by Wendy Stone
"She can't, James,” a deep male voice said. “She's moving in with me tonight.” Hawk wasn't prepared for her retaliation and winced when a hard heel jammed into his foot through his shoe.
"I'm doing no such thing,” she hissed, shrugging off his arm and poking her finger in his chest. “Now go away."
"Can't do that baby, sorry. Since your apartment was trashed they have it cordoned off. You can't get back in there tonight.” He stared down at her, his eyes inscrutable. “You didn't seem to have a problem with my bed last night,” he said, loud enough for James to hear.
"Bastard,” she snapped, jerking away and bumping into James.
"Are you okay?” James asked, though he didn't look like he relished taking on someone of Hawk's size.
Mackenzie felt the heat flood her cheeks, knowing he'd heard what Gideon had said and wanted to sink into the ground. “I'm fine, James. Maybe I should just take a rain check on that drink. Thanks,” she said, turning and started to walk away.
Hawk followed her, reaching out and taking her arm, holding her so close she couldn't help but feel him, the heat of him against her. His scent seemed clean and spicy after breathing in the smoky smell that hung over the neighborhood. She could feel her heart racing and fought to calm it.
"We need to talk,” he said. “How'd you get here?"
"You want to talk about how I got here? They're called taxis, Gideon. Usually you wave your arm or whistle and they pull over, you get into the back seat and for a price, they take you where you want to go. Now if that's all..."
"Funny,” he growled. He looked around before propelling her towards another one of the hundreds of alleys in Monroe City. It smelled of decay and old baby diapers. Hawk dropped his hand off of her arm, pushing it through his hair instead. “I can't get you out of my mind,” he said bluntly, turning to glare at her as if it were her fault.
"It might be easier if you quit following me.” She'd meant the quip to come out as smirky and sarcastic. Instead, his words had sent a thrill of some forbidden pleasure through her, causing her voice to sound soft and husky.
His eyes narrowed and he took a step toward her, this time both hands reached for her, grabbing her arms and yanking her against his chest. “You think this is funny? I don't have time for this, for these feelings.” He pulled her up, his mouth coming down towards hers. “Dammit Mac,” he groaned, his lips finding hers.
Her hands were on his chest, not pushing him away, grasping fistfuls of his shirt, holding on as his lips took her on a rollercoaster ride of sensation. His mouth was hard at first, anger making him rough, lust causing his lips to burn against hers. His tongue probed at her lips, pushing past the barrier of her teeth to find the sweet passion of her mouth. She heard his groan, felt it as a physical caress and was lost.
With one arm, he lifted her from the ground, walking with her until her back was against the brick wall of the store bordering the alley. Her legs came up, wrapping around his waist, clinging to him as he devoured her mouth. She could barely breathe, erotic heat enveloping her body, leaving her moaning under his lips.
Then his hands were on her ass, squeezing the flesh under her pants, rubbing her against his erection, the shaft a hard ridge under his pants. He tore his mouth from hers, burying it in her neck, nipping at her throat.
"We can't do this here,” he whispered. “Come home with me, Mac.” His words were more a command than a request, bringing her back to herself.
She pushed against his chest, her legs slipping down and touching the ground. “Let me go,” she ordered, her voice shaky. “Put me down, Gideon!"
There was a note of panic in her voice, as if she didn't trust herself to be alone with him. She didn't, he was too tempting by half. Kenzie began to struggle against him until he dropped his arms, releasing her and stepping back. “Mac..."
"No!” she snarled, holding up her hand. She took a step away from him, cursing her shaking knees and the heat that still flared deep in her belly. “We can't do this again."
He took a step forward, holding his hand out to her. “Mac, come on,” he began. “We can work this out."
She ducked around his hand, walking backwards as she headed towards the entrance to the alley. “No, Gideon, I don't think we can. I think you will always consider me unable to handle what I do for a living and what I have to do to get the story. I can't choose between you and my career. Not now.” Kenzie stared at him for a moment, feeling tears start in her eyes. “It was fun, but..."
