Chapter 12
Hawk
“The last item on the agenda is reminding everyone that your attendance is expected at the party this afternoon,” Bev announces cheerfully.
Red squeals, which earns her one of my cop glares.
“You guys better cool it today. I don’t want Marissa to be overwhelmed.”
What worries me more is that there’s a chance that she might bail on her plans to move at the last minute.
Red’s bracelets jingle as she waves me off rather impatiently. “You mean you don’t want her to know how obsessed you are?”
There’s no point in lying to the people in this room. “Exactly. Would that be doable?”
Bev presses her palm onto her chest, like the mothers in movies when their prom-going son walks down the stairs, but Cash only rolls his eyes and asks, “Is that all? Some of us have work to do.”
Everyone gathers their stuff, and Squid comes up to me. “Walk you out?”
“Sure.”
“How are you coping?” He asks in his sponsor tone once we’re alone.
I rub my palms on my thighs and focus on how the fabric feels. “Better, now that Marissa’s coming here.”
Squid’s eyebrows knit, and he rolls his lips before responding. We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when he’s about to hit me with something I’m not gonna like.
“I worry that perhaps after everything that’s happened with the kidnapping, you’ve latched onto this idea of helping Marissa to overcompensate. With your tendencies, I… Don’t take this the wrong way. I don’t want to see you suffer or relapse.”
There it is. My biggest fear, plucked straight from my head. I rub my palms against my jeans even harder.
“Don’t you think I’ve considered that?” I ask him calmly.
“I had all the time in the world these past two months, and I’ve looked at this every which way.
Yes, initially, there were some of my personal issues at play there, and I actually have to thank you all for stopping me from swooping in and playing hero immediately. ”
I focus my gaze on my steps, feeling, not for the first time, like I’m confessing to a priest. “It would have been a temporary band-aid, like drinking was. It's different now. We started emailing, then talking on the phone, and texting nonstop every day… I’ve never felt a bond this deep with another person, man or woman. There’s something about her, Prez. She’s as good as they come.”
I look at Squid, and his eyes are knowing and smiling.
“When you know, you know,” he tells me, and I chuckle.
“I always thought people were lying when they said shit like that.”
“Some are,” he confirms. “What about her ex? Is he gonna make trouble?”
“Don’t even get me started on that piece of shit,” I retort through clenched teeth. “Silver lining is, he showed so little regard for her that I’d be surprised if he starts caring now.”
Squid watches me carefully put my cut on the passenger seat of my Ram before driving off.
An hour and forty minutes. That’s how long I spend obsessing over everything that could go wrong today.
Marissa could change her mind about uprooting her life and moving.
She could decide it would be best for her son to stay close to his dad.
I could get into an accident on the way there and never see her again.
The overthinking gives me a heartburn-like feeling.
“God, please, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,” I murmur over and over again until I feel my breathing slow down.
When I arrive at my destination, I’m overcome by a different kind of nerves, one that I vaguely remember from the day when I first wore my police uniform, or when I was learning how to drive. Scared but eager, excited for what’s to come.
For months, I’ve been poring over updates and photos of this very house, noting all the entry points, all the potential dangers to the precious people inside it, imagining Marissa waking up, thinking, having her coffee, emailing me.
Every night for more than a month, I’ve been falling asleep with her voice in my ear. I know how her mind works, I know her daily routines, I know the way she deals with pain and grief.
What I don’t know is how she’s gonna react to seeing me in person again.
“Welcome, boss.”
I turn around as I’m putting my cut back on, and I’m greeted by the terrifying grin of Eddie, the puppetmaster, pulling the strings of the devil on Mushroom’s shirt.
“Hey Shroomie,” I reply affectionately.
We all love and somewhat baby the twins, especially Mushroom, despite the fact that they’re 26 and by no means kids.
Most people think that the female half of the duo got her road name because of her short stature and her head full of curls, but if they mess with her, they quickly learn that she’s pure poison.
That’s what makes her one of my best people, and I often use her for jobs that require a covert bodyguard.
Shiner, on the other hand, is brute force personified, despite his trademark lazy grin.
“Where’s your brother?”
“He’s inside, helping Rissy disassemble DJ’s crib.”
“Rissy?” I hope my tone comes across as distaste for the nickname.
