Chapter 17
GAGE
I thought it couldn’t get any more tense than sitting around Nana’s dinner table last night with almost thirty Hawkes in attendance and all those intense, discerning eyes focused on me when she asked me that question.
But I was wrong.
This room is much, much worse.
Gabe sits on the edge of Savage’s desk, whispering with him while Saint, Stone, and Luca have their own private conversation near the windows.
Kennedy talks on her phone quietly in the far corner while Isaac and Coen sit on the couch, neither speaking, but the look of pure terror on Coen’s face says enough.
Bishop leans against the door jamb, where she’s remained ever since we came in this morning for the emergency meeting to discuss what happened last night and to work out a plan.
Well, they will.
My only plan is to keep my mouth shut, watch, and listen, to learn what I can without overstepping. It isn’t my place to interject myself into this situation unless my role on the security team calls for it.
Hopefully, that won’t be an issue, but everyone is tense. And the Hawkes tend to run hot—something I’ve observed many times in the last several weeks.
I catch Bishop’s eyes drifting over to me every few moments, but I do my best to keep my focus on the other people in the room who control the Hawke empire.
Her, I understand. The rest of them are still mostly a mystery to me, and the more time I have to observe them, the more I can learn about how they got here, how they maintain their control over so many businesses, how they’ve managed to become so powerful and influential and how they—for all intents and purposes—run New Orleans.
And today, I’ll find out how they respond to something like what went down last night.
After spending hours post-dinner with Gabe, Saint, Luca, and Bishop scouring every inch of the interior and exterior of The Grind, we weren’t able to find anything that looked out of place or that suggested anyone planted something on the premises.
That should have been a massive relief to everyone.
But somehow, it wasn’t.
Bishop didn’t sleep at all once we got back to my place, instead spending the vast majority of the night pacing or reviewing surveillance camera footage we had already watched dozens of times, hoping to spot something that could help us identify who it was on the video.
I can see the exhaustion written all over her face this morning, but she also has that look that tells me if I mention it, there will be hell to pay.
All I can do is sit here and wait for the private conversations happening in this room to lead somewhere because right now, I don’t have a fucking clue what the next move should be.
For them, or for me.
Finally, Gabe rises to his full height and scans the room. Everyone seems to sense the shift in the energy as his shoulders tense. Whatever he’s about to say, he knows it might not be received well. He glances at Savage before releasing a heavy sigh. “We’ve decided to call Satriano.”
Kennedy lowers her phone from her ear and gapes at him, whoever she was speaking with forgotten. “What?”
Bishop pushes off the wall. “Why the hell would you do that?”
Gabe tosses her a look that tells her to stop questioning their decisions. “Because after reviewing that security footage last night, we know someone was snooping around. It’s either his men, or whoever the fuck shot one of them, don’t you think?”
She purses her lips together and crosses her arms over her chest defiantly, but she doesn’t have any room to debate that with him.
Those are the only two options that make sense.
Either Satriano sent one of his men to scope out The Grind for future action, or someone else did, potentially hoping to catch Satriano there again in the future to take him out.
It was the first place he appeared after arriving in town, and since he’s notoriously hard to locate, it may be an opportunity one of his enemies doesn’t want to miss.
No one looks particularly thrilled with the idea of calling him, though.
“We need information.” Savage keeps his voice level, trying to regain control over the rising tempers in the room. “The only way to get it is to actually talk to the man.”
Isaac shakes his head. “I don’t like it, either. Calling him and acknowledging his presence and that we need something from him never ends well.”
Coen nods, running a hand through his hair. “I agree. I don’t think going to him will help. If anything, it gives him more power over us.”
Savage spreads his hands flat across the top of his desk.
“We’re not going to be sitting ducks anymore.
Everyone will keep working behind the scenes, but we have to open up a dialogue if we hope to get any information that we haven’t been able to find on our own.
And as we’ve said previously, he now has a reason to want to come to some sort of peace with us that he didn’t before. ”
He glances to Coen.
A growl slips from Coen’s lips, his hands fisting as he shifts forward on the couch. “You’re not using my baby as a fucking bargaining chip.”
