by Jo Raven
“Already got one, “I grumble. “Didn’t do jack.”
“We’ll grab them,” Hawk promises solemnly, raising a hand in vow. “Thank you, doc. Please don’t mind him, he’s been grumpy ever since he got shot. Why? Beats me.”
The doc rolls his eyes, throws his hands in the air and leaves us.
“What about Rook?” I call after him, but he’s already gone. “Damn.”
“Rook’s fine,” Hawk says. “He’s already checked out.”
“Fine. Then let’s go,” I mutter, pulling off the IV line and bracing myself one-handed on the chair back to get up. My knees waver but hold. “Need to talk to the lawyers.”
“Wait up.” Raylin grabs my broken arm and I hiss. “You’re bleeding.”
Where I pulled out the needle, blood is running down my arm. I rein in my impatience while she goes looking for some cotton wool and tape which she uses to cover the small wound, and we’re good to go.
“Got anything?” I ask Hawk as I drag my heavy feet out the door.
“The detective promised to send what he has any minute now. Meanwhile…” He nods at my cast. “Know what that means?”
“What?”
“Sponge baths.” He waggles his brows suggestively. “You lucky bastard.”
***
Sponge baths will have to wait.
We’re back in the chopper where at least the chances of getting shot are significantly less, and Hawk is reading something on his smartphone, a scowl so dark on his face it’d have scared off anyone but me.
“So.” I lift my chin in the direction of his cell as the chopper takes off over the buildings. “Info came in? What does it say?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Or is it your fucking girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend. Layla. The Hot Bod.”
Raylin gives me a wide-eyed stare.
“Hawk’s girlfriend is a stuck-up bitch,” I explain, and Hawk grins. “But Hawk won’t give her up.”
“She’s a sweet fuck, dude.” He taps his cell on his thigh to some inner rhythm. “She’s hot. That’s all I need right now. A hot body. No complications, no relationship shit. Not like Rook and his girl drama.”
I never could understand this side of Hawk. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t get lonely. Even with hot bod there, it must be cold.
As for Rook… He’s been in love—or lust?—with a girl since forever and won’t give up, even if she has never as much as glanced his way.
Weird.
Evening is gathering. I turn to Raylin, who’s staring down at the lights of the city below, and my pulse jumps, thumping in my ears. Every time I look at her, a vein of heat opens inside me. My tongue remembers her sweetness. My mind her kindness.
She makes me feel happy.
I frown at that, because it’s a new concept. I’ve been angry, sad, frustrated, and flaming pissed. I’ve been cornered and let down and accustomed to a lot of shit. I’ve been okay. But never good. Never happy. Never hopeful. Not until I met her.
“Where are we going?” she asks, and I blink.
“One of my country estates.” Hawk laces his hands behind his head. Even in his expensive suit he’s every inch the badass biker, with his tats, scruff and longish hair, and the attitude. He used to be the greatest rebel of us three.
Until I skipped town, telling nobody where I was heading, and won the prize.
“What about the lawyers? The money?” Fever tangles up my tongue, trips it up. “How we gonna arrange it?”
“When we land, you will call them. Talk to Shin. That guy has the power in the law firm. They should have the cash ready, and tomorrow, when we go back to town for the meeting with the fucking triad, we only need to pass by and get it.”
He makes it sound easy. Hell, he makes it easy.
“Thanks, man.”
“Don’t mention it.”
It’s dark when we land on a helipad in a huge yard flanked by trees. Lights mark the helipad, and the trees and decorative bushes. Hawk’s country mansion, which is lit up like a Christmas tree, is so far I think we may need a car to drive us there.
In fact, there’s a white Club Car waiting for us, and I snort. Come to think of it, I also own a country estate now, somewhere south from here. I think I visited there once, when I was a teenager, with Uncle Tony. Can barely remember.
I barely know what I own.
