Hawk

by Tiya Rayne

  I don’t reply. Is he right? Do I already know the truth to that question but refuse to see it?

  Walker said that Priest and Albany were never sexual. Psycho from the alley never mentioned sex with Albany. He only wanted a belly rub. It’s hard to believe that my sister could spend her time with a man like Walker and not have sex with him.

  “What I was saying is,” he says breaking into my thoughts. “The Church is very selective, even when they’re choosing women for us. Your sister had a gift, as you said she was good at reading people. She read mannerisms, quirks, and even appearances.

  “What you didn’t realize is that she would then translate what she read about you into the perfect mate. Though she was a favorite to many of us in the organization, she was different to us all. No persona was ever alike.” He takes another pause giving me time to digest that.

  When we were twelve, I happened to come across our case files. Okay, I snuck and read them off my social worker’s computer. I was doing one of my paintings of her and realized that certain number keys on her laptop were worn down.

  It took me only two tries to get the right number order. I had hoped that by breaking in and reading the files, it would shine a little light on our mother and help me figure out where we came from. What I found was nothing about my mother, but a psych evolution on us.

  Mine was pages and pages of the shit I had pulled. They said that I showed obvious signs of abandonment issues. I was angry and temperamental. I had issues with authority and following rules. None of that was news to me.

  However, when I looked at Albany’s file, it read like a recommendation letter. All it talked about was how smart and mild tempered she was. Only one report read differently.

  I don’t know who wrote the report, but it said she wasn’t what she seemed. I ignored the evaluation. My sister was perfect.

  What if that’s what she wanted us to think? I whooped a girl’s ass in seventh grade for calling my sister a name. That day, I distinctly remember the girl telling me, “Albany isn’t who people think she is.” What if that twelve-year-old girl was right?

  “What was she like to you?” I ask the question hesitantly. I’m not sure if I want to know what type of woman Walker prefers.

  I’m loud, snarky, outspoken, sometimes mean. I’m not delicate or demure. I’d much rather wear a T-shirt and jeans than a dress. I imagine I’m a far cry from his type of woman. He turns again and glances at me over his shoulder before turning back.

  “She was everything I ever wanted. She was perfect. So perfect that I fell in love with her persona.”

  “So, you do admit to loving my sister?”

  He gives a laugh and shakes his head. “No, I was in love with Red. Red wasn’t real, or so I thought.” The last part is whispered in a way that I know isn’t meant for my ears.

  My intention is to ask him what he means, but one of the waitresses comes to our table with a bucket of ice and a champagne bottle along with a glass. She places the bucket on the table and then a napkin before placing a champagne glass down.

  “Excuse me, I didn’t order a drink.”

  I don’t drink. Never have. When you had the childhood that I had, even the smell of it makes you sick.

  The pretty waitress smiles as she uses the cork opener to open the bottle. “I know. The man at the table over there ordered it for you.”

  Both Walker and I turn our heads to the man in question. Damn. He’s fine. Deep set eyes, a strong jawbone, and lips so sexy I want to suck them into my mouth. And the most gorgeous, flawless brown skin I have ever seen.

  The added bonus is, of course, the heat in his eyes when he looks over to me. I don’t usually wear dresses, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to pull one off. My sister picked out the perfect dress to show off my curvy body.

  I went with light makeup, a little cat eye, mascara, and a nude lip. My dress is so damn bright, I didn’t want to add any more color. My deep red, thick curls are pinned back on one side. Despite the dress, my makeup and hair make me look modest. It makes the way my admirer looks at me feel a little more genuine.

  “Oh, um, tell him thank you,” I say to the waitress after she pours me a glass. She walks away heading to my admirer’s table. I watch as she delivers my message, he turns to me and smiles, then lifts his tumbler with dark brown liquid in it and nods to me.

  I think he wants me to lift my glass. I pick up my fizzy drink and raise it. He smiles and then takes a sip of his. I place mine to my lips and take a sip. Yep, still not a fan of alcohol.

