21. Hawke
Hawke
“ I ’m not fucking you,” Ivy states as I pull up to the curb in front of her apartment.
“No, you did me one better. You fed me,” I say, patting my stomach. Dinner with her father was the hardest I’ve ever had to work for a meal. The asshole was killing me with questions and snide remarks.
“I know what it is you really want to eat,” she says matter-of-factly, and I lean over to grab a lock of her hair. Oh, all the ways I wish I could have this woman.
“Is it so bad to want you?” I ask honestly. I’m hopeful she at least invites me in. If I can get another few hours of peaceful sleep, that’d be ideal, but I don’t know if it was just a fluke.
“No, you’re only human. And I’m hot.”
“I’m hot too,” I fire back. It’s why we’re such a perfect fucking match.
She’s opening the door as she looks over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Hawke.” But she pauses before she gets out of the car. “And thank you for this weekend. I’m okay. I promise.”
I don’t entirely believe her. Or maybe that’s what I’m telling myself because I don’t want to leave her side.
“You know, you and I could hang more like this,” I suggest. “Everyone else in our group is coupled up, and as you’ve recently discovered, you have pretty shitty friends. I could be a good friend.”
She smiles as she jumps out of the car, then leans down to say, “Hawke, you and I can’t just be friends.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been tempted by the perks, lover,” I say arrogantly.
“Goodnight, Hawke. I hope whoever you’re fucking tonight gets more than two minutes of your below-average hip thrusting.”
“Below aver?—”
She slams the door, cutting me off. I open my door and stand, declaring, “I know I have the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. Women love my hip thrusting. And it definitely lasts more than two minutes. You’ve experienced it!”
Everyone within hearing distance stops and stares at me. Well, it’s better for the word to get around if she keeps saying shit like that. I have a reputation to uphold.
She looks over her shoulder, that mischievous smirk wreaking havoc on me as she waves goodbye.
That woman knows how to chew a man’s ego within seconds. Lucky for me, I have plenty of it.
I shrug and get back into the car.
I’m singing to the music blasting through the speakers when it cuts out and is replaced by the ringing of my phone. Dutton’s name appears on the screen. I answer, “Yo! Need advice on spicing up your marriage so soon after the honeymoon?”
“You’re such a dick,” Dutton replies. “I need you to come to Pearl. I’ve already called Eli and Ford. I’ve got a problem.”
Dutton doesn’t give us orders because we don’t work for him, but the four of us are close, and we always look out for one another. “How come Eli isn’t the one calling me?”
“Let’s just say he was in a compromising position when I called.”
I chuckle and hang up on him, taking the next exit.
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music, a sense of anticipation filling me at the hope I might be able to finish the night with some killing.
Some might say killing people is a job for the already depressed.
I would like to argue that. I’m a very happy person.
Well, I was up until my brother was poisoned.
Now, there are ghosts that drag me down, but even then, I try my hardest to run away from them.
I don’t see the point in getting depressed about things for the simple reason that I grew up not knowing if Ford and I would make it to the next day. It all changed when we met Anya and River. We were given a second chance. And I don’t take things personally unless they are.
Out of the two of us, Ford is the one who looks like he could be depressed, even though he lives with the same reverence for the life we’ve built that I do.
The only time I ever really see him happy, though, is when he’s with Billie or tattooing.
And it hurts a bit to know I can’t give him that same feeling.
I enjoy my adoptive parents’ company, too, but it’s different.
My mother would judge half the shit I get up to, which is exactly why she’s worried I’ll be the one bringing grandbabies to her doorstep.
Their relationship is dysfunctional at best, mostly because Anya is outright crazy.
River is the only positive male role model we’ve had, and he’s the one who taught us that women are to be worshipped.
Before they welcomed us into their home, no one ever really loved us. And while I can say Ford and I loved each other, it’s not quite the same as being loved by parents.
My mother has unorthodox ways of expressing love, like teaching us how to micro dose on poison.
Some would call it child abuse, but in the world we live in, it’s a matter of survival.
And she was right. She was the first to teach me what a powerful woman is, and in my line of work, I’ve realized how women can be just as deadly, if not more so, than men.
Eli’s wife is the best sharpshooter I’ve ever seen.
And Hope loves to kill people for her art, which is a little morbid, but whatever.
And then there’s Ivy. I haven’t completely figured her out yet, but I’m becoming more curious by the day.
My beautiful little hacker who likes to keep what she does hidden.
I don’t understand why she wants to keep it a secret.
She’s good and, in my opinion, probably better than her father. But I might be biased.
Everything is changing around us, and I can’t help but feel like I’m being left behind.
So when Dutton calls me to Pearl, I jump on the opportunity because right now, I feel like my work is all I have to give me purpose.
I don’t think I’m depressed, but I’m certainly not having as much fun lately.
And I don’t know if it’s a dangerous thing to expect Ivy to help with that.
Ford’s car is already parked outside. When I walk through the back door of Pearl, I see the action is in full swing. I peek past the curtains to see one of the dancers beautifully angling herself on the pole. I fucking love women; they’re the best. They have a grace that men just don’t have.
“Hey, big boy,” Mike, one of the bartenders, says as he steps up behind me. “I hope you plan on paying.” His tone is flirty as I turn to face him.
“Here on business tonight, unfortunately,” I reply.
“Pity,” he says, looking me up and down before hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “They’re in the office. Still sure you’re straight?”
I shrug as I walk past him with a smile. “I’m not sure on much, but that I’m sure about. I’ll let you know if it changes.”
“Flattering,” he coos as he continues on his way to the bar.
Eli, Dutton, and Ford are already in the office. I close the door behind me. Dutton is sitting behind his desk, sipping a glass of whiskey. Eli is standing beside him, doing the same, and Ford leans against the bookshelf, scrolling through his phone.
“We have a problem,” Dutton says, not even greeting me first. He tosses some photos onto the desk.
I walk over and frown at the images. Anger immediately pumps through my bloodstream.
“Who did this to her?” I ask, looking Dutton dead in the eyes.
No one gets past Dutton’s security, especially here at Pearl or any of his other clubs.
They focus solely on their women’s safety, so how the fuck did one of his dancers wind up dead?
I know her. I’ve partied with her. And although I can’t remember her name, no one deserves this.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. We have a few men who have been rounded up who weren’t regulars with whom she danced with that night.
This happened last night after her shift.
Her boyfriend called me this morning saying she hadn’t come home.
She was drugged. Obvious struggle. Abused. Killed,” he tells me.
My jaw tics. All I can see is Ivy’s smiling face. This could’ve been her.
What if I hadn’t been lucky enough to intervene in time?
“I’ve had a few reports that drugs are circulating that aren’t our product,” Eli says. “This is the first woman who has been drugged and attacked. It hits too close to home.” He lights a cigar and takes a deep inhale. “Another woman went missing.”
“It’s not just the drugs or attacks. We might be looking at a sex ring coming into town,” Dutton growls.
My hands curl into fists, and the tension in the room shifts. We might not be good men—we profit from power and making men bleed—but we don’t stand for women being hurt.
That stir of guilt rolls in my stomach as a set of wide, shocked eyes flash in my mind. A woman, dead because of me. I try to push it away.
Is this related to Ivy or just a coincidence? I open my mouth and then close it. I can’t tell them about Ivy when she asked me not to say anything.
“We need to deal with this before it becomes a problem,” Eli says, stating the obvious.
“So now we hunt. I want us to track back to whoever the fuck thought it was a smart idea to put this shit out on my streets. We’ll make an example of them so everyone knows the consequences of angering the Monti’s. ”