Now that’s a scary thought. I really need to sit down with those lawyers, have everything explained to me. Decide what to do with all the illegal business my family has been running. What to give back, what to fix.
How to make it up to those wronged and cut the ties with the Organization and any other illegal group. How can you enjoy money knowing it’s stolen? Knowing it’s money steeped in blood? I’ll never understand that.
My uncle once told me I’m too chicken for business. He was wrong. I’m not afraid. What I am is disgusted and fucking pissed with what I found out today.
And sad. So damn sad that they died for the fucking money. That I may die for it, even if I don’t want it. That Raylin and Rook almost died for it.
I rub my hands over my face. What a goddamn mess.
And it’s about to get worse. I know it the minute Hawk’s phone dings. He glances at it, scrolls down, reads. His face goes red, then white.
Christ. Hawk never gets rattled like that. He’s the epitome of cool and collected.
We’ve landed, but we still haven’t made a move to get out of the chopper, waiting for Hawk to say something.
Finally he does.
“This is fucked up, man.” He throws his cell on the empty seat next to him and kicks at the metal frame of the chopper door. “Really fucked up.”
He lurches to his feet, opens the door and jumps off the chopper. He heads toward the mansion with large strides, ignoring the Club Car.
Shit. If things were bad before, now they’ve gone straight to hell.
***
I climb out of the small Club Car as soon as we reach the house entrance. Raylin follows me, calling my name, and I slow down. Plus, when I see all the steps leading to the front door, I wince. With Raylin’s help I make it up there and then force my aching leg not to drag as we enter the house.
“Hawk!” We enter an airy living room with dark furniture and huge black-and-white photos covering the walls.
“Wow,” Raylin whispers. “Amazing photos.”
“Hawk takes them,” I tell her as we pass the room and wander deeper into the house. “He doesn’t seem the type, but he’s quite the artist.”
We find him in another living room open to a pool. He’s sitting in a dark red armchair, hands on his thighs, head hanging.
“Hey,” I say and drop into an armchair across from him, pulling Raylin to perch on the broad armrest by my side. “Everything all right?”
He grinds his teeth. “No.”
Dammit. “Then tell me. Tell us.”
“You should call your lawyers.”
“Fuck the lawyers.” My head throbs so bad it’ll split in two. “Spit it out before I shake it out of you, goddamn, Hawk!”
He sighs and lifts a hand to stop me. “All right.” He works his jaw. “The detective sent me his list of people your uncle met with and talked to in the last twenty-four hours of his life.”
“And?”
“The list is actually quite short. Apart from the usual suspects at the company offices, he didn’t meet anyone, and at home that night he didn’t have any visitors. Except…” He winces. “Except for two men.”
“Who?” I’m starting to lose my patience. “Come on.”
“Rook’s father,” Hawk says. “And mine.”
RAYLIN
“He’s right,” I say as Hawk walks out of the room and around the pool, as he lifts the cell to his ear, calling someone. “This is fucked up.”
Storm says nothing. His eyes are bloodshot, his jaw dark with stubble. He looks exhausted.
“I’ll find you some water,” I say. “We need to get those antibiotic
s and painkillers the doc prescribed for you.”
“Hawk is having them delivered here.”
Oh. Never even imagined that was possible. I’m so out of my depth here it isn’t even funny.
“Good. I…” I get up from the armrest and wipe my hands on my pants. “I’ll go look for food.”
“Just ring the bell.”
“The bell?”
He points at a small device on the table. Small and silver, it has a button on it. “Just press.”
Fine. I press the button and glance around.
Storm snickers. “They are human staff, Ray, not fucking fairies. They need a moment to come over.”
I shrug and smile at him. “Now I’m disappointed.”
Being here is so much fun I almost forget I still have the triad snapping at my heels.
They may not be fairies, but the people working for Hawk are quick. In less than a minute, a tall man in dark pants and a white shirt, with a trimmed beard and mustache, appears at the door and inquires what we need.
Which is yet another question I’m not sure how to answer.