  “God, I hate this stuff,” I say to Walker as I place the glass back down.

  “Then don’t drink it.”

  “He sent it over. It’ll be rude if I don’t and the brother is fine.”

  Walker turns to glare at me over his shoulder.

  I shrug. “What? He is. And don’t forget you are the one that pointed out I don’t have a boyfriend.” I look back over to my sexy, chocolate admirer and he stands to his feet and starts toward me.

  “Oh shit. He’s coming over here. Quick, how do my boobs look?” I readjust the ladies in my dress, making sure they are sitting up perky and not falling out this deep V.

  “They look off limits.”

  His quip causes me to look up at him. His back is still to me. “Why, Kilian Walker, are you trying to cock-block?” He moves to the other side of my booth, making sure he’s close to me, but not standing with his back to me.

  “Trust me, Brooklyn Walker, if he so much as touches you, he won’t have a cock for me to block.” He gives me a wink before he turns his attention back to his surroundings.

  Clearly, I have been around crazy people too much lately because that shit turns me on.

  “Hello, beautiful.” The man’s voice is so low and husky, it sounds as if it vibrates his chest before it comes out. He sounds like that man that does the Allstate insurance commercials. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  I smile and try to remember that I’m supposed to be playing a part. The moment I open my mouth, Walker speaks up.

  “What the fuck do you want, Scout?”

  Wait, they know each other. The man named Scout smiles widely at Walker, showing off perfect white teeth. “I came over to say hello. No need to get all up in your feelings.”

  He unbuttons the single button on his nice tailored dark suit. He looks different in his than Walker does. Both men look mouthwatering and would have any sane woman damn near humping their legs.

  However, where Walker is tall and lean with a runner’s build, this man fills out his suit like a man that knows hard labor. Underneath, his body is built like the Winter Soldier.

  Scouts sits down beside me, but I don’t scoot away like I think he wants. I have a feeling he’s trying to make me uncomfortable. He looks down at me with hunger in his eyes as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

  “They said you killed Desiree?” His question, I assume, is directed at Walker, but his eyes are on me.

  “He didn’t kill my sister,” I answer in reply for him.

  Scout’s eyes widen, and then that sly smile spreads over his face.

  “He knows that,” Walker says. “He’s trying to see if you knew.”

  Scout laughs. This time I stop to look at the man beside me. He’s still attractive.

  That beautiful skin looks edible, it’s such a creamy chocolate. The slight facial hair that covers his jaw and chin is neat and adds to his good looks. I notice that he has that slight craziness in his eyes.

  The sign of being in the Church. They all have it. The look that suggests they’ve seen and done some shit in their lives.

  There is something about this… it takes me a while to pinpoint the exact name for the look. Before I met Priest or Psycho from the alley I had faced off with some true demons. Boys and men that prey on small girls.

  All the guys I’ve met so far from the Church have scary eyes. However, even though Seth—who by far has the scariest eyes I’ve ever seen yet—none of them
have the eyes of a true monster. The Church may not be good, but they aren’t monsters.

  “Where are my manners?” Scout says. He holds out his hand for me to shake. “The name is Cameron Jones. And you are?”

  I place my hand in his. “Brooklyn, Brooklyn Creedmoor.”

  He lifts my hand toward his lips, but before he can plant a kiss on it, my hand is ripped out of his grasp by an angry Walker.

  “Don’t touch her,” he warns before releasing my hand.

  Scout laughs and leans back in his seat. I try to make eye contact with Walker. I want him to read the annoyance in my eyes, but he goes back to his position without looking at me.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Scout says. “I don’t blame him for being protective. You’re as gorgeous as your sister.”

  “You knew my sister?” This isn’t a shock to me. Walker already explained that she was a favorite amongst the Church. I say this to segue into finding out more about her.

