Tortured Skye: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 2)

by Gwyn McNamee

  Now, I need to be the one who’s strong, for both of us. Savage may have pushed Gabe away but I’m not going anywhere. And I know Mom, Storm, and Stone would never let what’s going on between me and Gabe get in the way of how they feel about him. He’s a Hawke, even if he wasn’t born that way.

  Gabe isn’t even awake for half a day before the police show up, again.

  “Miss Hawke? Can I speak to you out in the hall, please?”

  The same detective who met with me when I first got to the hospital waits for me in the hall just outside the door. As I exit Gabe’s room, another detective moves in and shuts the door behind him, but not before Gabe offers me a less than reassuring smile.

  I know he’s been dreading this just as much as I have.

  “Can’t you wait to interview him until he’s stronger? He’s still in a lot of pain and on some pretty heavy medications.”

  Detective Morris shakes his head and leans against the wall. “Unfortunately, no. But I wouldn’t be too concerned. At this point, it’s just a formality. I don’t anticipate any charges being issued against him.”

  “What? But what about my landlord, and what he did to Lucas’ place?”

  His eyes narrow on me. “Well, it would seem that neither landlord wants to press any charges given the circumstances. They indicated you have already paid for the damages.”

  What? How is that possible?

  I haven’t left Gabe’s side or spoken to anyone about what he did except the police and the family.

  Suspicion builds in the back of my mind.

  “What about the hospital?” I need to play dumb on this part. The hospital has been trying to keep a tight lid on the whole situation. The hospital CEO, the compliance officer, and the head of the legal department paid me a visit in Gabe’s room two days after I brought him in. I thought they were there to notify us that they were pressing charges against Gabe for breaking into the human resources department. Instead, they shocked the shit out of me by asking me not to mention the incident to anyone other than the police.

  The fear of the breach becoming public knowledge, coupled with the fact that they were employing someone who turned out to be a psychotic stalker, made the hospital very amenable to sweeping it under the rug and agreeing not to press charges against Gabe.

  That was a huge weight off my shoulders, but the lingering issue of the property damage, plus the breaking and entering at my apartment and Lucas’ has been a black cloud over the joy of Gabe’s recovery.

  “Well, luckily for Mr. Anderson, the hospital has also decided not to pursue charges against him. The district attorney’s office isn’t going to waste its time pursuing charges with uncooperative victims.” His tone makes it clear he thinks something is going on behind the scenes, but he doesn’t press it any further.

  Time to play dumb.

  “Oh, really? That’s great news.”

  “Now, with regard to your actions…”

  My stomach knots. I know I killed Lucas to save Gabe’s life, but there is a very real possibility that any evidence of what Lucas did to him was washed away by the flooding. I know Lucas doesn’t have any family, so I doubt there is anyone harping on the district attorney’s office to pursue charges, but that doesn’t ease the feeling of dread.

  “As you know, we were able to recover the body. And the cabin remained largely intact despite the flooding. We located several items that corroborated your story. My partner is taking Mr. Anderson’s statement for our reports, but I can tell you, we plan on recommending no charges be issued against you either.”

  It feels like I take my first deep breath in days.

  Gabe and I are free from the weight of the potential charges hanging over our heads. He can concentrate on his recovery, and I can concentrate on helping him.

  “Thank you, Detective Morris.”

  He nods and gives me a half smile. “You two are very lucky things worked out this way. The situation could have gone very differently.”

  No shit.

  The thought of Gabe going from hospital bed to jail cell has been eating away at me. And now, I can’t help but wonder who had a hand in keeping him in the free and clear.

  “Do you need anything else from me, Detective?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I’ll call if I do, and my partner should be finished with Mr. Anderson soon.”

  I brush past him and pull my cell phone from my back pocket, immediately dialing Stone.

  “Skye, what’s wrong? Is Gabe okay?” His voice is laced with panic, and I realize what me calling him out of the blue must have made him think.

  “He’s fine. More than fine, actually. The police were just here and told me there aren’t going to be any charges against me or him.”

  Stone releases a rush of air into the phone. “Thank God. Like I told you the other day, given everything you explained to me, I wouldn’t have anticipated them charging you, but what Gabe did is a whole other story. I know you told me about the hospital, but why aren’t they issuing any other charges against him?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. The detective said I already paid the landlords for the damage Gabe did to the buildings, but I definitely didn’t do that. Did you have something to do with this?”

  He may have only graduated from law school a year ago, but Stone was already making decent money at the firm he worked for. It made sense that he would have stepped in once I explained our predicament.

  “I wish I could say it was me, sis. But I had nothing to do with it. I know things are weird between you right now, but if I had to take a guess, I would say Savage is probably the one throwing money at your problems.”

  Well, shit.

  Savage has been such a raging asshole about this entire thing, if he really did step up and help Gabe like this, I’m not exactly sure what that means.

  I sigh and dig my fingers into my eyes. “Yeah, that was my next guess.”

  “Why do you sound so upset? Isn’t this a good thing? Maybe it’s an olive branch?”

