The Hawks_A Novel

by SD Hendrickson

  And it was my fault.

  The truth stabbed like a knife into my gut.

  I may not be holding the gun, but I served as the common denominator tonight. My two worlds had finally met with the impact of a baseball bat smashing a mirror—and the shards cut deep into my heart, carving a path of betrayal.

  Ty held me captive as he carried my body across the ballroom. I hated him. I hated the way his hands bit into my flesh. The way his arm cut off the oxygen in my throat, making it difficult to even breathe. Anger flashed hot under my skin, and I wanted to fight him again. I wanted to hurt my brother the way he was currently hurting me.

  But I couldn’t do a damn thing. Not until we got out of this mess.

  Tyson dropped me on the ground in the open spot next to Cole. I quickly hid my hands in the folds of my ripped and bloody dress. My wrists were still free.

  I looked back up at Ty. His eyes met mine. I saw the reflection of a broken man asking me to trust him. The pain in my heart hurt with the freshness of an open wound. But I gave a brief nod of understanding. I needed to have faith that he could control these men and get us out of here.

  As quickly as it came, our moment disappeared. And I hoped I wasn’t wrong. I hoped he had our best interest in mind right now.

  “There’s no fuckin’ safe,” Deuce growled in his thick country accent. “She lied.”

  The man in the blue mask, or rather Van, glared at Mrs. Hawthorn. Her stare remained even with his as she refused to back down to the man. In a flash of anger, he pushed the end of his gun against her forehead. “I told you to cooperate, but you’re playing games with me.” She didn’t flinch. Her defiance just worked him up more. “You like playing games, old lady? Then I got one for you.”

  With his free hand, Van pulled the knife from his belt. He touched the tip to her chin, forcing her head to tilt up. She was trapped between the gun and the blade.

  “Wait!” Ty spoke up. “Just stop this shit. I got an idea.”

  “I think you’ve had enough ideas.”

  “Stop fuckin’ around!” Ty growled. He marched over to Van. The air got thicker as the unspoken challenge sparked between them. “Just listen. You want money, not blood. And letting her get to you ain’t going to get you shit.”

  “If she tells us where she put the money from tonight, then we don’t have to worry about blood. Sounds pretty simple to me.” He moved the blade, caressing her cheek. “Instead, she lies about some damn safe that doesn’t exist. Tryin’ to save her precious money. The old cunt thinks I’m bluffin’.”

  My throat burned as fear overtook my senses. This was bad. And I didn’t know if my brother could stop Van.

  “We need to talk this through,” Ty pleaded. “Don’t do something stupid.”

  “Fine.” Van pulled the blade away and then spit in her face. Saliva ran down her eye and over her wrinkled cheek to the collar of her elegant dress.

  Yet she didn’t move. Her nose flared, but every other muscle in her body remained completely still despite the spit on her skin.

  The hope inside of me slowly disintegrated. Even if Ty tried to distract the men as we made a run for it, we would never make it out of this room and down the hall. Three were elderly and Brenda had bad knees. And even if we did clear the front door, none of the other houses were close to the multi-acre estate. The men could recapture us or just gun us down in the front lawn.

  All because of my brother.

  I hated myself in that moment. I should have known something was wrong with Tyson. I should have known. I should have been the one to stop this from happening.

  Tyson got Van and Deuce to follow him to the middle of the ballroom. I couldn’t fathom what drew my brother to these people. Maybe the excitement. Maybe the charismatic fire of Van served as a drug. A toxic paint huffed in excess.

  That meant the remaining man in the camo mask was Bo. He joined the others in a hushed discussion but kept his gun pointed at us. Any slight movement, and he could set us all on fire.

  “It’s Ty,” I whispered through clenched teeth.

  I waited for Cole to respond with a few explicit words. Or maybe just a harsh breath of surprise. But none of those things happened.

  “I know,” he muttered.

  The questions plagued me. How long had he known it was my brother? After this nightmare started or before they had ever arrived at the house?

  Brenda started humming again. The notes of an old hymn floated out into the ballroom. I glanced over in her direction. Her singing made me nervous.

