Chapter 1 #2
I can’t help the twitch of a smile, despite my current distress. “I’ll see you in the ring in the morning, and we can put this to the test.”
He grins and tugs out of my hold easily, and that tilt of his lips is enough to ease a little of my worry. If they were in danger, he wouldn’t be so quick with a smile.
I follow him into the room where Coen and Isaac are already on their feet, each of them gripping the hand of the woman they love tightly.
Matching sets of panicked blue eyes land on Nora.
Isaac swallows thickly. “Mom? What is it?”
She offers a tight smile and glances at Pope, sharing a look I can’t quite decipher.
Coen shifts restlessly. “Mom, what’s wrong with them? Do you know?”
“We have the results of some of the tests back. Others, we’re still waiting on, but given their symptoms, I feel comfortable saying that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with either of them.”
Coen and Isaac’s brows both furrow, and Jack and Allegra join them in looking utterly confused.
What the hell does she mean?
Isaac shakes his head. “Mom, I don’t understand…”
Nora locks gazes with her eldest. “They’ve both been exhausted, dizzy, nauseous, feeling off…”
He and Coen nod.
Her eyes drift to her daughter-in-law and then the newest member of the Hawke flock. Jack exchanges an unsure look with Allegra, but it only takes a few seconds for Jack’s eyes to widen.
“Oh, shit!” She looks to Nora. “We’re pregnant, aren’t we?”
Nora can’t fight her grin. “You are. Both of you.”
What?
My breath catches.
Isaac’s gaze cuts over to his younger brother before they both drop back down into the chairs beside the beds as if their legs can’t hold them up anymore.
I understand the feeling.
Both of them?
Astrid releases a squeal of delight and claps her hands, but Coen’s worried gaze sweeps over Allegra, who appears stunned speechless.
Her wide gray eyes carry a mix of excitement and deep dread, which I imagine is tied to the situation with her father and what this might mean for it.
Isaac shares a look with Jack that is pure, unadulterated joy and adoration.
And suddenly, I feel like I’m intruding on something I absolutely don’t need to be a part of.
Because I know exactly what’s coming.
They’re going to get all gooey and lovey dovey, and I’m going to be the one who ends up throwing up even though they’re dealing with morning sickness.
I back out of the room and pull my phone from my pocket, but Astrid hurries after me, following my path toward the waiting room.
She grins, the happy, bubbly energy she used to always have seeping from her now, completely overwhelming the earlier melancholy when discussing what happened to her. “Where are you off to so fast?”
“I can’t be here right now.” Not when it feels like the walls are closing in on me. “I’m going to get my dad to stand guard.”
“Wait, Bish.” She grabs my arm, halting my flight. “You should be happy.”
I should be.
It should be a relief to know both of them are only experiencing symptoms of something everyone in the family will be thrilled about, but I can’t shake this feeling that more is happening that I’m missing.
“Just because someone didn’t do something to Jack and Allegra this time doesn’t mean they haven’t tried or won’t try in the future.”
“Bishop…”—she sighs—“can’t you relax for one second and be excited about the fact that we’re going to have new nieces and nephews?”
I try to draw in and release a deep breath to get my heart to stop racing and that vise that’s tightened around my chest for the last several hours to loosen, but it doesn’t.
Astrid reads my continued distress easily. “You didn’t fail.”
It doesn’t matter how many times she says those words to me, it isn’t going to make them feel any truer. Especially now that there’s another reason to be alarmed when it comes to Satriano beyond the fact that one of his henchmen is now in the city—his daughter is pregnant with a Hawke.
“I have to go.”
Her eyes widen. “Where?”
“Back to the club.”
“Why?”
Everyone will be celebrating.
As soon as Isaac and Coen head to the waiting area and make the announcement, the Hawke clan will switch over from terrified to ecstatic.
But not me.
The memory of a mop of sandy-blond hair and a man in a leather jacket leaving the club immediately after Allegra got sick flashes through my head, as does Isaac’s warning about Michael McDonald arriving in New Orleans.
No such thing as coincidence.
“There was a guy there tonight, before Allegra got sick.”
“Yeah?” Astrid’s brow furrows. “What about him?”
“He…” I struggle with how to explain to her the feeling I got when I saw him, but words seem to fail me. “I don’t know, there was just something off about him.”