"Don't say it, Mac. Just...don't,” he argued, holding out his hand. “I don't give up so easy and neither do you."
She sighed heavily, her eyes moving over him. “It won't work.” She took one long last look and then turned away, heading out of the alley. Only when she was out of his sight did she allow any of the tears to fall, feeling them slide down her cheeks, helplessly.
* * * *
"So,” Ang began, sitting with his feet cocked on his desk even as he was going through a new file. “When's the next date with the gorgeous Miss Hunter?"
Hawk slammed down the report he'd been reading, glaring at Angelo. “There isn't going to be one."
"What?” Ang asked, his feet sliding off his desk in shock even as he dropped the folder onto his desk. “You're kidding, right? There was so much heat coming off the two of you the other night, it was contagious. Carla took me home that night and almost raped my ass."
"Good for you and Carla,” Hawk said beneath his breath. “It's over. She dumped me, okay?"
"She dumped you? Dumped you?” Angelo sat forward, his voice carrying to some of the other desks in the bull pen. Heads turned toward them, surprise on some of the faces.
"Yeah, thanks for announcing it.” Gideon turned and glared at the people staring at him, meeting eyes until they all went back to their own business. “Do you mind if we don't talk about this now?"
"Hawkins! Gutierrez! Get your asses in here!"
Ang glanced over at Gideon and then they both got up, heading in to see what the Captain wanted.
* * * *
Kenzie sighed dramatically, staring down into the frothy drink that Brett had forced upon her when she'd shown up at his hotel room.
Brett, sitting across from her on the small love seat in the sitting room of his suite, glared at her. “Okay, that's it. That's the sixth sigh from you in five minutes. What's the deal?"
"I don't want to discuss it,” she said, taking a sip out of the pink liquid in her glass. It was sweet, almost nauseatingly so. “What is this?” she asked, grimacing.
"You like it? It's my own recipe. You take a bit of everything in the wet bar and then add strawberries out of the complimentary fruit basket and blend it really well.” He took another sip of his own drink, reaching out and opening another of the small bottles of liquor before pouring half into his glass and stirring it with his straw.
"Do you know how much those little bottles go for?” she asked, amusement sparkling in eyes that had seemed dead when she'd arrived. It was the first time she'd seemed almost human since he'd opened the door.
"Yeah,” he grinned back at her. “Just think of Dill's face when he sees the bill. Maybe that will teach him to go on his own damn spying jaunts. I'm tired of being his whipping boy all the time."
"Brett, don't you even try to put that one past me. You like digging into Dillon every chance you get and you know it.” She giggled suddenly, taking another sip of the almost too sweet beverage. “I'd love to be a fly on the wall when he gets the bill."
"Me too, but I'm thinking that a vacation might be a good idea right now,” he leaned forward and tipped the other half of the small bottle of what she saw now was tequila in her glass. “Drink up, little girl. Then I'm treating you to a filet mignon and the most decadent chocolate mousse in history."
"I'm thinking you're trying to get me drunk so you can trick me into incriminating myself, so you have blackmail material in case I ever tell Dillon about this little trip."
"God, can't h
ide anything from you, can I?” He smiled, lifting his glass to clink against hers.
"I'm not talking about Gideon,” she said, after drinking half of the pink concoction down. “He's a pig and I refuse to discuss him.” She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, sending a not so steady glare his way. “The man refuses to realize that I can do my job. Kind of like you,” she said, glaring at him.
"Oh, I know you can do your job, Kenz. I'm the one that always stands up for you, remember?"
She giggled, a hiccup interrupting the melodic sound. “Oops. That's right, it's the rest of the family that thinks I need a keeper.” She sobered suddenly, her words an almost exact copy of what Gideon had said to her earlier. “I don't need someone to watch over me. I managed well enough before he saved me that night, I can do it just fine without him."
"Him?” Brett asked, sitting forward again and laying his hand on Kenzie's knee. “Which him would we be talking about, kiddo?"
"We're not talking about him, I already told you that.” She scowled and moved her leg, knocking his hand off of her knee. “You just remember, you're not that much older than me. I can still kick your butt."
