the lunch period. “Yeah,” I tell her. “I’ll be there.”
When I walk through the door of Veronica’s condo, she literally leaps into my arms. She wraps her legs around my waist and crashes her lips against mine. She kisses me hard, needy, her mouth open and her tongue sweeping inside.
“Hawk,” she groans, but I can’t hear what she says.
I fall back against the front door, my hands cupping her ass. I hold her against me, her soft, thick curves like silk in my hands. My dick springs to life, and I have to brace my feet or my knees are going to give out.
The power this woman has over me is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Nothing I even imagined could be true.
She hops down out of my arms, her lips swollen, her chest heaving with breathless anticipation. “Eat later?” she asks.
“Unless I’m eating you, in which case, I want to eat right fucking now.” I kick off my boots and drop my keys and phone, then follow her into her bedroom. We waste no time. I strip off every piece of clothing, trying to watch as she shimmies out of her sweats, her panties, and a soft tank top.
I pick her up fully naked and set her on the bed.
She lies back but stretches her hands out, touching any part of me she can reach as I straddle her.
I don’t want to wait, and I don’t think she needs me to.
I slide two fingers between her legs and find her so wet, a pained groan tumbles from my throat.
“Fuck, V…”
“Just fuck me,” she says. “Fuck me hard.”
I lower myself until I’m poised over her opening, and then I lean forward and lace my fingers through hers. I piston myself deep in one hard thrust, and she jerks her hips toward me, screaming a strangled cry that is a lot quieter than what I heard back at my cottage.
I fuck her hard, pounding every feeling, all the confusion, the longing, and the want into her body. She takes it, begs me for more, arching her back and lifting her hips, tears on her cheeks and my name in her cries.
When I am about to come, she is already shuddering, her walls tightening down on me so hard, I come undone.
It’s carnal and wild what we share. This desire, this animalistic need to consume each other. I want her deeper, want to be locked in a space where only she and I exist.
I collapse on top of her and plant kisses along her wet cheeks and closed eyes. I roll to my side, and she tucks herself behind me, pressing her ample breasts to my back. “Can we stay like this?” she whispers.
I look over my shoulder into her eyes, reaching back with one hand to cup her chin. “I wish we could, V.”
I roll back over and fall asleep, her body smashed against my back, our breathing perfectly in sync.