Her eyes darken with concern. “Did you stop him?”
I shake my head. “I had to call Dad, let him know what was going on with Allegra and Jack. The guy slipped out before I could grab him to question him.”
“So, why are you going back now if he isn’t there anymore?”
“To scour the video footage to try to figure out who he is and why the fuck he was there in the first place.”
And why everything about him felt wrong.
* * *
TWO DAYS LATER
GAGE
Every club has an energy.
A vibe.
Something you feel the moment you step through the doors that makes your heart pump in time to the music blasting through the speakers and that gets fully absorbed into your bloodstream.
It engulfs you and draws you into a different world from the one outside the doors.
The Hawkeye Club is no different.
From the first moment that deep, rumbling bass vibrates through your feet and chest until the moment you walk out the door and it closes behind you, you’re enveloped by pure elegance.
A rich tapestry of color, light, texture, and sound that swallows you whole and wraps you in a silky sensual cocoon you don’t want to climb out of.
I’ve spent enough time in enough seedy clubs to know the difference between them and this.
What they’ve created at The Hawkeye Club is so unlike those other places that they aren’t even in the same category.
Beautiful surroundings.
Gorgeous women.
The kind of dancers who have talent and class, who don’t rely on shock value to make money off the patrons. They’re actually good. The best I’ve seen in New Orleans, or anywhere else that I’ve been over the last several years, for that matter.
And this place is locked down tight.
Security at the door, more near the stage, several big, muscular men who look like they could break most of the patrons in here in half like a twig roam around in civilian clothes that do little to conceal who they are or why they’re here.
They don’t take chances when it comes to their girls, and that’s something I can appreciate, even if it does make me a little uneasy as I walk in.
Most of them pay me no mind as I saunter through the main room and slide onto an empty stool near the far end of the bar, exactly where I was sitting only a few days ago when it all went down.
And when I saw her…
My eyes immediately scan the club, barely skimming over the redhead on the pole who has everyone else’s rapt attention.
She doesn’t hold mine.
Not because she isn’t beautiful or talented. She’s definitely both those things. But the woman I’m searching for won’t be on that stage tonight.
She’ll be watching from the wings, standing in the shadows, even though she’s far more stunning than any of the girls who get naked and perform.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the brief glimpse I got of her the other night during all the commotion—or hoping I’ll see her again.
But she isn’t here tonight.
Just a normal crowd enjoying the music, the show, and a drink. No stunning burnt-umber-skinned beauty watching intently from the wings…
Disappointment hits me squarely in the chest, but I push it away.
You don’t need the complication.
It’s a reminder I’ve told myself many times in my life—that getting involved with a woman for anything more than a quick release only leads to heartbreak and pain.
And for the most part, I’ve been able to keep things casual with my entanglements.
They never last long, and I make sure they end before something like feelings can get involved.
But something tells me that staying casual would be impossible given the way my body reacted to seeing her.
I’ve never believed in anything beyond lust at first sight.
There’s never been any reason to…
Yet, the moment I saw her racing into action when it was apparent someone was sick, it felt as if I’d been struck squarely in the chest by something far more powerful.
Something that drew me back here tonight when I should have stayed away.
The young bartender makes his way over to me and inclines his head. “Nice to see you again.”
He remembers me…
That could be a bad thing, or a good one. Friendly people have looser lips. That means I might learn a thing or two about the stunning woman who suddenly occupied all my thoughts over the past couple days.
I shift in my seat slightly, angling my body so I can see the club better—to watch for her. “Thanks.”
“What can I get for ya?”
“Whatever IPA you have on tap.”
He nods and offers a grin. “You got it.”
Without even thinking, I slide my hand into my right jacket pocket and close my fingers around the hard metal there, almost as if I need to feel it to ground myself tonight.
And honestly, maybe I do.
I need the reminder of who I am when things have felt off for a while now. It’s something I can’t put my finger on. An unsteadiness when I’m typically rock solid. Questions when there used to be none. And somehow, I thought coming here and drowning myself in hoppy beer was the answer.
Liar.
That’s not why you’re here.
That little voice inside my head better shut the fuck up, because I have absolutely no business being interested in that woman.
None.
Yet, my eyes keep sweeping the club for her as if seeing her again will somehow wipe away this feeling growing inside me.