7. MARCY
MARCY
Isniff, rubbing the heel of my palm against my eyes, forcing the last of the tears away. My face is probably blotchy, my nose red, but I don’t care. I’m not about to sit here and wallow. I let myself break for a minute, but that’s all my father gets.
Hawk hasn’t moved. His arm still rests lightly around my back.
I exhale, tilting my head back, looking up at the sky. The stars are just starting to peek through, the colors of the sunset bleeding into deep purples and blues.
Hawk shifts beside me, his voice low. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we just gonna sit here and pretend you didn’t cry all over my shirt?”
I scoff, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my sweater. “I barely cried on you.”
He raises an eyebrow, looking down at the damp spot on his shoulder.
I sigh. “Fine. A little.”
Hawk smirks. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll survive.”
I roll my eyes, kicking at the sand. “My dad’s been a real asshole lately.”
Hawk stays quiet.
I glance at him, then back at the waves. “You might’ve seen him on TV. Bigshot billionaire, running for Senate, wants to save the world or whatever.” My lips twist. “He’s the good guy, you know. The one shaking hands with politicians and throwing money at charities.”
Hawk doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. But something flickers across his face, just for a second. A flash of something dark.
Then it’s gone.
I frown slightly but push forward. “Thing is, he’s only the good guy when it comes to his image. Not when it comes to his own daughter.”
Hawk finally speaks, his voice casual. “Yeah?”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah.” I shift, digging my fingers into the cool sand. “Just this morning, I went to get my car—my car, the one I paid for—and they told me it was gone. Repossessed.”
Hawk’s brows pull together. “Your dad repossessed your car?”
“Oh, yeah. Turns out, the title was still under his name. Oops.” I roll my eyes. “And since I had the audacity to not come crawling back after he cut off my bank account, I guess he figured taking my car was the next logical step.”
Hawk whistles low. “That’s some next-level control-freak shit.”
I snort. “Welcome to my childhood.”
He studies me for a second, then leans back on his hands. “So what now?”
I exhale, watching the waves. “Now?” I set my jaw. “Now I figure it out. He wants me to come running back, desperate? Not happening. He wants me to need him? Screw that.” I glance at Hawk, my eyes sharp. “I’m not going to let him win.”
A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”
I stare out at the ocean. Going against my father would be harder than I imagine it should be. He has all the power in this town.
Hawk must sense that I’m teetering on the edge of spiraling again, because he nudges me with his shoulder. “So, tell me. You got a plan to steal your car back? Or are we going full heist mode—black ski masks, getaway driver, maybe a dramatic car chase?”
I snort, wiping the last of the wetness from my cheeks. “Oh, yeah, sure. That sounds like a solid plan. I’ll just break into the impound lot, hot-wire it, and be on my way.”
Hawk nods solemnly. “I like it. Fast and Furious meets Daddy Issues.”
I groan, nudging him back. “Oh my God, shut up.”
“Or,” he muses, rubbing his jaw, “you could just get a motorcycle. Way more fun. Plus, your dad would hate it, which is always a bonus.”
I arch a brow. “And you’d teach me?”
“Absolutely. I’m an excellent teacher.”
“Right. Because that’s what you do in your spare time. Mentor troubled rich girls on how to not crash a bike.”
He grins. “You’d be my first.”
“Lucky me.”
I shake my head, but it’s impossible not to laugh. He’s good at this—pulling me out of my head, making me forget that my life is currently one giant dumpster fire.
My gaze drifts over his arm, to the ink swirling along his forearm, disappearing under the sleeve of his cut. “That’s a cool tattoo.”
Hawk glances down at it, flexing his fingers like he hasn’t looked at it in years. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I saw something similar on Ryder. You guys match?”
He chuckles. “Something like that.”
I tilt my head, curiosity bubbling up. “You were in the military, right?”
His expression shifts slightly—still relaxed, still that easy, cocky charm—but there’s something underneath it now.
“Ex-Navy SEAL,” he confirms. “Ryder. CJ, too. The whole club is made up of guys who served together.”
I blink. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
I absorb that, running my finger through the sand absently. “That explains a lot.”
“Like what?”
“Like why you guys walk around like you own every room you step into. That whole ‘I could kill a man with my pinky’ energy.”
Hawk laughs, the sound low and warm. “We could kill a man with our pinkies.”
“Oh, sure. That’s comforting.”
He grins but doesn’t elaborate. I narrow my eyes at him, studying the ink on his skin again.