  “Yes. Desiree was wonderful.” His voice softens when he says this. “She was an elegant and cultured woman. Her taste in art was impeccable.”

  At this, I quirk my brow. Albany didn’t know shit about art. When I started talking about abstract, expressionism, or cityscape she would grow cross-eyed with boredom.

  Scout laughs. “I’m guessing this is news to you?”

  “I’m finding out a lot of new information about my sister.”

  “I see, well, what brings you two to the club tonight?”

  “We got an invite,” I say, glancing at the bracelet on his wrist. “What about you?”

  That smile reaches a little higher. “I’m working.” He glances up at Walker before turning back to me. “Are you looking for something in particular at the auction?”

  I have no idea what they’re auctioning off. From the amount of money I have on my account and by looking at the people in this room, I can easily say it isn’t a gift basket.

  “No,” Walker replies. “We’re following leads.” I notice Walker was a bit curt with Scout, even before he tried to kiss my hand. Which isn’t like I’ve seen him with his brothers.

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  This time Walker turns all the way around, his back to the room. He looks down at Scout. “Why are you here?” There is a beat of silence that passes between them. A moment so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife.

  Finally, Scout replies. “She meant a lot to all of us,” he says turning back to me. “I had to see if she was anything like her.”

  Not this shit again. Even if my sister wasn’t the actress that she was for these people, she and I still would be nothing alike.

  “She isn’t,” Walker replies. “And even if she was…” He leaves that last part blank. I hoped that he would finish it.

  Scout nods his head and stands to his feet. He buttons his suit jacket.

  “It was nice meeting you, beautiful.” He then turns to Walker. “I’ll stick around, in case you need me tonight.” Walker nods but doesn’t reply. Scout walks off leaving me alone.

  “Let me guess, you two have bad blood.”

  Walker cuts his eyes at me and smiles before turning back to the room. “What makes you think that?”

  “Oh, come on, Walker. Even a blind man could see you don’t like him.”

  This time Walker tosses his head back and laughs.

  Twenty minutes later, my bracelet starts to vibrate. Sure, enough it’s midnight on the dot.

  “I guess it’s time.” Walker takes my hand and helps me to my feet. As usual, he doesn’t let go.

  “The auction must be on a different floor,” I say out loud as I watch everyone head to the elevator.

  “Lead the way,” he whispers into my ear as he allows me to walk in front of him.

  We catch the elevator with a group of other people. Scout slips in and joins us as well. No one speaks as we ride down to this auction. When we finally get to the bottom and the doors open, we file out.

  “Sit in the back, don’t speak to anyone, and whatever you do, don’t walk away from Walker.” Those words are whispered right by my ear. That deep rumbling voice tickles my chest.

  I turn to Scout and look up into those dark eyes. “Why are you helping us?” It wasn’t only Walker that had all the hostility earlier. This guy definitely had issues with Walker as well.

  He smiles. “I’m not. I’m helping her.” I know exactly the her he’s talking about. He places a quick kiss on my cheek then walks off to the front of the room.

  Walker walks up behind me. “When we get back to the hotel, we will have a talk about why men are not allowed to touch you,” he growls the words in my ear as he leads me away from the elevator. He then demands, “Find a seat.”

  I sit toward the back at one of the empty round tables. There aren’t many of us here. They have us seated at tables as if they will be serving food. However, the only thing in front of me is a tablet. In the middle of the table is a black orb that looks like someone glued a magic eight ball down. Once I sit, Walker walks away from me.

  “Where are you going?”

  He turns to me. “Never too far. Relax, beautiful,” he says the last part mockingly before turning to stand a few paces behind me against the wall.

  He’s in the perfect spot to watch the entire room. I snicker to myself at his little dig. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he’s jealous.

  “Now what makes a beauty like you smile?” The voice isn’t nearly as seductive as Scout’s. When I turn to catch sight of the person it belongs to, he isn’t anywhere near as attractive as him either.

