Hawk

by Amber Malloy

  She remembered that overwhelming, desolate feeling that haunted her throughout her entire marriage. “Josh claimed working at home would be a peaceful environment where I could create in peace.” Lexi’s voice broke. “God, I was so stupid.”

  “Sorry… I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that stunt in Aspen he pulled was brutal, and if you need any help—”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she swatted away her concerns. “What happened to the article?”

  “My editors came across a few inconsistencies in Josh’s self-made story, not to mention they obtained a copy of your marriage license. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get anyone to confirm his bullshit. The story was put on the back burner.”

  “Ahh-h, the NDA. That thing has saved his ass in more ways than I can count.”

  An alarm went off, and Remy checked her watch before she grabbed her sweater. “If you need anything, just give me a call.”

  Out of habit, Lexi swiped at the hair she’d chopped off almost a year ago with a sigh.

  “Don’t forget that next week is girls’ night. We’re having it at Dahl’s restaurant.”

  “That’s right. I finally get to see inside of that place. I hear there’s a waiting list a mile-long?”

  “Luckily, you know the owners,” Remy replied with a smile, chucking deuces to her on the way out of the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The press had ripped their team apart in the media. Sadly, it had taken the Northern Royals to show their entire ass in front of the world for them to even remotely get along better. Factoring their seven-to-one stats, Hawk’s professional life was one hundred percent better. Unfortunately, his personal life did not want to flip onto the same page.

  Ever since Lexi’s sex tape had come to light, it banged around in his empty dome, causing havoc in his head. For all intents and purposes, he had a hard time with the thought of Lexi’s ex blackmailing her. He tried to identify the span of emotions that gripped his insides, but he’d failed every time he got close to naming them.

  Hatred, rage or jealousy would smack him in the face, depending on the time of day. He wasn’t positive where jealousy fit into all this. He was Hawthorne freaking Maze, Northern Royals enforcer. What the hell is this woman doing to me?

  “Aside from the full-on fiasco weeks ago, how are you guys doing?” In an odd attempt at a bro pep talk, the coach stood in front of him and Marco. Since the man was more of a bark orders, no cherry-on-top type of guy, Hawk took his question as rhetorical.

  Grunting out a reply, Hawk waited for him to get on with his awkward-ass talk. Weeks on the road with no break in sight made him cranky. They always had long stretches between Canada and the West Coast during late winter to early spring months. That amount of traveling wore him the hell out.

  “Fists flying is great for our brand—on ice, that is—but at a corporate event?” The gray-haired, burly dude paced the floor in front of them. Hawk had always compared his jacked-up energy to that of a caged panther. Either coach would break out of his barriers or die trying. After he’d had two heart attacks, Hawk figured the latter was on the horizon for the stressed-out former player.

  “Instead of beating the hell out of your teammates, how about you veterans have a night on the town?” He stopped in front of them.

  “Like a date?” Marco asked.

  Hawk snorted at his question.

  “What? No! I want you to—”

  “Court them, wine and dine them? I got to tell you, Coach. I’ve never been actually asked to do this before, but hey, I’m pretty much up for anything.”

  Hawk didn’t bother to hide his chuckle. Everyone knew Marco was bi-sexual. For the most part, nobody made a big deal out of it. Of course, the gossip from his previous team had turned into scandal, which had eventually morphed into a trade for Marco. The whole subject always seemed to make the coach a bit nervous.

  “No,” he sighed before spiking the tips of the plugs he had installed in his head last summer. “Go out and act like you guys are cool with each other for the tabloids.” The coach turned toward the door. “We got enough bad press.”

  As he hurried to leave the locker room, they burst into laughter. “Why do you needle the man?”

  “He’s worse than my dad with the shit, and I refuse to be the only one feeling weird by the sex talk,” Marco admitted.

  Hawk nodded his head in agreement, even though he didn’t know how it felt to have real-life parents.

