Renegade Hawke (The Hawke Family Second Generation #7)

Chapter 1

BISHOP

The familiar antiseptic scent that desperately tries to cover that of sickness and death fills my lungs. Each breath becomes increasingly harder to take the longer I wait, as if the tainted air is slowly killing me as much as the uncertainty and worry threatens to.

It doesn’t help that there’s no escaping the cacophony of sounds that always overwhelms the hospital.

Beeping of machines…

Squeak of shoes on tile…

Cries of pain and loss…

All of it permeates my head, making a dull ache form at my temples. I’d also love to blame all of it for the way my stomach roils, but it isn’t the smell or the sounds making me feel like I’m being eaten alive from the inside out…

It’s guilt.

Plain and simple.

Because this shouldn’t all be so familiar.

It shouldn’t be someplace I’m constantly finding myself.

If I were doing my job properly…it wouldn’t be.

That’s what it comes down to—if I were actually capable of protecting the people I love the way I’m supposed to, we wouldn’t have to be in this hospital.

Again.

But I’ve failed.

Over and over.

And there is no denying it’s why we are here right now…

This is all my fault.

I stand in the hallway peeking into the room where both Jack and Allegra lie in their beds.

While Allegra looks far better now than she did at the club, and Jack appears more annoyed than ill, the fact is, they’re still here.

They’re still in danger. There are still too many unknowns around what made them so sick.

Isaac and Coen fawn all over them while they await results from the battery of tests Aunt Nora and Pope have run, their distress creating a palpable tension that vibrates through me.

Because I share it.

That feeling that something is just wrong.

Since the moment Coen came rushing out of the bathroom at the club with Allegra in his arms and told me she was sick and so was Jack, I knew, deep in my gut, that it wasn’t a coincidence.

It can’t be.

I haven’t believed in those in a very long time, and I’m confident this is somehow connected to Satriano and the diabolical plans he loves to set in motion when it comes to the Hawkes.

A man like him doesn’t simply give up the kind of vendetta he’s held against us for so long.

That isn’t something you just let go.

It doesn’t matter that Allegra is his daughter. She may share his blood; she may have been raised by the man; but she made her choice. A very dangerous one. She crossed the invisible line drawn between Satriano and us that is somehow still very real to the other side—to the Hawke side.

She betrayed her father.

We all know there will be consequences for that, and I only had one job: to keep them safe and ensure something like this didn’t happen.

“Fuck!”

I smash my fist against the wall, hard enough to make my knuckles sting.

“If you do that again, you’re going to end up breaking it.

” Astrid’s voice cuts through my fog of self-loathing as she steps up beside me and leans her shoulder on the wall, her blond hair cascading over her collarbone.

Hawke-blue eyes assess me, searching my face intently.

“Seriously. Hitting something this hard isn’t the best idea. ”

“Yeah, well”—I shake out my hand, the sting reminding me all too vividly of my failures and the pain the Hawkes have suffered because of them—“I can’t exactly head to the gym now, can I?”

Her gaze narrows on me. “Look, we’re all upset, Bishop—”

“Upset?” I raise a brow at her. “I crossed upset and went way beyond it a long time ago. I didn’t keep them safe, Astrid, I fucked up…”

And I can’t even voice the potential consequences of that.

She releases a long sigh. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Believe what?”

Astrid’s features soften even more, her concern written across her face and the way she watches me.

She’s always been the most empathetic of all of us, and while that quality is typically a good one to have, when I just want to be left alone and wallow in my guilt, it can be grating.

“That it’s your sole responsibility to keep everyone safe? ”

“I mean…yes.” I throw out my open hands toward the room. “That’s literally my job.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “No. It isn’t.

You’re one of many people who handle security for us.

And technically, Saint is in charge of running it.

You’re just his second in command. If something did happen to Jack and Allegra, if someone managed to slip something into their food or their drinks, or whatever else could’ve caused this, that doesn’t mean it happened on your watch and that it was your fault. ”

I clench my fists and that ache flares in my knuckles, but I don’t mind it. In some strange, masochistic way, I crave it. I need the reminder so I never fail again. “Yes, it does, because if I wasn’t there personally, I should have been.”