"Debatable,” Brett said drolly. “But I'll let you keep your little fantasies if you wish. I'm just wondering why you walked in here looking like someone stole your best friend and your blankie on the same day."
Kenzie drank down half of what was left in her glass, tightly closing her eyes as it seemed to suddenly burn going down. She shuddered, setting the glass down on the stand beside her. “I don't know what you put in that.” She held up her hand as he started to open his mouth. “No, please, don't tell me, ugh! You really want to know what he did?"
"Uh, duh, yeah, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.” Brett put his own glass down, dropping his elbows to his knees as he leaned forward eagerly. “Spill."
"He stopped me from doing my job."
Brett sat there expectantly, waiting for more that didn't come. “And...” he prodded.
"No and, that's it. He kept me from getting the facts on a story. He told me it was too dangerous, like I can't take care of myself.” She crossed her arms, hugging them to her, her lip out in a serious pout. “I can take care of myself."
The petulance in her tone had a smile crossing Brett's face. “I know you can, sweetie, but I'm betting that Gideon has never really seen you in action, has he?"
"Well,” she began slowly. “Besides seeing me at the warehouse the night of the sting and then in the burning building he pulled me out of, oh and when someone broke into my apartment..."
"Someone broke into your apartment?” Brett asked, all sign of amusement gone. “Did you call the police?"
"Gideon did,” she spat. “As if I couldn't even do that right."
"God girl, why didn't you tell me? Dillon's going to lose it.” He got up from his seat and started to pace the room, stopping every few steps to glare at her. “Do you know what he's going to do?"
"The guy who broke into my apartment?” Kenzie asked, confused.
"No,” Brett said, rolling his eyes. “Sober up, kiddo. I'm talking about Dillon. He's going to skin my ass because you got broken into while I was here to keep an eye on you. Fuck me, the bossy old bastard's going to have a heyday on my ass."
"Oh, yeah, well I'm fine and all. Don't worry about me or the fact that he trashed most of my possessions, including my photo album and most of my clothes.” She got up, taking a few stumbling steps before she gave it up and just stood, swaying unsteadily as she spoke. “Don't even think of caring that my laptop was almost burned, that I don't have anywhere to go tonight and that I might be on a serial arsonist's radar."
"Man, Kenz, I'm sorry. You can stay here with me tonight, of course.” He reached out to wrap an arm around her, only to stare at her in surprise when she shrugged him off.
"No, thank you. Besides, you are on your way back to Michigan tonight, remember."
"Not now I'm not. I'm sticking around until we find out who broke into your place.” He shook his finger at her, uncaring of her mutinous frown. “Don't even try to fight it, Mackenzie. I leave now and I might as well hand in my resignation the moment my plane touches down. And maybe shop for a head stone as well,” he said, almost as an afterthought.
The phone, tucked into Kenzie's purse took that moment to go off. She glared at Brett, mumbling curses under her breath as she made her way to where she'd dropped her purse, digging through it to find her phone. “Yeah, what,” she snapped.
"Yeah, I know him, Ron.” In the next second, her tone changed, her eyes grew wide and then worried. “I'm on my way.” She flipped closed the phone, throwing it back into the black hole of her purse before turning to her cousin. “We're going to have to finish this later. I gotta go."
"What? No, you can't go until you tell me what the phone call was about.” Brett grabbed her arm, stopping her as she tried to walk by him to the door.
"I don't have time...” she began before looking up into his face. “I...I...” tears began to stream down her face and she grabbed his hand. “It's about Gideon..."
* * * *
Gideon paced back and forth in front of the deserted brownstone house in one of the more decayed neighborhoods in the city. His eyes settled upon every figure that walked the street. His informant was late and he didn't like being here, not so soon after his supposed arrest.
Too many people knew of his arrangement with Tanelli and the fact that the cops had busted the warehouse where “the Dog” did most of his business. Just by being here, he was putting himself in danger.
"This could be a set up,” he said under his breath, hunching over to talk into the tiny microphone that was sewn into his shirt. “I don't like it."