  Cold blue eyes stare back at me in an average face. His looks are basic. There isn’t one feature that makes him stand out in any way.

  “Tell me, what makes you happy?” he purrs seductively.

  Is this guy serious? Is this what pick-up lines have been reduced too? “Being left alone,” I reply in response to his question.

  His eyes narrow before a smile touches his thin lips. “I’ve never seen you at one of these auctions before. If you would like I can give you a few pointers.”

  He runs his fat pink tongue over his thin lips as if in some type of slow seduction. I’m pretty sure when Scout told me not to talk to anyone, this is what he was talking about.

  “I’ll pass, now if you will excuse me.”

  “Come on, now, with a dress like that, I’m sure you’re dying to be friendly with someone. Don’t you want to spend some time with me?”

  I don’t like this guy. I’ve come to that conclusion. I’ve met a few different types of assholes in my life, but none I’ve met has ever topped the average looking rich ones. Those motherfuckers think they run the world.

  “I’m giving you five seconds to get the fuck away from my table.” I lean my elbow on the table. “Or this six-inch heel on my foot will end up in your asshole.”

  He sneers at me. All that smug smiling disappears. “You listen to me, you bitch—” I don’t let him finish his sentence. I grab the back of his head and slam him face first into the table. I can hear the bone crack and the sound of his whimper.

  One of the asshole’s bodyguards walks up to the table and draws a gun. Walker appears out of nowhere. The guard turns and aims the gun at him, he knocks it away and rams his palm into the gunman’s throat.

  When the gunman bends at the waist, Walker lifts his knee, ramming it into the man’s face. He then yanks the gun out of the guy’s hand before he falls to the ground.

  That’s my fucking bodyguard. Again, the whole thing lasts less than a minute. I turn back to the asshole who I still have pinned to the table

  “Apologize,” I demand of the asshole.

  “What the fuck? You can’t—” Walker steps up and presses the gun in his hand to the man’s head.

  “Apologize,” I say again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please.”

  I release the asshole and Walker steps away from him. The man stands to his feet and backs away from me
like he’s the victim in all of this. His guard stumbles to his feet and follows him.

  “That was sexy,” Walker says, placing the gun into his waistband.

  I shrug. “I don’t like being called a bitch.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He winks and heads back to his spot by the wall.

  Wait a minute. I do believe Kilian Walker is flirting with me. And hold up, I believe I’m liking it.

  The flutters in my stomach challenge me, screaming you more than like it. Let’s be honest, there’s no future for me and Walker. I teach art and he disarmed someone with one hand. We’re probably the most incompatible two people in the world.

  Yet, I haven’t met a man in years that makes the flutter in my belly dance like he does. Those dry horrible jokes Albany used to repeat to me have always made me laugh, but hearing it in person is so fucking sexy. And even though I expected the touching, I never thought I’d crave it.

  I’ve spent so much of our time together trying not to feel what I feel for him. But what if? Nope, no you’re not, Brooklyn. I don’t care if it’s been a long time since I got some dick, I’m not going there. Thankfully the man at the front of the room calls awareness to himself.

  “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to another meeting of the Royal thorns.” A few murmurs of good evening float around the room before the emcee gathers attention again.

  “There are only five items up for auction tonight, but, as always, they are good ones. I’d like to start off with Exhibit A.” The tablet in front of me comes to life and the magic eight ball starts to glow. “The non-traceable R300 rifle,” the emcee says, and an image of a weird looking gun appears in hologram at the center of the table.

  My tablet starts showing me detailed views of the weapon in front of me.

  “This gun is in the rifle family. Made of a metal replica that is untraceable by all standard metal detectors. It’s lightweight and easy to break down and assemble, making it great for travel and concealing.” The hologram shows the gun disassembled in four easy steps and then reassembled again. “Capable of multiple rapid fires without kickback.”

  What the hell kind of auction is this? Who needs a gun like this? Apparently a lot of people.