  Marco stood up and crossed to the lockers in front of them. “If my personal business wasn’t leaked, I wouldn’t get those funky, judgy vibes from everyone fifty and up.”

  Marco had been unexpectedly outed in a threesome with his ex-model girlfriend and the coach of some rugby league. Before anything tangible could be put out for public consumption, he’d bailed on his southern-based team.

  “Got any idea what we should do with the kiddies?” Hawk asked. Sleeping was the only thing he’d planned to do. Sore and homesick, he no longer had it in him to hit the streets like he’d done earlier in his career.

  Not to mention that his phone calls with the sexy most successful woman had been stilted. If he mentioned the distance, she would push off his concerns, but he could feel the chill between them. Life on the road had always come with challenges, but if Hawk were in Chicago, he was positive he could fix this weird holding pattern they suddenly found themselves in.

  “One bar and that’s it. Those idiots get on my nerves.” Marco slammed his locker door shut with a bang. “And I don’t care who knows it.”

  Hawk had no desire to hang out with those dimwits, but he had to at least make it look good for the coach’s sake. The starters of the Northern Royals hit the overbearingly hot streets of Hollywood in search of forced fun.

  “How long do we have to pretend like you two old fuckers don’t suck?”

  The three goons laughed.

  Hawk glanced over at Marco, who raised his arms over his head to stretch. Marco’s goodwill toward the mediocre amigos probably wouldn’t last very much longer.

  “If you fools could shut up for five minutes or less, maybe we—” Marco bitched.

  The arguing began less than five minutes out of the Uber, an all-time record.

  As the kiddies fought, a mile-long line in front of a restaurant caught his attention. The hodgepodge crowd was made up of baby-boomers, all black-wearing techies and millennials. “Hey.” Hawk approached an older dude nearest the front of the line. “What’s going here?” He hitched his thumb at the trendy brick and ivy building.

  “Tech week is wrapping up. One of the major companies is throwing an after-party.”

  “Which one?” he asked.

  “SugarTech. The CEO is throwing it.”

  “Invitation only?”

  “Yeah, you have to get one of these.” The hip, old dude flashed his phone, showing him a special invite.

  “Thanks.” Hawk stepped away from them, then pulled his cell out of his jean pocket. He read the name of the restaurant over the awning and texted the only person with enough pull to get him into the joint, Dahl Baby Winston.

  “Guys.” Once he was done, he crossed back over to the chuckleheads arguing on the sidewalk. “Guys.”

  “Come on, Marco. You’re so uptight. What happened? Did you have a fight with your girlfriend?”

  “Or boyfriend?” They laughed.

  “Nah, it was your mom. We need you to move out of the house. You’re cramping our style.”

  “What did you say?” The youngest of the Swedish crew stepped forward. Hawk grabbed his shoulder and snatched him back.

  “Look, morons. We need to get into this restaurant, mingle or whatever you want to call it, then after that, we can go our separate ways.”

  The silly expression that generally occupied their young, dumb faces turned quizzical. “What’s in there?”

  “Mr. Maze?” Everyone turned toward the strawberry blonde with the walkie talkie.

  “Hello, beaut
iful,” Sven said. Unless he was looking to replace his fiancée, Brandi—which Hawk hoped like hell he did—the kid should probably keep the flirting down to a minimum.

  “Follow me, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The Swedes trailed behind the hostess with their tongues hanging out of their mouths.

  “That’s one way to get rid of them.” Marco snorted. They followed their teammates. Cutting the long line at the door, their group stepped into the restaurant.

  The ivy theme continued inside. Exposed brick mixed with the bright greenery intertwined with the wrought-iron trellises. If Lexi’s ex weren’t the sole reason for the visit, he would have appreciated the ambiance a hell of a lot more.

  The crowd instantly came off uncomfortably pretentious. Hawk hated bullshit scenes that required a fake smile and a nod. He avoided crap like this for a reason. Scanning the room, he found the tack in his shoe, Josh Stewart. The best description of Lexi’s ex he could think of was tantamount to a tiny, insignificant thing. If this were the ice-skating rink, he could body check his ass into the wall then punch him silly. However, this was a civilized meeting of intellectuals, so he would need to act like he had a little more sense than usual.