  Off to my other side, I watched Cole. A swollen red ring circled his left eye from the fight earlier with Javier. My eyes slid over to the man next to him. Javier’s gaze met mine. And I knew he’d heard my words—the damning words that connected myself to the invasion.

  I couldn’t bear to look at him. Not when I needed to ask my brother’s best friend more questions. Turning my attention back to the intruders, I watched them speak amongst themselves as I continued my own interrogation of Jeremiah Cole.

  “Did you know this was happening tonight?” I whispered.

  “No,” he muttered. “Not this. I knew Ty was in trouble, but not this bad. He slipped away from me tonight. Wouldn’t take my calls. That’s why I came to find you. I knew something was wrong.”

  A small amount of relief came with the answer. I couldn’t handle them both lying to me. Deceiving me. “We have to do something to stop this.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Van yelled in our direction. “I didn’t say you could talk.”

  I turned my gaze back to the intruders. Brenda hummed a little louder. She was going to make him come back over here. I knew the words to Amazing Grace gave the woman comfort, but I needed her to be quiet. For all of our sakes.

  “Shh!” I hissed in her direction.

  “No,” she whispered. “Darlin’, keep talking. I’m covering up your words.”

  “What . . .” Then it hit me. The notes of her song acted like white noise.

  “Sarina.” Javier said from a few feet away.

  His voice made tears water up in my eyes. I couldn’t look at him. I was embarrassed. I was ashamed.

  “You know a way out of here, Sarina,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “Shut up,” Van yelled.

  “Think, Sarina.”

  Deuce left the group. He came to a stop right in front of me. His grin tilted into something lecherous. “Well, it seems Princess here has shared a little secret. There’s no fuckin’ money in this place. Not one damn cent from tonight.”

  “That’s not . . .” I didn’t know what to say. No more pretending now. Ty had shared the truth with his friends.

  With a quick glance toward my brother, I didn’t feel any comfort from his cold face, concealed by the gray mask. In fact, my faith in Tyson remained shaky. I didn’t know what part of him continued to lie to me. I had doubts. How could I not? He was one of them. He was a terrorist while I remained a prisoner.

  Deuce pulled the pistol from the holster on his hip, switching it with the semiautomatic. He popped open the cylinder of his revolver, dumping all the bullets into his fist. He placed just one back in the chamber and stuffed the rest down in his pocket. “Since you people like to play games, we’re going to play a little roulette.”

  I gripped the fabric of my dress. The man wasn’t right in the head. I think he was itching to shoot someone tonight. Maybe Ty wasn’t on drugs, but I didn’t know about Deuce. The urge to run or scream filled my chest. But I had nowhere to go in this sealed-up room.

  You know a way out, Sarina.

  The words came back to me. I had no idea what he meant. But maybe I could stall long enough to find out. Even though I lacked trust in my own flesh and blood, I knew without a shadow of a doubt I could place my life in the hands of Javier.

  Deuce gave the chamber on the revolver a quick spin before closing it with a click. He pulled back the hammer. Bending down to my level, his hollow eyes found mine as he plac
ed the tip of the gun on the swell of my breast—right over my heart.

  “You seem to tell the truth more than the others. So let’s play a little truth or dare. Let’s talk about that money.”

  He caressed my skin with the cold metal. I shivered as a sick feeling overtook my body—one of fear and terror. The shakes got more rapid as the man stared at me. I noticed a scar next to his lip coming up from his chin. The line disappeared somewhere beneath the black mask.

  Out of nowhere, he turned the barrel toward Brenda and it fired.

  “Nooo!” I groaned in horror.

  But nothing happened. She was fine. The revolver shot one of the empty chambers.

  “Stop that fuckin’ noise, or next time I’ll just keep going until you got no mouth,” he growled.

  Every jagged breath came with a slight wheeze through my nose. I wet my dry lips with my tongue. His eyes shifted back to me.

  And then bam.

  I screamed.

  Ty punched Deuce in the side of the face. He fell sideways against the floor from the impact and the gun slipped from his hand.

  The gun . . . the gun . . . I was the free one. I should go for it.

