Hawk's Revenge

by N. M. Catalano

  I hold up a hand to stop him right there. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  He locks me with a death stare. “No, you stop! Just listen, this is about you too.” He smooths his hands down his perfectly pressed jeans. “Now, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted?” He pretends to think as he taps a finger against his lip. I roll my eyes at him. There’s no stopping Niles once he gets started, so I have no choice but to listen to him until he’s said everything he feels he needs to. “Right,” he lays his hands on the bar and leans forward. “I’ve been sleeping with the same guy for two weeks. We’re exclusive, but we can’t go out in public or do anything outside of closed doors, and he slinks out in the middle of the night. We’ve even rented a room in the dive motel in town, you know the one where all the drug dealers meet their runners? I hate that place, and I only do it because it’s him. You know Ambrosia would not lower her standards for anyone if it was not special, right?” he does the whole head rolling and finger wagging thing. I don’t bother to answer, there’s no point, Niles wouldn’t hear me anyway now that he’s on a roll. “I was telling him we should get out of here, go somewhere else, a city, or even a town that’s not so damn crooked. Jo,” his tone has turned pleading and all sense of amusement is gone from his eyes.

  Bent down into the cooler, I pause with two bottles of beer in my hands and look up at him. “What? I’m listening. You’re right, you should get out of here. I think you’re crazy for staying this long.”

  “No,” he waves a hand dramatically at me. “I want you to come with me. Screw him. It’s you I’m worried about. Girl, have you looked at yourself lately? You’re so skinny, and you constantly look exhausted. That I can live with, but the sad shit, I can’t deal with that anymore. You deserve more than this. You’re killing yourself, and I will not stand by and let that happen.”

  Instantly, I choke up as I feel the tears well in my eyes. I drop my gaze from his penetrating one and get back to work, shoving the meltdown back where it came from. “I’m fine. Everything’s okay, Niles. I appreciate it, but I’ve got to take care of this place.”

  “Oh, puuuhleeeez!” he drolls. “They shoved this cross on your back when your father died,” I glare at him, warning him he’s entering dangerous territory. He arches a perfectly shaped brow at me. “Don’t you give me that look JoEllen McAfferty. I know you better than anyone else, probably better than you know yourself, and you are NOT fine. I’m calling bullshit and telling it like it is, even if you don’t want to hear it. It was me you made plans with to go out and conquer the world. We were going to do it together. Hell, we were well on our way. I was going to do your hair and makeup, even dress your boney ass, then send you out looking fabulous.”

  Regret sinks like a boulder inside my heart. We did do that, it was just me and Niles and Amy all throughout school, the freaks no one wanted to hang out with. Then Niles and I left, and Amy stayed. Niles and I always had each other. I pushed him and Amy away after my dad died, I had to. I didn’t have time for anyone or anything else, but Niles refused to let me go, he was always right here. Maybe that’s the reason he stays, he’s waiting for me.

  I can’t stop the sigh that all the sadness pushes out. “That was a different time, and I was a different person.”

  “Bullshit,” Niles coughs.

  I laugh softly and shake my head.

  Niles slides has hand across the bar toward me. “Honey,” I lift my head and meet his gaze, but I don’t take his outstretched hand. His eyes are imploring, “I don’t know what happened between you and Castillo, but I know something did, something bad. You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to keep this place. Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to have it like this.”

  I have no reply for Niles, because everything he’s just said is the truth. The painful truth. So instead, I don’t say anything as I go back to shoving bottle after bottle of Bud Lites into the cooler, ignoring the weight of Niles’ stare.

  A stretch of silence passes between us; he’s said his peace and I’m not touching it, not acknowledging it, not commenting on it at all, hoping it’ll disappear. Finally, Niles gets his signature ‘cat that ate the canary’ expression.

  Uh oh, I know that look.

  “I heard through the grapevine that some delicious morsel came in here last night. AND he said he was a friend of yours. Spill it, Jo, who was that stranger everyone seems to have their panties all twisted up about.”

  The guy dressed in the white t-shirt, amazing looks, and danger. The man who exuded primal sex and no mercy. The silent stranger who shook up this place with hardly a word.

  Hawk.

  Slamming the cooler door shut, I rip open the case of Bacardi coolers. “His name is Hawk.”

  “Oooh, I like it. Which team do you think he plays on, yours or mine, or could it be both?” Niles asks deviously.

  The thought of Hawk merely playing woke up something latent inside me, something I thought Frank had killed that day. A feeling so foreign, I almost didn’t recognize it. Desire. I shoved it down and ignored it, just like I’m cramming the cooler full of alcohol.

  “I thought you and your new man are exclusive?” I aim for a little sarcasm.

  “We are, that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t welcome a friend into our little circle,” his perfectly arched brows do a little dance.