  Slipping his big body into the freshly empty space at the bar, he signaled for a drink while he waited for the large circle of fans that surrounded Josh to thin.

  “Busy night?” he asked the bartender, once she made her way to him.

  “Did these eggheads actually hire you guys to be warm-up? The tech crowd isn’t that fanatical, if you get my meaning.”

  Hawk smiled. It figured someone at the restaurant was a hockey fan.

  “Look, Missy”—he read the name off her tag—“you must have me confused with someone else. I just came here to check out the latest updates for my phone.”

  “After that amazing turnover to the Canadian Black Bears, I wouldn’t claim those yahoos either.” She nodded her head at his teammates, who were engaged in a serious game of shots across the room. He couldn’t leave them alone for five freaking minutes. “What can I get you?”

  “Lemonade iced tea, no sugar,” he grunted.

  She knocked on the wood in front of him and left him to grouse over the play that had nearly lost them the game. In short order, she came back with his drink before she moved on to the next customer.

  Winning the cup had been a lifetime goal. If he’d scored that honor earlier in his career, he would probably be way worse than the newbies. Their arrogance was a problem of epic proportions.

  “How are you, buddy?” Josh slapped him on the back. “That thing, that big thing worked out for you, huh?” He was half in the bag, and Hawk could tell Josh had no clue who he was. After snapping at the bartender with his fingers, he slapped his hand on the bar when she didn’t answer him fast enough. “Hey, hey there, get my guy here a—”

  Hawk lifted up his full glass. “I’m good, man.”

  “What is that, a Long Island? I thought only grandmas on cruises drank that shit.” The slick guy on the lacrosse team, water polo even, laughed in his face—cute sports that would score him nothing more than a boo-boo. Josh was that rich douche who threw his weight around to score what he wanted. Hawk had met someone like him in each phase of his life, and hated every variation of the Josh clone.

  “Get this man a real drink,” Josh demanded. Before the bartender finished popping the top off a beer bottle, Hawk caught the ‘stank’ expression that twisted her face.

  Tapping his hand across his head in a big, dramatic manner, he nodded with a big, goofy smile. “Now what was that thing you were working on…a movie, right?”

  His schmoozy LA attitude was hard to stomach. Did he morph into this monster or has he always been this way? Honestly, who was he to judge Lexi’s taste? His exes were the worst. But seriously, why the hell would she be with this guy?

  “Oh, that.” Hawk played along, swatting off the pretend career Josh had assigned to him. “It went about as well as expected, but I was looking to get into something new.”

  “Oh jah,” he slurred, slipping into the vacant seat on his right. “Lemme hear it.”

  “Okay.” Hawk swiveled in his seat toward the beach boy prick. “An app where you can send out a video and it disappears.”

  The silly fuck’s lips twisted into smug amusement. “A few years late on that, my friend.” Josh finished his drink and jiggled the Martini glass in Melissa’s direction without bothering to look at her. It was a nasty, snobbish move that Hawk hated. Distracted by one of his guests who wanted to say good-bye, Josh turned away from him, which allowed Hawk to mouth ‘sorry’ to the bartender.

  “Not like DMs, photos that disappear. I’m talking video that has no trace and deletes itself after a certain amount of time,” Hawk described once he regained his attention again.

  “That sounds like a tango with the FCC I wouldn’t want to deal with.” Josh chuckled. The bartender placed his drink in front of him, and he didn’t bother to acknowledge her, let alone offer up a simple thanks. “Maybe you should stick with what you’re good at—reciting those lines and smiling at the camera.”