  But I couldn’t. The men were in the way. They rolled together. Hitting. Cursing. I scooted back against the wall, pressing my shoulders tighter to keep from getting pulled into their fight. My free hand grabbed Cole’s arm and squeezed tight.

  “We have . . . we . . .” I gasped.

  “The bar, Sarina. Behind the bar.” Javier spoke as the men threw punches.

  “What the fuck are you doing!” Van charged over to the fight. A wild exasperation shot through his blue-gray eyes. “Get off the floor. Now!”

  But Ty and Deuce never heard his words. Their minds were lost in the battle. My brother hit with his full weight and he received just the same. They were equally made of muscle and bulk. Strong. And their leader had no chance of pulling them apart. He never made an attempt to even try.

  “The story about . . . father . . . hiding.” Javier’s words drifted through the chaos. I strained to listen as my eyes stayed on Ty. “There’s a door behind the bar.”

  The rest got muffled by a spray of bullets spread across the ceiling. Chunks of plaster fell down on Ty and Deuce. I turned my face down to keep from getting debris in my eyes as Scarlett screamed.

  Bo pointed his gun at the two men as he calmly spit a wad of tobacco on the wood floor. “We got shit to finish. Wrap this up.”

  The men separated, a little disorientated and breathing heavily. The deep red on my brother’s shirt covered most of his shoulder now. Deuce wiped the blood from his lip before reaching for the discarded revolver.

  “Stay the hell away from me.” Deuce pointed a gloved finger at Ty. “Or I’ll hog-tie you up with the rest of them.”

  My brother looked like he wanted to lunge at the man. His eyes held nothing but rage. Deep inside, he fought to gain control of his emotions. “If you put a bullet in one of them, I’ll put one in your head.”

  “You ain’t got the balls for that.” Deuce taunted with a low laugh, which only fueled the fire between them. The man pulled the extra bullets from his pocket and reloaded the pistol as my brother set him on fire with a glare.

  Come on, Ty, I pleaded silently. Don’t blow this. We need you out there.

  Van shook his head. “No one’s killin’ anyone. At least not right now. So get the hell over here.”

  Tyson struggled to obey. His chest moved rapidly under the white oxford shirt. The seconds ticked by until he finally stepped to the other side of Van.

  I removed my fingers from Cole’s arm and quickly hid them within my dress. Glancing between the intruders, I didn’t know where to focus my attention. I didn’t know which person would come unglued next. They each possessed a different level of unpredictable violence with little rationale.

  I caught a glimpse of Elmore. His eyes hazy, cloaked in fear. He couldn’t even see clearly without his glasses. The poor man only heard the angry and threatening words being tossed around the room tonight.

  As I struggled to breathe through my busted-up face, I thought back to what Javier tried to tell me in the middle of the fight. I tilted my head a little to the side. Just barely. Just enough to see him on the other side of Cole. His deep-brown eyes bored into mine. And then he mouthed a single word.

  “Tunnel.”

  All the other clues swirled into one memory. The night in my bedroom when I’d wished for a secret passageway for him to visit my room. This old house didn’t contain any wall passages, but it did have one strange tunnel that his father played in as a kid—at least until Mrs. Hawthorn locked him inside and scared the shit out of him and his siblings.

  I faced forward as a small glimmer of hope seemed to rise from this nightmare. If we could get to that tunnel, it might provide an escape from the house or even just a hiding place from the intruders. He’d mentioned the wine cellar that night. But something behind that bar must connect to it.

  My palms grew clammy as a layer of sweat broke out on my forehead. Fear and excitement mixed together. We had a way out. My shoulders fell back against the wall. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. No matter how scared I felt on the inside, a newfound optimism burned bright and the wheels turned in my head. We might all still make it out of here alive.

  But only if we had a distraction.

  If only . . .

  “Gentlemen.” Mrs. Hawthorn spoke louder, projecting her voice out into the ballroom. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement. I could give you—”

  “Shut the hell up, you crazy bitch. You don’t get to speak anymore.” Van glared at her. His eyes drifted back to me. “You. Princess. Where’s the money from tonight? I want to hear it from those pretty lips.”

