Chapter 34 Daniela
DANIELA
The hall smells like sugar and bleach.
I keep my head down. Bag on my shoulder. Keys in my fist like claws.
Jordan’s by the exit, talking to Gina. Laughing like he didn’t accuse the man I brought yesterday of stalking him. He turns at the sound of my steps.
Nope.
I pivot, cut through the side hall, slip past the vending machines and out the service door. Heat slaps my face. It’s a normal Texas afternoon.
I approach my Mustang and tap unlock on my key fob.
“Daniela!” Jordan’s voice carries.
I don’t turn.
I’m done with him for today.
I slide in, slam the door, and lock it. I throw my bag onto the passenger seat and breathe.
In. Out. Slow.
My phone vibrates.
Hawk.
A tight ache blooms under my ribs. I swipe. “What took you so long?”
“You wouldn’t believe the fucking day I’ve had.” His voice is low, rough.
“The day you’ve had?” I stare through the windshield. “Let’s talk about the day you had yesterday.”
Silence.
“Before you came over to Vinnie and Raven’s,” I say. “Did you, for example, stalk Jordan and then break into his house?”
He exhales. A long, tired sound. He doesn’t reply.
“I need the truth,” I say. “I need it now.”
Another beat. Then, “Yes.”
My throat goes tight. “Yes what?”
“Yes, I followed him. Yes, I went into his house.”
I close my eyes. The heat presses in even with the AC on. “He’s suspicious,” I say. “He thinks it was you. But as far as I know, he doesn’t have concrete proof. But why would you do all that behind my back?”
“Because you got roses wrapped in barbed wire,” he says. “Because the guy who smiles at you in class also watches you like you belong to him. I’m not leaving that to chance.”
“I told you I was pretty sure he wasn’t behind the gifts,” I say. “He’s a run-of-the-mill douchebag, not a criminal mastermind. I specifically asked you not to go after him.”
“I heard you.”
“And you did it anyway.”
“I did.”
I grip the wheel until my knuckles whiten. “Now I have to worry about him finding out more. Cameras. Plates. A trail.”
“Jordan is the least of my worries right now.”
“What does that mean?”
He goes quiet. I hear something in the background. Wind? A door? I imagine him in motion, always moving, always looking for the next thing to break.
“Hawk.”
Another exhale. “I went to Reyes’s house.”
The world narrows. “What?”
“I went to West Lake Hills. He was there.” Hawk clears his throat. “Sitting in a guest room he turned into a smoking lounge.”
I gulp.
Part of me hopes he pummeled Hernando Reyes into paper pulp. He deserves the worst. But another part of me is filled with dread. I don’t want Hawk in danger. I don’t want him in danger because of me.
“What did you do?” I finally ask.
“I asked questions.”
I swallow down nausea. “What did you do, Hawk?”
A pause. “I put him on the floor. We fought. He swung first—well, second—but it doesn’t matter. He’s alive.”
My pulse spikes. “And now?”
“Now he’s…contained.”
Oh, God… I really feel the nausea now. I have to pull over to the side of the road.
“Dani? You there?”
“Yeah.” I gulp again. “Contained where?”
Silence again. Then, “In an old barn on the Bellamy property.”
I grip the wheel harder. The horn almost honks from the pressure. “You can’t do that.”
“I did.”
“You can’t take people. You can’t tie them up. You can’t—God, Hawk—this isn’t a movie. There are proper channels.”
“Dani…”
I pound a fist on my steering wheel. “I’ve lived my whole life with criminals. I can’t do it again, Hawk. I fucking can’t!”
He doesn’t reply.
“You’re a Bellamy,” I say. “You have more money than God. Use it. Don’t—” I choke on the rest. “Don’t put yourself in handcuffs for me.”
A pause. “I was doing it for your protection.”
“If this is what your protection looks like, I don’t want it.”
Silence. Thick. Heavy.
He says softly, “Say that again.”
“If this is your protection, I don’t want it,” I say, enunciating each word derisively. “I won’t be the reason you go to prison.”
“I’m not going to prison.”
