Chapter 37 - Hawk
HAWK
Vinnie’s phone buzzes.
He wrinkles his forehead. “It’s security at the gate.” He picks up the phone. “This is Vinnie Gallo.”
Pause.
His eyes go wide. “Fuck, yes! Let them through.” He turns to me. “It’s Belinda. It’s Belinda!”
I’m on my feet before I even register the movement.
The chair topples behind me. My pulse is already a freight train in my ears by the time I reach the foyer.
Vinnie beats me there, because of course he does.
It’s his house, his security system, his turf.
He throws open the door just as a car rolls up.
Belinda emerges from the backseat.
“Belinda,” he breathes. His voice cracks in the middle.
And there she is.
Messy hair, pale face, clothes rumpled like she’s been sleeping in them for days.
But it’s her.
Alive. Breathing. Running toward the house like nothing in the world makes sense anymore.
Vinnie doesn’t even hesitate. He scoops her up, crushing her to his chest. “Thank God,” he mutters into her hair. “Thank God you’re home.”
For a moment I can’t move. I’m too stunned by the sight. Relief punches through me so hard it almost knocks me over.
But there’s something wrong about the timing. My brain starts doing math automatically, the same way it does when something doesn’t add up on a crime scene.
Too soon.
Way too soon.
Daniela was still on the highway when her phone went into airplane mode. She would have probably just gotten…
Fuck.
If Belinda’s already here, that means the chef’s part of the bargain has already been fulfilled…
Or maybe it’s something else entirely.
I force my legs to move, step forward into the doorway. “Belinda.”
“Hi,” she says, her voice trembling.
“Come inside,” I tell her gently. “You’re safe now.”
Vinnie ushers her in and sits her on the couch. She perches on the edge, twisting her hands in her lap. She looks small, younger than I remember. Raven hurries down from the second floor, clutching a blanket, and wraps it around Belinda’s shoulders.
Vinnie crouches in front of her. “Sweetheart, can you tell us what happened? Where were you?”
She swallows, her gaze unfixed. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I—”
Vinnie quiets her with a hand to her arm. “It’s not your fault. Just tell us what happened. Where were you?”
She draws in a deep breath. “I was in this house, I guess? Like a cabin, but really old. It smelled like dust and metal.”
I exchange a look with Vinnie. “Did anyone hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “No. They didn’t touch me. I promise.”
“They?” I ask.
Belinda frowns, thinking. “Two men. One of them had dark hair, and he kept calling the other one ‘Chef.’ The second one… He talked funny.”
My gut goes cold. “Did one of them look like this?”
I pull up Reyes’s photo on my phone and hold it out. She hesitates for half a second but then nods. “That’s him. The one who called the other one ‘Chef.’”
“Reyes,” I mutter. The name burns in my throat. “Son of a bitch.”
Belinda keeps talking, her voice trembling but her words clear.
“They didn’t really talk to me much. They gave me water, and crackers, and said I’d be going home soon.
This morning, one of them woke me up really early and told me to get ready.
He took me to a bus stop. He said I was going home, and that someone would make sure I got there safely. ”
Vinnie leans forward. “Who was that someone?”
“A nice man at the station,” she says. “He helped me get on the bus. He said someone had paid for my ticket already. When I got to the bus station in town, he was there again—same guy—and he called an Uber for me. He said he wanted to make sure I got home safe.”
My stomach drops. “Did he say who sent him?”
She shakes her head. “No. But when he called the Uber, I saw the name pop up on the app. It said ‘Daniel R.’”
Vinnie’s eyes narrow. “Daniel R. Got it.” He stands, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “If the driver just dropped her off, I might be able to catch him before he leaves.”
He bolts for the door. I follow, just in time to see the Uber—a silver Honda—pulling away from the curb. Vinnie jogs up beside it, waving his hands. The driver brakes, rolling down the window. He’s a middle-aged guy with tired eyes.
Vinnie leans in. “Hey, sorry to bother you. The girl you just dropped off—who paid for that ride?”
The driver shrugs. “I don’t know, man. Some guy named”—he checks his phone—“Daniel R. Ordered it through the app. Paid extra for priority pickup.”
“You remember what he looked like?”
The driver frowns. “Didn’t see him in person. Just a voice on the phone. Sounded older. Smooth. Kind of formal, if that makes sense. He said to make sure the girl got home safe and to text him when she did.”
“Did you text him?”
“Of course. He tipped me fifty bucks.”
Vinnie slips him another hundred. “If he calls or texts again, you let me know. Immediately.”
The man nods quickly. “Yes, sir.”
Vinnie thanks him and walks back, pocketing the driver’s number. “Daniel R,” he mutters. “Whoever that is, I owe him.”
“Owe him what?”
“A shit ton of money,” Vinnie says, “or a bullet. Depends on which side he’s on.”
We go back inside. Belinda’s sipping cocoa Raven must have made while we were out.
Her hands are trembling, but she’s calmer now, her voice steady as she answers Raven’s gentle questions.
I can tell Vinnie wants to stay, to hover, to make sure she doesn’t disappear again.
But my mind is already moving, fast and cold.
Reyes. Chef. Daniel R.
Too many moving pieces.
I pull out my laptop and set it on the table. “Belinda,” I say carefully. “Can you think really hard and describe the house where they kept you? Anything that stood out? Paint color, smell, furniture, anything.”
She chews on her lip. “It was kind of yellow on the outside, I think. But the paint was peeling. And there was this big window with a curtain that had holes in it. The floor creaked a lot. And there was a swing set outside, but one of the swings was missing.”
“Got it,” I say, typing as she speaks. “Anything else?”
She closes her eyes and wrinkles of focused thought thread across her forehead. “Trees. A lot of them. But no neighbors. Just woods.”
That’s enough to go on. I start cross-referencing the details with every property in Reyes’s name within a hundred-mile radius. There are more than I expected—safehouses, rentals, fake names tied to shell companies. But then one address jumps out at me.
A small single-family property about an hour north of where Daniela’s phone last pinged before she went dark. It fits everything—woods, isolation, age, layout.
I switch to Street View. The screen fills with the image of a sagging old house, two stories tall, its yellow paint faded almost white.
“Belinda,” I say, turning the screen toward her. “Is this it?”
Her breath catches. “Yes,” she whispers. “That’s where I was.”
Vinnie exhales slowly, rubbing his forehead. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I don’t wait. I’m already grabbing my keys.
“Hawk,” Vinnie warns. “Wait.”
“I’m not waiting,” I snap. “You said it yourself. She’s barely back, which means Dani just got there. If I leave now, I can make it before—”
“Before what?” he cuts in. “Before he kills her? You don’t even know what’s waiting for you out there. Reyes could have ten men on site. Or worse.”
“Then I’ll take ten guns,” I growl. “I’m not sitting around while she’s—” I can’t finish the sentence. My throat locks.
Vinnie’s expression softens. “Hawk, listen. I get it. I do. But she went there for Belinda. Belinda’s safe now. Dani did what she went there to do. If you go storming in without a plan, she dies for nothing.”
I look at him, jaw tight. “Are you going to stop me?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. The silence between us is answer enough.
I shove past him, out the door.