Angelo and another of the Narc detectives, Ricky Lange, were in the van on the other side of the street down by the corner. “We'll give it five more minutes. Then, if we can get this piece of shit van to start, we'll leave. Just keep it cool, Hawk."
"It's not your ass hanging on the line here, Ang,” he hissed, then turned, walking a ways down the block. “Not good, not good,” he muttered, hissing the words as his senses seemed to almost tingle with nerves. Normally, he was cool on undercover, able to extricate himself from any sticky situation imaginable, as he'd proved the other night with...
"No, you aren't going to think about her now, Hawk. It would be suicide.” But it was easier said than done. His brain seemed determined to force him to see her beautiful face every time he closed his eyes. He'd memorized it last night when she lay in his arms, sleeping. So soft and sensual, her skin rosy from his loving, she'd been everything he could possibly ever want.
He sighed, swinging around once more and heading back the other way, unconsciously checking every person who passed him, mostly street toughs and older women on their way back home from work. A homeless man sat on the corner in front of a bar, his worldly possessions bundled into a shopping cart that he rested against.
"He's not coming,” he muttered, glancing over at the rusty van.
"Give him a couple more minutes,” Ricky said through the tiny receiver in his ear.
Why couldn't she have given him a chance to explain? “Oh yeah,” he whispered, “cause I can't keep my fucking hands off of her."
"What?!” Angelo's voice crackled over the receiver. “What did you just say?"
"Nothing.” He closed his eyes for just an instant, taking a deep breath. He had to get a hold of himself, he had to quit thinking about her now.
The sound of squealing brakes had his eyes shooting open just as a long black car came around the corner, swiping the side of the van before bouncing off and heading toward him. The window, illegally tinted, rolled down and the end of a high powered automatic weapon was thrust through it.
"Shit,” he breathed, seconds before the first round spat from the barrel amidst a corona of fire.
* * * *
Mackenzie stood at the curb waiting as the hotel doorman whistled her up a cab. She bounced on t
he soles of her feet, her heart racing, the effects of the alcohol gone. “Hurry please,” she called to the man in uniform.
"I'm going as fast as I can, lady,” he said, putting his fingers in his mouth and whistling loudly.
She beat him to the cab door, opening it herself and sliding in. “The hospital,” she said to the cab driver.
"Which one?"
"Monroe City Hospital,” she snapped, wiping the smile off of his face.
The trip took very little time, but enough for Kenzie to sit in the backseat and fret. She could still remember Brett's face as she took off out of his apartment, the shock had been almost comical. She would have to call him...
She threw money at the cabbie as she left the backseat in the hospital parking lot. Hurrying into the Emergency room, she rushed up to the desk. “Gideon Hawkins,” she said quickly to the woman behind the desk when she looked up.
"He's been admitted.” She looked down at her screen. “Fourth floor, room 415."
Mackenzie thanked her offhandedly, and turned, searching for the elevators. Her eyes honed in on a sign and she followed it, slapping her hand on the up button as soon as she reached it. Her mind raced, running from one thought to another, her emotions were in an uproar, worry, regret, sorrow, fear, all tied up in a knot in her stomach. She felt as if she'd throw up.
"Dammit!” she snapped, looking for the door to the stairs when the elevator seemed to take forever. She slammed it open, hurrying up the cement staircase as quickly as she could, only slowing when she reached the door with the huge red four painted across its surface.
"Please let him be all right,” she prayed, opening the door and stepping into the brightly lit hallway. Nurses buzzed up and down in pastel colored scrubs, visitors walked in and out of rooms, the noise seemed almost too loud. Kenzie walked down the hall, searching the numbers on the doors, taking a deep breath when she found the right one.
She pushed it open slowly and stepped into the dimly lit room. Only one of the two beds was occupied and she stepped hesitantly to the side of the bed.
He was so still, his head wrapped in bandages, a small spot of blood staining the white. Tubes hung from a metallic stand, dripping liquid into his arm. A small clip was on his hand, a machine beeping quietly in the corner counting his heartbeat.