  I wish I could believe that to be the case, but the fact that I haven’t heard anything from Savage leads me to think it’s more likely he still doesn’t want to speak to me or Gabe.

  There’s one way to find out without having to put myself in yet another tense standoff with him.

  “Maybe. I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I hang up with Stone and shoot a text to the one person who may actually know what’s going on.

  By the time Detective Landry finishes taking my statement and leaves the room, I’m so exhausted, I can barely keep my eyes open. The only thing that keeps me awake is wondering what Skye is doing out in the hall with the other detective.

  She could be in serious trouble over what happened. Regardless of how justified we know her actions were, the legal system isn’t always so cut and dried.

  Skye slips back into the room shortly after he leaves. The furrow in her brow makes my body tense, which in turn sends spikes of pain radiating everywhere.

  Fuck.

  I bite back the curse that wants to rip from my throat so I can avoid another apology from Skye. It’s less painful to suffer through the agony in silence than it is to hear her begging for my forgiveness for the hundredth time since I woke up. No matter how many times I told her to stop, it seems any time I give any indication of my physical pain, she’s incapable of stopping the “I’m sorry” from pouring out.

  “What did that detective tell you?” Her question isn’t unexpected, but the way she asks it makes me think she probably already knows the answer. She drops down into the chair next to my bed and waits for my answer.

  “He took my statement about what happened and then told me I must have a fairy godmother looking out for me because no one wanted to press any charges.”

  She snorts out a laugh and stares down at her phone. “More like a bipolar best friend.”

  Savage?

  “What do you mean?”

  A sardonic laugh slips from her uptu
rned lips. “Detective Morris told me the landlords didn’t want to press charges because I had already paid for the damage you caused.”

  “What?” I sit up and immediately regret the movement. “Fuck!” My abdomen burns like someone is shoving a red-hot poker into it. I press my hand over the pain and squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Gabe…”

  Her hand lands on my bicep but I brush her off. “I’m fine.”

  I open my eyes and meet hers. The apology is on the tip of her tongue but I hold up my hand to silence her.

  “Did you pay them off so they wouldn’t prosecute me?”

  “No, I was just as surprised by the detective saying that as you are. My first thought was Stone, but I just called him and he said he had nothing to do with it. The only other person with that kind of money readily available and aware of the situation is Savage.”

  As much as I’d love to believe Savage stepped up and helped out, the way he acted when he was here doesn’t give me much hope that it was him.

  “Are you sure? Maybe it was Storm or your mom?”

  She shakes her head, her messy black hair falling around her face. “No, it wasn’t them. I sent Dani a text and asked. She confirmed it was Savage. I’m not really sure how to feel about that.”

  Me either.

  Part of me wants to see it as a crack in his defensive stand against us, but the Savage who was here wasn’t the one who has always been my brother. This could very well have just been done out of a sense of loyalty to Skye, knowing what me going to jail would do to her.

  “What did Dani say?”

  Skye hands me her phone, already open to her conversation with Dani.

  < Did Savage have anything to do with the landlord at my place and Lucas’ getting paid? >

  > Yes. I heard him on the phone with his lawyer yesterday morning, and then he disappeared for a while. I think he may have hand delivered the payments. <

  < Did he say anything to you about it? Or about Gabe? >

  > :( No. He hasn’t mentioned him or you since we came back from the hospital visit. <

  < So he’s still pissed. >

  > That’s a pretty fair assumption. I’m sorry I can’t do more to get through to him. I’ve tried talking to him a hundred times, but he doesn’t want to hear it. <

  < I appreciate you trying. >

  I let the phone fall onto my lap and drop my head back against the pillow. Dani has always helped calm Savage’s sometimes hot temper. If she can’t get through to him, I doubt any of us can.

  “Should I call him?”

  It’s a fair question and, when I turn to look at her, Skye’s face is marred by the uncertainty of what to do. The fact that she has to even ask if she should contact her own brother makes my chest tighten.

  “That’s your call, Skye. I’m not ever going to try to stand in the way of your relationship with him. Anything you can think of to do to fix things, you should at least try.”

  A single tear rolls down her cheek. She swipes it away and blows out a breath. “I’m just so mad at him, Gabe. The things he said…”

  She shakes her head and balls her hands into fists. “You didn’t hear everything. This isn’t just about him forgiving us. There shouldn’t be anything to forgive. He owes both of us, but especially you, a huge apology. We don’t owe him anything.”

  This is where Skye and I will always disagree.

  She can’t see why us going behind his back and hiding our relationship is such a betrayal to him. I’ve struggled for a way to explain it to her so she’ll understand. “Skye, if Star had hidden something like this from you, how would you have felt?”

  Her eyes narrow on me. “Star would never have done that.”

  “And I’m sure Savage never thought I would either. That’s what you don’t get, and you never have…my friendship with him is more like your relationship with Star than you could ever know. We spend basically all our time together. We know each other better than anyone. Wouldn’t you have felt betrayed if Star had lied to you and gone behind your back?”