“You sure?” My laugh breaks. “You followed a man. You broke into his home. You abducted another. You assaulted him. You’re keeping him in a barn like a—like a—”
“Like leverage,” he says. No apology. No shame. “Until I know who’s behind the gifts. Until I know who’s watching you.”
“Then you hire help,” I say. “Real help. You step back. You breathe. You don’t burn down the city.”
“I’m done waiting. Done being the good guy who everyone counts on to do the right thing. Where has that gotten me? Where has it gotten Eagle?”
I rest my forehead on the wheel. The leather smells like heat and old coffee. “Please, Hawk…”
“I can’t sit by and wait for someone to do worse to you, Daniela. I can’t. And I won’t.”
A car pulls past, stereo bass thumping. The mirror rattles. Sweat beads at my hairline even with the AC blowing. The day is too bright, the world too loud.
“What are you going to do with him?” I ask. “With Reyes?”
“Keep him where he is,” he says. “For now. He’ll talk. They always do.”
“They don’t. Not about what matters.”
“He’ll talk to me.” His tone is darker.
My chest tightens. I picture a barn. Dust in the slanted light. Rope biting skin.
I hate Reyes. I do. I hate what he did to me. But this…
This is a different wrong. He deserves it, but Hawk could get in serious trouble.
And I can’t lose him. He’s a rancher. He doesn’t understand what kind of person Reyes is.
The connections he has. He’s a criminal, and if he gets free, he’ll hunt Hawk down like an animal and make him suffer horrible things.
“You can’t keep him,” I say.
“I can. I will. Until I have what I need.”
“And if he never gives it?”
“Then I’ll find someone else who will.”
My eyes sting with tears. “This isn’t you.”
“This is exactly me.”
“No.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see. “Why didn’t you answer me sooner? I texted you before class started. You left me twisting all day.”
“Because I was working,” he says. “Because I knew you were safe at school, and I had things to do.”
A raw sound tears up my throat. I press my lips together to hold it back. “You should have told me about Jordan.”
“I knew what you’d say,” he says, bitterness lacing his words. “What you already said.”
“I would’ve said don’t. I would’ve said wait.”
“And I can’t,” he says. “I can’t wait while someone fucking ends your life, Dani.”
Rage flares in me. Then fear. Then grief. I don’t know which is bigger.
“I need you sane,” I whisper. “I need you here. Not in a prison cell. Not on the front page. Not—” My breath hitches. “Not gone.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can’t promise that. Not when you’re doing…”
A beat. “Do you want me to let him go?”
I can’t answer. And I hate that I can’t. Because I hate Hernando Reyes as much as Hawk does. Probably more.
A small silence grows between us. I hear him breathe. I hear myself breathe. The car’s AC whirs.
“Dani,” he says finally, softer. “I can put people on Jordan. Quietly. I can move Reyes out of the barn and into something cleaner. I can—”
“Cleaner?” I swallow a humorless laugh. “This isn’t about optics.”
He’s quiet. The weight of it lands. I hear it hit him.
“I don’t want your protection like this,” I say. “Not if the price is you.”
“Dani—”
“I can’t do this on the phone,” I say. “And I can’t do it at all if you won’t listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“Then hear me,” I say. “Hire a PI. Cut the rope. Step back.”
He doesn’t answer.
I stare at the windshield until the world blurs. “Say something.”
“I can’t promise that,” he says.
“That’s not good enough.”
“I know.”
It breaks something cleanly inside me. No jagged edge. Just a snap.
“Then don’t call me,” I say. “Not until you can.”
“Dani—”
I end the call.
The phone screen goes black. My reflection is small and wrecked in the glass.
I set it face down on the passenger seat. The tears come hard and fast, hot tracks down my cheeks. I press my forehead to the wheel and let it happen.
No gasping. No drama. Just a steady, ugly cry that I can’t stop.
I cry until the tightness in my chest loosens and the ache under my ribs dulls. I swipe my cheeks with the heel of my hand and stare at nothing.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know how to love a man who will burn himself to keep me warm.
I don’t know how to let him.
I don’t know how to watch him turn into someone he isn’t, or maybe someone he always was. How would I even know? I barely know him.
I get back onto the road.
And I drive.