Hawk

by Tiya Rayne

  One by one, they fall to the ground. The entire time, not one of them gets a shot off or knows what direction to shoot. When the last guy falls, leaving myself and the one holding me alive, dim lights fill the room, and Walker drops down from the ceiling.

  The guy holding me lifts up a gun and points it at Walker. Before he can fire it off, Walker shoots him in the shoulder. The man releases the gun and me. I quickly step away from him.

  Walker approaches us and kicks the fallen gun from the man’s reach. He holds out a hand toward me and I grab it. He wraps his fingers around my hand and pulls me into his side. I go willingly, burying my head in his shoulder.

  “Are you hurt?” he asks.

  I shake my head. The man on the floor grunts a few curse words as he holds his shoulder.

  “Shut up,” Walker demands. “Who sent you?”

  The man before us grits his teeth. He straightens his back as he glares at Walker. “You might as well kill me, I’ll never—” The shot to his head cuts him off.

  I lift my head from Walker’s shoulder. “Why did you kill him? He might’ve told us something.”

  “He wasn’t. He’s military, he’s trained to not talk. Besides, he touched you. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “It’s only my bottom lip. I split it on my teeth.” He runs his thumb over my sore lip. I hiss when he touches the spot.

  “You need ice.” He heads toward the kitchen, my hand wrapped in his.

  “What are we going to do about the bodies?” I ask right as I trip over one of the dead men. He catches me before I fall.

  “Lights up,” he says to the dimly lit room before the lights brighten.

  It’s especially bright now that I’ve been in darkness for so long. He continues to direct me to the kitchen where he goes to the fridge.

  “You were getting water.” He doesn’t seem to be asking a question. More like stating facts to put the pieces together.

  “Yeah.” It’s then that I remember the water I spilled. “I’ll clean that up.”

  He stops me with a quirk of his brow. I know it seems like an odd offer considering everything else, but my heart rate is still up and my mind is still trying to wrap itself around the fact that I survived a gunfight. Cleaning up water seems like the easiest thing for me to do.

  “I got it.” He gives a short laugh.

  I don’t argue. He opens the fridge and grabs an ice pack out, then wraps it in a dishtowel before handing it to me. I take it and place it on my lip. It isn’t until he winces as he squats down to use another towel to clean the water up that I notice the blood on his shoulder.

  “Oh my god, you’re bleeding.”

  He seems to look at the wound as if he forgot about it. He shrugs.

  “It’s a graze. It barely broke the skin.”

  I stand there like I’m talking to a crazy person. In all honestly, I think I am. He’s talking about a gunshot wound like he scraped his knee at the playground. He stands to his feet and tosses the wet towel onto the counter before placing the water bottle down beside it.

  “We should get you to the hospital.”

  A cunning smile crosses his face. “Are you worried about me?”

  He takes a step toward me, bringing his towering height an inch closer. For the first time, I remember I’m in his T-shirt with nothing but my panties beneath. I feel flushed and naked. I shake the feeling off.

  “Not really, it’s just if you die, I won’t be able to solve my sister’s murder.”

  That sounds believable, right? He doesn’t move. Only stands there for a second. Those penetrating eyes narrowing in on me. Then, he frees me from his stare. Taking a step back.

  “Put on clothes. We have company.” The moment the announcement is out of his mouth, I notice the sound of the elevator rising.

  ***

  When I come back downstairs, I’m wearing black yoga tights and an old Aerosmith T-shirt. It’s the only outfit I brought with me for this little excursion.

  I stood under the hot shower for twenty minutes, trying to wash away the events of tonight. Dead bodies lined the downstairs floor and the bedroom. Walker made a mess of the men that came into his home.

  Yet, I’m still lacking that fear of him. I had to step over dead bodies with my eyes closed, but the first person I search for as soon as I hit the top of the stairs is him.

  Those eyes follow me all the way to the bottom of the iron stairs. Apparently, while I was showering the cleanup crew was busy. You wouldn’t even be able to tell that anything happened in this place tonight.

  “I hadn’t planned on seeing you again tonight,” Priest says as he walks into the apartment the same way he walked into mine, unannounced and like he owns it. Although it’s 4:00 in the morning and a total of eight hours since the last time I saw him, he’s yet again, wearing his black suit.

  “About time you got here,” Walker states.

  Priest doesn’t acknowledge the barb. “I had to give Doc here time to baby you up. Didn’t want to hear you bitching over a simple injury.”

  Doc, I’m assuming, is the older, short and nearly bald man working on a shirtless Walker. My mouth hangs open when I catch sight of Walker’s body. He isn’t overly chiseled, but his body is immaculate, lean and cut.

  But it isn’t only his body shape that makes me stare. It’s the many scars that cover his chest, shoulder, and abs. Even the new stitches going in the top of his shoulder seems to weave into all the old wounds. Doc steps back and reaches into his bag for a white bandage to tape Walker’s shoulder.

  “You’ve been on the job for less than eight hours, Hawk, and already you’ve had reservations twice.”

  “It isn’t my fault,” Walker says, answering Priest without taking his eyes off me.