  Her hands shove her hair back from her face and she examines the ceiling for a minute before returning her eyes to mine. “I would have been pissed. I probably would have said some really awful things that I didn’t mean and would have acted like a dick.”

  “Exactly.”

  I pray that, given time, Savage will realize we never intended to hurt him with our actions. The fact that we won’t be together anymore will hopefully help ease some of the sting of betrayal. I’ve managed to put off any discussion of “us” since I woke. I was too worried about the legal situation, and I think Skye is too concerned about my medical condition to press the issue.

  When we finally do have that talk, things will never be the same.

  Skye holds the door open for me, and I shuffle through it. My entire body aches, and my shoulder throbs. But at least the never-ending headache hasn’t reached its normal midday crescendo of pain yet.

  Thank fuck I’m finally home.

  Everyone says they hate hospitals, but I really, really hate them. Between the time I spent in one after the RPG in Iraq and with Savage after his accident, I could have easily avoided one altogether for the rest of my life. If it wasn’t for that little gunshot wound. And the dislocated shoulder. And the concussion. And the hypothermia. And being struck by lightning.

  I manage to make it to the couch before dizziness makes the room tilt, and I’m forced to lower myself onto the cushion before I face-plant onto the hardwood.

  “You okay?”

  She’s kneeling in front of me in a second. I cast a fleeting glance her way before I close my eyes and drop my head back against the cushion.

  Breathe.

  Breathe, and tell her you’re fine. If you don’t, she’s going to dote and she’ll never leave.

  If she doesn’t leave, she’ll keep assessing you and stripping you bare with that look, and you’ll start reconsidering the very wise decision you made to stick to your guns and keep things strictly platonic.

  Why does she have to be so fucking beautiful, though?

  I swallow and open my eyes to make sure the room has stopped spinning before I move my head up and meet her eyes again. “I’m fine. Just tired. I’m going to head to bed.”

  She eyes me suspiciously and purses her lips. “I’ll make you something to eat first. You look pale.”

  Having never had a mother, aside from Mrs. Hawke, I’m not a hundred percent sure what being babied feels like, but I’m pretty sure this is it. And I don’t like it.

  “Skye, go home. I’m fine. I’ll eat later.”

  The scowl on her face is so damn cute, I want to kiss it away, no matter how annoyed with her I am. But I can’t.

  Have some balls, Anderson.

  “Gabe, you need help. Let me take care of you. It’s the least I can do considering—”

  I hold up my hand. “Stop. We are not doing that again. I can’t hear you apologize one more time. Please, just leave. Go sleep in your own bed. I really am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’m just going to sleep anyway.”

  She doesn’t bother to hide her hurt or anger at my words. The daggers she shoots at me could cut fucking diamonds. With an annoyed sigh, she climbs to her feet and turns to reach into the purse she dropped on the coffee table.

  The bottles with my prescriptions and a few other personal items are unceremoniously dropped onto the table before she zips her bag, drapes it over her shoulder, and turns back to me.

  “You are due to take your Percocet and Cipro in four hours. Make sure you set an alarm so you don’t miss any doses. I’ll be back to check your surgical site tomorrow morning.”

  Stubborn girl.

  With some difficulty, I use my good arm to push myself up off the couch. I waver slightly before I catch my balance. Skye steps forward to help me, but I put a hand up, stopping her in her tracks. That adorable scowl returns.

  “I’ve taken pain medication before, Skye. I’m also capabl
e of putting on my own fucking Band-Aids.” It’s far more than a Band-Aid, and we both know it, but I’m not going to let her go all “nurse” on me and treat me like an invalid.

  She growls and stomps to the front door like a petulant child. “Fine, suit yourself, but don’t come crying to me when you forget to take your meds, you’re writhing in pain, and you can’t move your fucking arm enough to actually reach the wound you need to clean.”

  The front door slams before I can reply.

  Not that I know what I would even say to that. I stare down at my slinged arm.

  Fuck. She does have a point.

  I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now, the only thing I can think about is climbing into my own bed and passing the fuck out.

  I don’t remember my hallway being this long, though. The throbbing starts, splitting my skull just as I finally make it to the open bedroom door. I pause, leaning against the doorjamb, to catch my breath and get my bearings.

  When my eyes finally land on my bed, it’s Heaven and Hell all rolled into one. The sheets are still rumpled from my last sleepless night here, and while the thought of climbing in is inviting as fuck, I know as soon as I fall into it, the memories of being here with Skye will flood me.

  No choice though.

  I’m about to fall over. I stumble the last couple steps to the bed and drop down, then lay back.

  The heady aroma of sex envelops me.

  “Fucking eh.”

  Like I need another reminder of Skye or what happened here that night. Since I woke up in the hospital and saw Skye, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. She sat by my side for twelve fucking days, while my best friend only came once and only when he thought I was unconscious. This is precisely what I was trying to avoid the last time she was here by letting her go.

  Now, the reminder of making love to Skye permeates the air around me, the pillow, and sheets beneath me so heavily, I can almost feel what it’s like to be inside her again.

  If I weren’t so fucking exhausted, and in so much pain, I might be tempted to rub one out.