  Hawk wanted to tell him the same, but only with his fist to the asshole’s face. “You’re probably right. Something that seems harmless could turn into an illegal tool in the wrong hands. Someone could send an unauthorized sex video. I’d imagine the FBI would have to get involved.” Hawk snorted before he picked up his drink and swallowed half of his tea in one gulp. “But I don’t know too much about this kind of stuff. That’s more your lane.” Keeping his sarcastic grin firmly in place, Hawk slipped his hand into his jean pocket. Josh was nothing more than a figurehead who had stolen and cheated his way to the top. Hawk pulled five twenties from his clip.

  “Keep working on those lines, big boy. That’s what they pay you the bucks for.”

  Laughing at the idiot’s childish dig, Hawk laid the bills down on the bar.

  “Yeah, it could use some work. I’ll tinker with it a bit and pitch it to you again at a later date.”

  Hawk stood up and signaled for his teammates across the room, making his way to the door. Restraint had never been that hard to come by. Normally he could shoulder check someone into the wall and pound the anger away. However, people on Josh’s societal scale didn’t take kindly to well-deserved ass-whoopings.

  “Enforcer!” the bartender yelled. He turned to see Melissa grab the cash. “Thanks.” She held up the wad of bills. “And good luck tomorrow.”

  Josh’s face twisted in confusion, before he leaned over the bar and pointed in his direction.

  “We done here?” Marco joined him at the door. “The blondies are having too much damn fun.” The Swedes had a pretty decent conga line going with what appeared to be extremely intoxicated coders.

  “Yep.” Hoping the sycophant Lexi divorced didn’t put two and two together, Hawk stepped out of the restaurant, regretting that he hadn’t punched him repeatedly.

  Chapter Thirty

  Lexi had noticed a pattern, although nothing in Chicago initially made sense. Chicago’s loop had been coined that name due to the cable car system that circled the downtown area in the 1800s and not the famous expressway’s circle interchange. The neighborhood that made up that area ranged from trendy to old ethnic eateries within the same block. Also, unlike California, where rain slowed things down to a standstill, the Windy City’s tumultuous weather required people to swarm the streets at all hours of the day.

  The equivalent to the happy sun cartoon singing along with the flowers made even the worse curmudgeons happy on a light rain day.

  Thursdays held a nice flow of customers, but for some odd reason, Moe’s was packed. Unprepared for the onslaught of bodies in the bar, they were short staffed…again. One day she would get the hang of this.

  With only one server available, Lexi had to man the tables while she worked with Simone to keep up with the drink orders. They had a good rhythm down. Similar to a Broadway musical, they anticipated the other�
�s movements to avoid a crash. Lately Moe’s had been popping.

  She honestly didn’t know if it was the live music, Peaches’ wings or Simone’s eclectic drinks that were the reason for the crowds. At least the busy traffic kept her mind from drifting to parts unknown.

  Managing the bar hadn’t compared to the work that she loved. Lexi could create a whole world with technology, but instead, she was pouring drinks, breaking up fights or booking the next big singer. Several of her headliners had been approached by A&R people from labels or TV reality competition shows. Unlike her taste in men, apparently, she knew how to pick good talent.

  For the first time since the conception of SugarTech, the quarterly meeting had been moved up. The board would be convened for an emergency meeting to vote on her future role in the company. She no longer had any faith that she could win.

  Lining up the schooner like a pro, she pulled the lever on the beer tap. “Is your phone broke? Did you get a new number or what?” The harsh grumble of his voice tickled her ears.

  She didn’t need to look up to recognize that Hawthorne Maze was mad. It was too bad she simply didn’t give a shit.

  Lexi placed the glass on the bar. “Here you go, sir. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Well, now that you mentioned it.” The slick suit leaned toward her.

  “She didn’t.” Hawk pushed his big head in front of his. “Just say thank you.”

  “Uh, uh, thanks,” the guy muttered before he grabbed his beer and left the bar.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Busy,” she said dismissively. “What can I get you, sir?” Lexi moved over to the next customer.

  “A beer. He wants a fucking beer.” Hawk blocked her view of the guy.

  As she opened her mouth to tell the big asshole where to go, Simone squeezed her shoulder.