  As soon as Doc steps back, Walker stands to his feet and holds out a hand for me. Albany said he was big on touching, but I didn’t know it was this serious. He’s always reaching out to grab my hand and I go without hesitation. I’m finding I do that a lot. Which is so unlike me, but let’s be honest, I’ve been doing out of character stuff since I met him.

  The clean-up crew takes the last body out of the place, stuffed inside a black barrel. I don’t even want to know what’s inside those things that’s causing it to make that sloshing sound when it’s moved. Priest stands in the middle of the room, glaring at me before turning back to Walker. I have this feeling he doesn’t like me and frankly I don’t care.

  “Did they tell you anything?”

  “The person that had Red killed is high profile. Probably even a government official. The kill job didn’t go as smoothly as they had planned. There’s evidence to that somewhere and they believe that Brooklyn is the key to it.”

  I spin my head toward Walker. Those guys didn’t say anything? How the hell did he get all that information? Did he question someone while I was in the shower?

  Priest laughs. “She wants to know how you got all that information,” he says reading my mind. My gaze turns back to him. “In this line of work, you learn to read between the lines, Painter. Care to add anything to it?”

  I hate the way he calls me painter. I know it’s because I’m an artist, but I feel like when he uses it, he’s mocking me.

  “Not really.”

  Priest smiles in that scary way, like a wild animal. “Give it a try. Paint us a picture.” A shiver runs down my spine. I can’t exactly pinpoint why, but something rubs me wrong with what he says.

  However, instead of arguing with him, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. My canvas comes up automatically, my brush strokes are quick and urgent as they paint the picture of today’s events. Looking at it on my canvas, everything Walker said makes sense.

  The way the soldiers moved led me to believe they were experts at what they did. This wasn’t regular military. In order to get soldiers like that you have to have some pull in the government.

  In addition, they seemed hell bent on taking me and killing Walker. Which proves they believe I have some e
vidence. Something else jumps out at me. The way they spoke and reacted to Walker points something out.

  “They don’t know about your involvement in the Church,” I say the words after I open my eyes. “Could there be two different people after us?”

  All three men in the room turn to look at each other. A silent conversation goes through their glances, one I can’t decipher.

  “What’s your next move?” Priest finally says, directing his question to Walker.

  “I’m following the breadcrumbs,” he states not giving much away.

  Priest nods. “Sounds smart, but be careful. If there are two separate enemies that means you have to be extra cautious. Heads up, they’re talking about releasing the Beast from slumber in a few weeks. This is the perfect opportunity for those certain members to disrupt the bond.” Walker’s body tightens beside me as he pulls me closer to him.

  “You think they would do that? You think Pope would allow them to put my brother against me?”

  Priest shrugs. “Some members have had a stick up their ass about my crew since I brought you in. And you know Pope wants that connection with Beast. If he thinks he can get it by doing this, he will.”

  “He doesn’t want the connection. He wants to control Beast. Like all the others,” Walker says on a growl.

  “Yeah, I know,” Priest agrees, he then turns to the quiet old man. “All right, Doc, you ready?” The man nods, closing his black bag and walking toward Priest. “Y’all have fun now.” Priest winks at us before he disappears into the elevator, taking that heavy pressing energy with him.

  I exhale as soon as I hear the elevator descend.

  “Who is this Beast guy he mentioned, and how are you related to him?” I ask the question as Walker releases my hand and tugs on his shirt.

  “When Priest brought me into the organization, he also brought five others. We grew up together. We’re like brothers. And Beast, well let’s just say, pray you never end up on his menu.”

  At this point, I didn’t want to end up on any of their menus.

  “Do you still have the things I gave you?” I nod absently but murmur yes as I sense he wants a verbal confirmation. “Your job is to keep up with those things at all times. No matter what, I need you to keep them with you.”

  “Okay.” That’s simple. The key is still around my neck and I can easily hide the book and flash drive.

  “We can’t stay here anymore.” He nods toward the stairs. “Grab your things quickly and meet me back here when you’re done.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask, remaining in my spot.

  “First, we’re going to see what that flash drive will tell us and then we will check that black book.”

  “I’ve already checked the book. There’s nothing in there but addresses.”

  “That’s it?” He seems as confused as me. “What addresses?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of any of them.”

  He seems to think this over for only a second before replying, “Get your stuff.”

  Chapter 8

  I Know You

  Brooklyn

  I meet Walker back downstairs and we take the elevator back down to the abandoned storefront. Instead of walking out of the building, he goes to the old freezer.

  “What are you doing?”

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he removes a panel on the wall and punches in a key code. The freezer door opens, and I notice that the glass isn’t actually see-through.

  It’s only painted to look like an empty freezer. When the doors open, he walks into a large room that has my mouth dropping open. I’m almost a hundred percent sure I’m inside a movie script.

  Walls and walls of weapons in all sizes, shapes, and colors. It’s like one of those billionaire heiresses’ closets, but instead of expensive clothing and shoes, it’s all weapons. Some I’ve seen on TV and some I couldn’t begin to explain.

  He goes to a shelf and takes down a few smaller guns. Lifting them in his hands and aiming them before placing them in a black duffle bag. He does this repeatedly, picking them up one by one and even stuffs some crazy looking knives in the bag and one inside his coat.