“Er. Food?” I glance at Storm for help. “And water?”
“Of course, ma’am.” The bearded man blinks impassively. “Warm or cold?” At my blank look he elaborates. “The food. Also would it be fingerfood or will you be wanting dinner?”
“We should…” I wave a hand at where Hawk is barely visible by the pool, bathed in blue light. “We should ask him.”
“We’ll have Hawk’s favorite,” Storm says. “That seafood pasta with the white sauce.”
“Of course, sir. Wine?”
“Yes. But we’ll eat here. And bring the medicine when it arrives, too.”
“Yes, sir. Will that be all?”
Storm nods, and the man leaves.
I’m still standing there, my mouth hanging open. So this is how it’s done, huh. Just ask for whatever you like.
“You okay?” Storm is giving me a worried look.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I bet.”
“You will.”
“Not likely.”
“Come back here.”
And I do without hesitation. I kneel between his legs and put my hands on his thick thighs, mindful of the bandaged wound. “What?”
This I could get used to. Being with him. Having him look at me like I’m something precious and beautiful.
His hand lifts to my face, strokes my cheek. “I love you, Raylin. More than anything.”
“And I love you.” I swallow past the knot in my throat. God, this man… “So much.”
His eyes soften. He lifts my chin. “You will get used to this. Compared to all you’ve been through, this will be a piece of cake.”
I shake my head, not sure what to say. This is getting too Pretty Woman for me, and I should laugh and tell myself it isn’t happening. Protect myself. Put up my walls.
But I don’t. I let myself believe him. I thought his heartbeat couldn’t lie, but I was wrong. It’s the eyes. His eyes that turn a clear blue like a summer sky when he says he loves me.
“Then I guess I will get used to it,” I whisper.
“Beats running for your life.”
“It sure does.” My throat closes. I lean my cheek on his good leg, looking up at him. “Is Hawk okay, you think?”
“No, he’s not. But he’ll have to come to terms with it.”
With the fact his dad is one of the leaders of a shady organization and had a hand in killing not only Storm’s parents and uncle, but in the attempts on Storm’s life, too.
“And you? How are you coping?”
He leans forward, the blue in his eyes glittering dark. “Kiss me, baby.”
His mouth covers mine. His tongue swipes my lips open, and his teeth nip until I let him in. He kisses me hard and rough, a hand cradling my head, dragging me closer. He licks and pleasures my mouth with his tongue until I can’t think straight, until I moan and shift where I’m kneeling.
Satisfied, he finally pulls back, leaving me gasping and aroused.
He runs his thumb over my tingling lip and leans back, smiling. “Now I’m fine.”
Chapter Twenty
STORM
Of course I’m not coping so well. Hawk and Rook’s families are my family, too. We grew up together. My father, Hawk’s father and Rook’s mother are third cousins. I always thought that was why the families were so close.
Now it turns out there might have been other reasons. Like the Organization. Money. Power. And death.
Hawk comes inside at the same time as our dinner and my medicine. He says nothing, and I dig into my pasta. I’m famished. Regretfully I eschew the wine, because of the damn antibiotics. I don’t look up from my plate until I’m stuffed.
“Here.” Raylin puts my pills in my hand and pushes a tall glass full of water toward me.
Hawk lifts a brow at this, obviously expecting me to crack a joke, a “yes, Mom,” or something, but I ignore him.
My brain is shutting down. Here we’re as safe as we can be right now, and I’m warm, fed, and with my girl. What more can a man want?
“Did you call the lawyers?” Hawk asks, shattering my nirvana moment.
“I forgot.” How the fuck could I forget about it?
“You were distracted,” Raylin whispers, and a pretty flush spreads on her face.
Damn if that doesn’t make me grin.
“Get a room, you two,” Hawk mutters and pours himself more wine. He’s just about finished the bottle.
Like I said: I don’t think he’s dealing well with this. Hawk loves his parents. Sure, they aren’t tight, but they do meet for lunch from time to time and he looks up to them.