  I laugh. “You are so bad.” I go back to filling the refrigerator and ignore the feelings I haven’t felt in years just thinking about Hawk elicits. “Honestly? I’m not sure he plays at all,” I feign indifference. “He seemed so…cold and serious. Like he didn’t give a shit about anything.” That much is honest. But I bet he’s all kinds of bad in all the right ways, if someone was interested. That also is not bullshit, and Jesus Christ, I cannot believe those words popped into my head. But I’m not. No, I am definitely not interested.

  “I heard he said he was a friend of yours,” Niles asks me suspiciously smirking. “Have you been holding out on me, Jo? Spill it, I want all the details.”

  “Hah!” Throwing the empty cardboard box to the side with the others, I straighten as I feel another rush seep through me. “The only time I’ve been outside of this bar is when I’ve had to go buy supplies. I don’t know the guy. Maybe he knew my dad, but I don’t think so. I’m sure I would have remembered if he’d mentioned him.” Everything about that makes me angry. Because if he was a friend of my dad’s, then there are other things I don’t know about my father, or I’m starting to forget things about him. I’m certain there’s no way I’d have forgotten Hawk. Frank’s security are boys compared to a man like him. He looks like the kind of guy who plays with danger for fun, with his cold hard glare and lean muscles.

  Niles scoots to the edge of his seat and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “You didn’t hear this from me, but seems your little mystery man has some of the boys around here all in an uproar. Including Frank Castillo. They don’t trust him. If you ask me, I think it’s because they don’t own him. From what you’re saying, a man like that could give them a run for their money. Especially with you,” he points an elongated finger at me.

  Shocked, I look at him wide eyed. “Me?! What do I have to do with this?”

  “Oh my God, Jo, you are so stupid sometimes,” he rolls his eyes. “They don’t own you. I don’t know how, but they’ve got you by the balls with this bar, I’m not that blind. But not you. You, my love, are a wild card. And the one that gets you wins the game.”

  No, just no. I don’t have anything to do with this. It’s true Frank made it abundantly clear he didn’t want me anywhere near Hawk. That makes me wonder why.

  “Do you hear yourself, Niles? That’s ridiculous.” I grab a case of Shock Top.

  Niles sits back in his chair, crosses his legs, and folds his arms over his chest looking mighty smug with himself. “Well, all I’m saying is he ended up in your bar saying he knew you. That is enough for me.”

  What?

  No…there’s no way.

  Bu
t Niles is right. People don’t just end up in this part of Gulfport, no less in some old bar at the end of nowhere. Maybe he was a friend of my dad’s. Maybe that’s the reason Frank wants me to stay away from him.

  “Bo said he might be coming to work,” I grumble irritably. If that’s the case, that makes him one of them. That makes him the enemy.

  “WHAT?”

  “Yeah,” I feed bottle after bottle of beer into the cooler, faster and harder than I should, for something else entirely. I’d hate to break one and have to clean it up, but the thought of Hawk being one of them makes me furious. “So don’t go falling head over heels over this stranger. Apparently he’s just like the rest of them.”

  Niles’ brows furrow together. “I guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

  From a very long stretch of distance.

  “Are you going to set up for tonight now?” I ask him, I’ve had enough talk about Frank Castillo and his armed watchdogs. And especially about Hawk, he took up way too much of my thoughts all night, and all day. I’d have to be in a coma not to have noticed all that angry strength he silently exudes, wrapped in looks that are too perfect, ink running up and down both arms of corded muscle, and a silent attitude that warned not to get too close.

  “Yes, I thought I’d do it now, then I can meet my stud for dinner before karaoke begins. When are you going to start singing again, Jo? Do it for me, please, it always made me lucky.”

  This time I really laugh. “It doesn’t seem like you need any help getting lucky, Niles.”

  “Come on, you’ve got a beautiful voice, and you love to sing. Don’t let those bastards take that from you too.”

  I give him a hard glare. I hate it when Niles is right, he has no idea how right he is.

  I’m a prisoner, in this bar, in this town, and inside myself, and there’s no way out. When my dad died, it seemed everything died with him.

  “I will when I feel the time is right. I just haven’t been in the mood.” I pretend to brush it off.

  “For five fucking years, Jo?”

  I clutch the bottle tighter in my grip to stop myself from hitting him with it.

  He throws his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry. Just know I’ve always got your songs on cue, whenever you get up off your ass and start living a little again.”

  Despair, isolation, and rage unfurl within me like a big black cloud threatening to choke me.

  He slides off the stool and grabs his backpack before I can tell him to shove the songs up his ass. Except he’s right. About everything, so much more than he’s aware of. Hawk showing up here, and me just going through the motions like a zombie. One thing I am certain of, though, is Hawk is not here for me. No one is here for me, not even Niles. If anything, Hawk is here because of Castillo. Probably another soldier in his illegal army.

  The problem with believing in something, even yourself, it makes you have hope. And hope is a very dangerous thing.