  A trick question—with all of our lives riding on the way I approached the answer. Think fast. Careful words. My fingers balled up while I tried to steady my nerves.

  I focused on giving Van a sincere gaze, pleading with him to trust me. “I want to cooperate with you.”

  “Cooperate?” His eyes narrowed. “What the hell does that mean?”

  I swallowed the thickness in my throat. “I want to cooperate. To help you get what you want.”

  “What I want is the money from tonight. And dipshit over there said you told him it doesn’t exist. So are you telling the truth or fuckin’ with me again?”

  I struggled for the right way to phrase it. “We didn’t collect any money tonight. It was all pledges. And I’ve got proof. You can see the papers yourself over there by the dessert table.”

  A slow whistle left his lips. “Then we got one serious problem.”

  “I know. So let’s talk this through.” I tried the same words I’d used on Tyson earlier. “Nothing bad has happened here. Not really. So maybe we can find something to agree on. Maybe some other money in the house or . . . or there’s all sorts of expensive stuff. You could sell it.”

  His head tilted to the side. Maybe it worked. Maybe we could find something they wanted in this house and they would leave us alone. Alive.

  Van turned abruptly and went over to the dessert table. He popped a hazelnut cheesecake tart in his mouth and picked up the pledge sheets from the silent auction and casino chip sales. As he chewed the pastry, his eyes scanned the items on the pages. His tongue licked his bottom lip and his eyes shot up. Just as quickly as he left, Van returned back over in front of where I sat on the floor. The man bent down to my level.

  “I’m not stupid. You might think I am, but I’m not. I can add shit up. And this here”—he shoved the papers in my face—“this total comes close to three and a half million. Now the way I see it is if the cash had been here tonight, we would have gotten almost a million each. So I’m listening. Tell me how to get three and a half million out of this house. ’Cause that’s what it’s going to take to make this end all peaceful and shit.”

  Van might be able to do the math, but he had to be downright ignorant if he thought the
fundraiser would have collected that much cash tonight without an armed guard holding it in his hands. But none of that mattered at this point. This man wanted something that didn’t exist, and I needed to find something tangible to equal three million in cash.

  “Okay.” I nodded, assuring him. Assuring myself that I had some plan. I just needed to hang on a little longer. I needed to think. I could outsmart them. I just needed to be strong. Keep a clear head.

  “Don’t be stubborn, and listen to me,” Mrs. Hawthorn said from a few feet away. “There’s a safe in my bedroom.”

  “Like we’re fallin’ for that shit again.” Deuce laughed as he approached my boss. He pointed his gun in her direction. She didn’t shrink away from the man despite the worried crease above her penciled eyebrows.

  “She’s not lying.” Javier spoke up. “I know it exists.”

  I didn’t know what to think. If this was another decoy, another ruse. Or maybe he was telling the truth. I had to trust my heart. It didn’t matter if the safe existed or not. I trusted that he knew best.

  Van glanced in the direction of Javier. “I’m just supposed to believe you?”

  “Yes,” I insisted. “You have to trust someone or you won’t get anything. You can trust me. And you can trust him.”

  Van licked his bottom lip, pulling the whole pink swell between his teeth for a moment. “Okay, what’s in it?”

  “I am not certain on the amount,” Javier said. “But she keeps cash and jewelry inside. I know that’s true.”

  “Let’s say you ain’t lying this time. Where’s this safe in the bedroom? I need details, not bullshit.”

  “There’s a hidden button underneath her dresser. It will move the mirror to the side. The safe is located behind it.”

  “Okay.” Van nodded slightly, his eyes darting over in the direction of Deuce. “Take the Mexican to find that safe.”

  I bit my bottom lip to keep from screaming no. I couldn’t let Deuce leave with Javier on another one of her scavenger hunts. He wouldn’t come back. I felt it in my gut. My heart. Deuce would kill him. Just for spite or maybe for fun.

  My skin felt clammy as panic rolled through my stomach. I needed to do something. To stop this, but my mind drew a blank.