Her blond brows fly up. “And what? You’re going to taste-test every single thing every one of us eats or drinks for the rest of our lives?”

Well, when she puts it that way, it sounds fucking stupid, doesn’t it?

I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose in a futile attempt to alleviate the pounding that has moved from my temples to behind my eyes.

“I don’t know.” A long sigh falls from my lips, filled with all the frustration that’s coiled inside me with no way to release it.

“I just can’t believe we’re here again…”

It’s been one mistake on my part after another.

First, Jack was taken, then the bombing of the Grind, the shooting at the reopening, and the sniper attack on the penthouse that almost killed Atlas and Astrid…

Everyone has suffered, either directly or by watching those we love bleed and lose things sacred to them.

Each of us is scarred in some way.

The woman in front of me certainly hasn’t been the same since the shooting.

She tries to hide it behind an easy smile or by spending every waking moment she has tutoring our employees or helping anywhere she can at the clubs, the Grind, or elsewhere, but I see it for what it really is—a defense mechanism.

Because she doesn’t want to be alone.

She’s afraid to be…

And there’s only one reason for that—me.

I release the bridge of my nose and open my eyes again to find Astrid watching me carefully. “You’ve suffered as much as anyone.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her jaw hardening.

Something dark crosses her typically warm gaze.

It’s fleeting, but it’s there. And it isn’t the first time I’ve seen it since she was shot and almost died.

She continues to fight whatever demons are chasing her and refuses to let any of us help, which is why I thought she of all people would understand. “I know.”

“Then how can you be so calm about this? What if—”

She steps forward and grabs my wrists, squeezing them gently.

“Don’t think about worst-case scenarios.

You’ll drive yourself crazy.” Inclining her head toward the room, she locks her gaze with mine.

“They’re going to be okay. Nora and Pope have run every test under the sun to figure out what’s wrong.

So, take a breath, all right? And stop hitting walls. ”

Deep down, I know she’s right—that panicking or allowing my distress to show will only make things worse.

I’m here to keep them safe.

I can’t do that if my head isn’t in the game.

I nod, forcing myself to draw in a shaky breath even though the sting of failure and suffocating panic still battle to control me.

And that pisses me off more than anything about this entire situation.

It isn’t like me to spiral, to give in to those emotions that prevent me from focusing on my job, on the task at hand, which, right now, should be tracking down whoever is responsible for what happened to Jack and Allegra.

But this has been building and building with each attack on the Hawkes, each time I fail to prevent another catastrophe, and it’s only getting worse.

Get a fucking grip, girl!

Another deep breath helps me regain a bit of my composure, but Pope and Aunt Nora appear down the hallway behind Astrid, and any hope I had to let go of that rising tide of panic disappears.

I immediately tug out of Astrid’s hold and rush toward them, unable to wait for even the few seconds it would take for them to reach us to find out what they’ve learned.

Falling into step with them, I raise a brow. “What’s wrong? Are they going to be okay?”

Nora inclines her head to indicate that we should keep walking toward the room instead of stopping to discuss this in the middle of the hallway and issues me a reproachful look.

She’s already kicked out the rest of the family and banished them to the waiting room due to their incessant questions and buzzing around, but I refused and stood fast by the door despite her objections.

I failed to protect them everywhere else, but I damn well am not going to leave them unprotected here.

No one has gone in or out of that room unless they were family since Nora and Pope brought them over from the clinic after determining they needed more testing than they could handle there.

It would have been more private.

Easier to control and defend should anyone take the opportunity to attack while we were distracted.

But ultimately, Nora wanted them here. Which means that’s exactly where I will stay.

She steps into the room first, followed by Astrid, but I grab Pope’s arm and keep him back.

“Well?”

He offers me an incredulous look. “You think I’m going to give away confidential medical information to you?”

I glower at him. “This isn’t the time to try me, little brother.”

Pope stares down from almost a foot above me, fighting a grin. “Call me little brother again. I dare you.”

The humor in his threat somehow cuts through the tension about to snap me in half—likely his very intention. He knows how wound up I’ve been since I arrived, and he also understands—as a brother and a doctor—that it isn’t healthy for me to get like this.