“Aw, don’t be jealous, boss man. All she does is ask about you. Hawk this, Hawk that, what is Hawk like as a boss?” she mocks in a sing-song voice, but her affection for Marissa is clear in her face.
“Can you let her know I’m here? Thanks,” I manage to croak out as I nervously run my palm over my head.
I feel my heart beating in my throat. My mouth is dry. Excitement and fear swirl around my insides.
Then I hear the door open, and I’m a piece of steel being pulled to a large magnet. My whole body knows it’s her. I turn around, and she’s standing there in faded jeans and a black No Doubt shirt.
Marissa.
Even her name is sensual, the two hissing S’s at the end reminiscent of the sound a lover makes when you gently bite her neck.
Kiss.
Miss.
Bliss.
She looks nervous. And tired. Exhausted, really. Her hair doesn't go past her shoulders now.
The time spent inside made her even paler, and her face and body appear fuller than they did the last time I saw her. I itch to squeeze all the soft parts of her, to see them jiggle and bounce in all sorts of dirty scenarios.
Marissa’s clutching the doorknob as if her life depends on it.
I don’t move a muscle. I want her to be the one to come to me, to take the first step, so I wait, like I’ve been doing for the last three months. Even if it kills me.
Come on, baby, you can do it, I will her inside my head. Just a few steps and then I’ll take it from there. You'll never have to worry about anything ever again.
I smile at her encouragingly, and then, something inside her clicks.
Before I know it, Marissa’s running towards me, and I catch her. All of her. The fears, the baggage, the raw need that burns so brightly inside her.
I’m hugging her tightly, and we sway from side to side. She is soft and warm, smelling of shampoo and fabric softener.
One of my hands is holding her waist, while the other cups her head, which is nestled right under my chin. It’s a perfect fit.
A few minutes into the hug, her trembling stops, and her breathing starts to match mine.
“It’s weird,” she mumbles into my chest, and I move half an inch so she can be heard more clearly.
“What is?”
“It’s like you’re my best friend who’s also a stranger.”
I chuckle and press her back into my body. Both of her arms are under my cut, wrapped around my waist, with her hands most likely resting on my concealed weapon, but she doesn’t move them. We’re practically glued to each other, and neither of us seems to mind.
“I know what you mean,” I tell her. “I’ve discussed very personal, even traumatic, things with you, and yet today is the first time I’ve seen you with your hands unbound.”
She laughs, and I want to kiss her mouth.
“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it. But then I looked at you, and I felt safe. I knew it would be alright to come out.”
“I’m proud of you,” I say almost sheepishly. “And where’s DJ?”
“He’s napping but should be up soon. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
It’s been about seven minutes since she came out of the house, and we’ve been hugging the entire time. Marissa’s arms give me one last squeeze before she takes a step back, looking slightly self-conscious.
I put both my hands in my pockets, trying to discreetly adjust myself.
“Seriously, Hawk. Thanks for doing this. The job, driving down here to help us move... All of it.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I tell her, and she smiles. “Is this car seat okay?” I tilt my head towards the car, and she leans over to peer inside the window.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have bothered, DJ already has his car seat in my,” she looks away and presses her lips together. “He already has one.”
“I got a deal from a club brother whose baby outgrew it,” I massage the truth a little. “I figured you’d leave that one for his dad to use when he has him.”
Marissa blinks several times in quick succession. “That’s a good point. Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll pay you back, though.”
I look heavenwards.
“I’ll start bringing the boxes out,” she says while pointing her thumb back to the house.
Now, I glare at her. “The day I stand around while you carry boxes back and forth is the day they might as well put me in the ground,” I tell her sternly.
“But your ribs! And your leg,” she protests, but I make a beckoning palm towards where I know the twins are eavesdropping, and they immediately walk up to us.
When she hears the gravel crunching under their boots, Marissa turns around a bit too quickly. As much as her hypervigilance concerns me, I’m pleased that she instinctively stepped closer to me when she sensed danger.
“We got this,” I tell her. “You tell us if there’s anything we need to be extra careful with, or what to put last so you can unpack it first.”
“Sorry, guys,” Marissa tells the twins, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of burdening anyone with anything.
“No worries, Rissy,” Mushroom tells her breezily. “Hawk’s paying us time and a half to be here.”