“So,” I start, tilting my head. “What kind of top-secret missions did you go on?”
Hawk leans back on his hands, looking at me with pure amusement. “Can’t tell you that, sweetheart. Some things I can’t share.”
I smirk. “Is that how you impress women? A man of mystery?”
His lips twitch. “Are you impressed?”
I hesitate for half a second, then shrug. “Maybe.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Maybe,” he repeats, like he’s rolling the word around on his tongue, tasting it.
“So, you’re not gonna tell me anything about your missions?” I press, giving him a teasing look.
He smirks, shaking his head. “Nope.”
I scoff. “Wow. Not even, like, a hint? A little classified intel for the poor, stranded civilian?”
“Afraid not, sweetheart. You don’t have clearance.”
I roll my eyes, but then a thought pops into my head, and before I can stop myself, I say it.
“My dad used to work with the CIA in Afghanistan.”
Hawk stills, just for a fraction of a second. If I wasn’t watching him so closely, I might’ve missed it.
I continue, pretending not to notice. “I mean, I don’t know the details or anything. He never talks about it. I only know because I overheard him on a call once.” I glance at him sideways. “Do you know something about it?”
Hawk’s face is unreadable for a beat too long. Then, he shifts, stretching his arms behind his head. “Your dad’s got his hands in a lot of things, doesn’t he?”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach twist.
Before I can ask more, he suddenly sits up, brushing off his hands. “You ever been to The Den during the holidays?”
I blink at the sudden shift. “Uh… no?”
Hawk grins. “We throw a Thanksgiving party every year. Food, booze, the whole thing. Christmas, too. It’s a big deal for the club. Families, friends, the works.”
I narrow my eyes. He’s definitely changing the subject. But I let it slide—for now.
Instead, an idea forms in my head, and before I can talk myself out of it, I say, “I want to work at the bar.”
Hawk’s smirk fades slightly. “Yeah, that might not be the best idea.”
Disappointment flickers through me. Of course. I should’ve known.
Before I can tell him to forget it, he watches my face for a second, then sighs. “Tell you what… why don’t you help me with the Thanksgiving and Christmas events instead?”
I frown. “You serious?”
“You’d be doing me a favor,” he says smoothly. “Besides, you’ve got event experience.”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know that?”
His smirk returns, easy and cocky. “You’re not hard to find on the internet.”
My pulse ticks up.
Hawk leans in slightly, his voice lower now. “Though, I’d prefer knowing about you—from you.”
My breath catches.
For a guy who deflects like a pro, he sure knows how to put me on the spot.
And damn it, I think I like it.
Hawk’s watching me closely, his moss-green eyes flickering over my face like he’s figuring out exactly what I’m thinking. And the way he looks at me? It’s like he already knows.
I swallow hard, feeling my pulse tick up. He wants me. That much is obvious. I mean, we almost had sex two days ago. Just the thought of it makes me blush.
But then, doubt creeps in. He’s older than me—way older. What if this is just some fleeting amusement for him? A fun little distraction before he moves on to someone who actually knows what she’s doing?
Because, God help me, I don’t.
Would he still want me if he knew I was a virgin? If he realized that for all my confidence, for all my bravado, I’ve never actually taken that final step?
And worse… I can’t shake his reaction when he found out who I really was. Although, Hawk doesn’t seem like the type of man to date a politician’s daughter for clout.
I should walk away. I shouldn’t test this.
But something in me wants to push. Wants to see how far I can take it before one of us breaks.
I tilt my chin up, feigning nonchalance. “Okay,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I’ll work for you.”
Hawk arches a brow. “Yeah?”
“On one condition.”
A smirk plays at his lips. “What’s that?”
I hold his gaze, letting the words roll out into the wind, soft and deliberate.
“You take me on a ride.”
The moment the words leave my lips, his expression changes. His eyes darken, and his entire body stills for half a second.
And fuck, I feel it. The pull.
Hawk tilts his head, his smirk deepening like he’s in on the joke, but I see the way he exhales, the way his fingers twitch against his knee.
I let the silence stretch, then add, “On your bike, that is.”
His laugh is low, deep, laced with something undeniably wicked.
“That I can do,” he murmurs, standing up, stretching his arms behind his head before letting them fall loose at his sides.
Then he smirks, eyes glinting with pure mischief.
“Give you a ride,” he repeats, voice dripping with suggestion.
“On my bike, and…” he steps a little closer, “anything else you might like.”
My breath catches.
And I realize maybe I just started a game I have no idea how to win.