Or used to, until now.
“Here,” he says, passing me his cell. “The lawyers’ number. Call them now.”
He’s right, I should. So I call them and tell them what I need. They sputter and tell me it’s impossible. I tell them it’s possible. They insist. So do I. They tell me there isn’t enough time.
I go medieval on their ass, threaten to fire them if they don’t get me what I want.
Guess I am a Jordan, after all.
They assure me they’ll have the cash in a briefcase waiting for me tomorrow at midday. I hang up and throw the cell back to Hawk.
“What else do I need to know about tomorrow’s meeting?” Raylin’s head is again resting on my thigh, and I pet her hair. “Who’s gonna be there?”
“Us, and my man, the connection to the triad. You know, you’re lucky it’s the Chinese mafia you’re dealing with. Not as rigid as the Italian or the Russian mafia, not as dependent on the bigger bosses to make decisions.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. She doesn’t have to be there. It’ll be safer—”
“They want her there,” Hawk says quietly. “You, too. They want to see you.”
Jesus Christ. “What? What do they care where the money comes from?”
Raylin lifts her head. “It’s personal. I told you.”
“But you didn’t kill anyone.”
“Maybe I didn’t kill anyone, but I did shoot at them, and my dad and brother did wash their hands of it.”
Fuck. “This has to be a trap.” Two millionaires and the girl they’re after. What could go wrong, right?
Hawk reads my mind. Not hard to. “I’ll have back-up. My bodyguards will be following us. And my men in the police force have been tipped off. We’ll be fine.”
He has men in the police force. Of course he has.
I ran away from this shit. Hawk has embraced it. This is starting to feel like a surreal dream.
“Fine. We’re all going.” I throw my hands up. “It’s gonna be a blast.”
This finally gets Hawk to grin. “You’re drunk.”
“Not possible,” Raylin says. “You drank all the wine.”
“Did I?” His grin widens. “Well, then.” He lifts his glass. “Let’s end this shit once and for all.
And then…” He drains his glass, stares at it thoughtfully. “And then we’ll deal with the family clusterfuck.”
***
Hawk gives us one of the guest rooms. I crawl into the king-size bed, still dressed, no energy left to take them off. Raylin turns off the light and burrows into my uninjured side, puffing a small, warm sigh on my shoulder.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispers. “All of this.”
“The mafia thing?”
“Mafia and secret organization detective work. Champagne in the car, helicopter rides, hotel suites.” She swallows. “Me, being here with you.”
“You’ll always be here with me,” I say. “Until you get fed up with me.”
“I’ll never get fed up with you.”
I can almost hear the pout and it makes me laugh. I feel so light with her. “Wait until I start leaving my dirty clothes around the room.”
“Wait until I start leaving my gun parts around the room.”
“Holy shit.” I shift until I manage to put my good arm around her. “I was rather hoping you’d leave your lacy bras and panties lying around. So I could steal them and live out my fantasies.”
“With my underwear? Why, if you can have me?”
“Good point. Then, I guess, you’d better stay with me.”
The giggle or sigh I expect never comes. She’s quiet. A quiet Raylin worries me.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I kiss the top of her head. “What did I say?”
“You say…” Her breath hitches, and my worry goes up a notch. “… all the right things. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“It’s still hard to believe…” I gather her closer to me, feeling her tremble. “Believe…”
“That we made it this far?”
“That you can love someone like me.”
“Oh, baby.” I close my eyes, drawing her scent in so deep nothing can ever take it from me. “You got that wrong. It’s the other way round. It’s hard to believe you could love someone like me. But I’ll work on it, you’ll see.”
***
The day passes in painful lurches—shower, redressing the bandage on my leg. Breakfast. Checking guns and choosing one for Raylin. Lunch. Sitting around, too stressed to talk. Waiting for the light to start fading.
The flight back to the city feels much shorter than the way out.