His uncle appears unmoved by his distress.
“You know how important family is to us, Coen, and we all know how important it is to him, too. It isn’t that we’re using my future grandniece or nephew as a bargaining chip, it’s more like we’re reminding the man of what’s at stake if he doesn’t either back off or help us figure out what’s going on. ”
Stone nods from where he stands beside his boys.
“I’m sorry, son, but I agree. We have to make the call.
If he understands that an assault on us puts Allegra and the baby in danger, it could play very favorably for getting his agreement to something reasonable.
” He glances to Luca. “Unless you think differently.”
Luca remains stoic, but I can see the wheels turning in his head.
The former mob boss, more than anyone in this room, would know how Satriano thinks, how he works, the type of things he might be planning.
He’s the Hawkes’ single best resource.
“I don’t think there’s any harm in contacting him. He’s already shown up at The Grind, already made his presence known very intentionally. He did that for a reason, when he could have easily snuck back into town and remained in hiding.”
Saint scans the room. “Who should make the call?”
Savage pulls out his phone. “I will. And I’ll do the talking.”
Everyone nods their agreement, no one willing to question his authority here as he dials the number.
Bishop circles back to her place on the wall near the door, looking as tense as I’ve ever seen her, and when her eyes cut over to me, I mouth “relax” to her.
All that does is earn me an annoyed scowl from her.
And maybe I shouldn’t be doing anything that might antagonize her when she could get me thrown out of this room.
The fact that they even let me in here for this phone call says how much headway I’ve made in earning their trust.
They want my input. Maybe not on strategy, but at the very least, on the security issues. And something tells me there will only be more of them as we move forward.
Everyone seems to hold their collective breaths.
It only rings twice before Satriano answers. “Savage Hawke. Did you call to welcome me home?”
Savage glares at the phone, as if Satriano can somehow feel his animosity if he tries hard enough to project it. “Something like that. I’m calling because there was an incident at The Grind last night.”
“Oh no. Is everyone all right?”
In the slightly accented English, the man’s concern almost sounds genuine.
Almost.
“Thankfully, yes. No one was injured. But we have video of someone skulking around the building checking doors and otherwise behaving suspiciously. The security cameras there and around other buildings caught most of it. We weren’t able to get an image of the person’s face, though.
I was hoping you might have some information for us about this. ”
A momentary pause through the line has everyone leaning forward slightly, anticipating what he will say. “Why would I know anything about it?”
Savage somehow maintains his composure despite Satriano’s faux innocent game. “Perhaps it was one of your men. You were just there recently…”
Satriano issues a low, dark chuckle. “I was there for my cappuccino. And to say hello to my favorite family. The last thing I would want to do is cause harm to you or anyone there. Where would I get my morning coffee now that I’m back in town?”
“I don’t care where the fuck you get it, just get it somewhere else.” Apparently Savage is done playing nice. His normally warm blue eyes have gone icy cold. “Are you saying it wasn’t your men?”
“That is what I’m saying, Mr. Hawke.”
“Then who the hell was it?”
Savage exchanges a confused look with everyone in the room as we all wait for Satriano’s response.
“I don’t know why you think I would know that.”
“Maybe because one of your men just got shot, and Pope had to save his life at the clinic? Your men ending up with bullet holes typically means you’re stirring up shit again, and I don’t know how or why we would be pulled into that, but I have to ask if this is at all connected.”
Satriano releases a long sigh. “My return to New Orleans does not come without complications.”
That makes everyone sit up straighter and those standing inch closer to the phone laid out on the desk.
Complications.
Something tells me that word from a man like Damiano Satriano means something completely different than it does to the rest of us.
Savage clenches one fist on the desk. “What sort of complications?”
“Ones that shouldn’t and don’t concern the Hawkes.”
Coen pushes up from his seat, and Stone reaches out to try to grab his arm but can’t get to him fast enough before his son slams his palms on the desk across from Savage, leaning over the phone. “Anything that concerns you concerns the fucking Hawkes now, Satriano.”
“Oh, is that Coen?”
Shit.
Everyone in the room tenses.