  With his back to me, he asks, “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  “Do you really need to ask that question?” I reply fingering a black shiny handgun.

  “It’s simple,” he says, coming to stand beside me. He picks up the black gun I’d been admiring. “This is a 9mm.” He ejects the bottom of the gun, shows me the bullets inside, and then stuffs it back inside giving it a tap. “Take it off safety, release the slide, and pull the trigger. It’s that simple.”

  I stare at him, wondering who the hell he thinks is going to fire that thing. I’m not averse to violence, but I’d much prefer to win my battles with my fist, or a blunt object.

  “I think I’ll leave the shooting to you.”

  He smiles and shrugs. “We’ll see.” He places the gun in the duffle bag along with a few more things. “All right, let’s go.”

  He grabs my hand and leads me back out of the gunroom. Making sure to close the freezer doors, he keys in the code again. When we finally make it outside, the sun is up. It’s a little past 7:00 a.m.

  “We have a few hours before the library opens. Let’s grab some breakfast,” he says, tugging my hand and taking off at his normal fast pace.

  I’m definitely getting a workout in with all this damn walking. Traffic is shit in New York, but I assume Walker has to own a car. With as much as that loft must cost, surely he can afford a car. Trust me, if I could afford one, I’d have one.

  We walk only a few blocks before arriving at a small diner. We take a seat and the waitress gets to our table quickly. I watch as our tall ebony skinned waitress flirts with Walker right in my face.

  If she tosses that lace front over her shoulder one more time, it’s going to go flying across this damn diner. I wait patiently and watch to see his reaction to her. He and I aren’t together in any shape or form, but damn somebody should acknowledge the fact that I’m sitting here.

  When lace front Naomi finally turns to ask my order, I make sure I deliver it with a little attitude. “I’ll have coffee and the hungry man’s meal,” I snap. “I take it with bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.”

  It’s the principle. Had he really been my man, I’d be kicked out of this place by now and he’d be walking home alone. He smiles as he tells her he’ll have the same.

  “Okay, I’ll be back with both your orders, honey.” She turns back to Walker with a big smile, blinking her long lashes at him. My stomach does that twisting thing. When she walks off, I glare at her back. I shouldn’t be so worked up, but fuck it, I am.

  His chuckle draws my attention to his smirking face. “Why are you so angry?” he asks and purses his lips.

  “Oh, don’t give me that shit. She was flirting with you.”

  His brows shoot up to his hairline and that smile spreads further over his face. “You’re jealous?”

  I scoff. “No. We aren’t a couple, but she didn’t know that. And you sat there watching her drool all over you. Did you pull this shit with my sister?”

  Again, he doesn’t react to my taunt. Instead, he continues to watch me with that smirk. “After everything I told you about your sister, you actually believe I meant something to her?”

  He has a point, if you took in all the men that showed up at my sister’s funeral, she had a large clientele. However, I can’t get over the fact that she only talked about Walker. There had to be a reason for it.

  And if it was because she wanted me to trust him, it had to mean that she trusted him. Which I’m guessing meant they shared something special. I know that in order for Albany to trust someone, it has to be special. I’m the same way.

  “Look, I’m not saying you two were in a committed relationship, but there had to be something meaningful between you. Why else would she only mention you? And in return, you had to love her, because why would you, out of all the
men she was affiliated with, show up at my house?”

  He never seems to react. Even when you ask him a question, it’s like he stops to take in everything you’re saying. Not only the words but the way you say it. This is something Albany didn’t tell me about him.

  “Maybe,” he says leaning toward me. Those all-consuming eyes taking ahold of me. He licks his lips and I follow the path his tongue takes. “I was there because I’m in love with you.”

  His words take the breath from my lungs. I widen my eyes and drop my mouth open. He continues to stare at me, making me see the truth in his eyes.

  We’re suspended in time for a moment. Then I throw my head back and laugh so loud the entire diner turns to look at me. My laughter is contagious and causes him to laugh too.

  “I almost had you,” he says.

  “You’re full of shit,” I tease.

  The waitress brings our food. Still batting her lashes at Walker and slinging her hair around. When she walks away, he turns back to me.

  “How about, instead of asking me questions about my relationship with your sister, you get to know me?”

  I lift my brow. “Why?” I say around a mouth full of bacon.

  “Don’t you want to get to know me?”

  “Fuck no.”

  He chuckles and yeah, okay, it’s cute.

  “Walker,” I say when he stops laughing. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you come with a lot of baggage. I mean, I’ve been shot at and almost kidnapped fooling with you.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “Well, can I at least get to know you?”

  I sit back in my bench seat and pop my last piece of bacon in my mouth. “Depends, what do you want to know?”

  This brings a smile to his face. “When did you first start painting?”

  I blush when he asks about my painting. “So, you’re a fan of my artwork?”

  The corners of his lips lift up in a smirk. “Something like that.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t start painting until my early teens. I was always drawing, but it was my seventh grade art teacher that gave me my first paint supplies. She was the first person I met that actually gave a damn about me.”