  Fran Castillo made sure I learned that lesson.

  CHAPTER 5

  Hawk

  You know the thing about first impressions? People will usually formulate their entire perception on that one thing alone.

  Jo thinks I’m a prick. And an asshole. I saw it all over her face. She’s not wrong, because I am.

  One week in Gulfport and I haven’t made much progress, which does not make me happy. Don’t get me wrong, these things take time, despite the fact I’d love to burn this place to the ground. It’s not the job that’s frustrating me, it’s her. Unfortunately. Ignoring the fact would be not seeing the truth, and seeing everything has kept me alive this long. I died at sixteen years old, and was reborn without a heart and without a soul. Everything human was ripped from me. For fifteen years I’ve experienced every hell on earth. It’s made me into one of the most dangerous men in the most powerful organization in the world, known for my brutality and perfection. How? Because. I. Don’t. Care. About anything. Mostly not about myself. That doesn’t make me reckless, on the contrary, it makes me deadly. Precise. Cunning. And calculated. So, yes, I am a prick, and a major asshole. I don’t give a fuck. That makes me lethal. That makes me untouchable. That pisses most people off. It makes them angry, which makes them sloppy, and sloppiness gets people killed. Boo-fucking-hoo.

  But not Jo. She takes me with a cool serving of indifference, and a side of go-fuck-yourself. Like I said, the woman’s got balls. And every other perfect thing men love, the perfect pair of tits, strong long legs, an ass you want to bite, and I bet a pussy sweeter than apple pie. The fact she’d blow a hole in you a mile wide for even thinking about any of that makes her my idea of the perfect woman.

  Not fucking good. At. All.

  But it also makes this ‘not an assignment’ pleasurable as hell. Not good either.

  So when I walk into Joe’s Bar, the same time as I do every night, I step to the side of the front door and look around. They stopped questioning me about my third night here, but I continue to get the leers and the I-still-want-to-kick-your-ass looks. Funny. As I scan the room, out of the corner of my eye, I’m watching her. Always. Watching her. I watch her eyes, see what she sees, look at what she’s looking at. Something tells me she just might show me what I’m looking for. Tell me the one thing I’ve been waiting to hear.

  The place is packed, as usual, no surprise there, but as if she can sense me, her head lifts from the drink she’s pouring and her eyes meet mine. Even from here, I can see her body tense, and hell if I don’t react from the way she reacts to seeing me. Then her eyes dip to furious slits, and damn, if that look doesn’t look good on her. Instantly visions of us wrapped in an angry fuck explode in my mind, making my dick, that’s been like a homing device for this woman, wake right the hell up.

  Not good.

  It’d be different if she was just a body I’d use to take care of the basic need of fucking. She’s not, and I’d be foolish to think if I dipped my dick in her, it’d be just that. The problem is, I do want to. But I won’t.

  That doesn’t mean I can’t push her a little, rattle her up, shake that tree and see what might fall out.

  Like those sweet tits of hers.

  Fuck.

  Lock that shit down, Hawk.

  Right, don’t think about her tits.

  Crossing the full room to her end of the bar, she follows me with her eyes. Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as her eyes get wider and wider as I get closer. This is the first time I’ve not sat on the other side, and from the looks of Jo, she’s not happy about it.

  Shake, rattle, and roll baby.

  This end is full, there isn’t a vacant stool. Even better. I stand at the corner where it meets the wall, and lean an elbow on the bar top, casually looking around the room as if I had all the time in the world, and absolutely not a care to give two shits about. Half of that is true. The sound of flesh smacking wood prickles my ears when Jo slaps the bar with both hands, and damn, if that doesn’t sound sweet. Never said I wasn’t a perverted bastard.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Jo hisses, her body leaning over the plank of wood separating us, bringing her face as close to mine as possible.

  That little movement only serves to fuel my already very active imagination, adding a little visual to the many X-rated thoughts I’ve had about her. The fact her very juicy tits pressed against the bar, squishing them and making them spread, do not help. My dick starts rising, pointing straight up to the object of his attention.

  Fucking great, I’m going to be standing here with a hard-on, and I’ll have to smash the guys face next to me if he thinks it’s about him.

  “Drink. Jack Daniels…”

  “Straight,” she cuts me off. “I know.”

  I quirk and eyebrow at her, and inside I’m grinning. Outside, I’m stone cold. “I’m impressed,” my tone dripping sarcasm. Because, yeah, I’m a prick.

  “Don’t be. It’s my job. I know what everyone drinks.” The condescension rolling off her tongue I bet wo
uld taste sweet as candy. As I sucked it.

  “Good. Saves me the trouble.” I turn my face from hers with a bored expression. Not because I am bored, but to see which security morons are already bent out of shape because I’m over here. Talking to her.

  A moment of hesitation ticks before she asks, “The trouble of what?” the curiosity getting the better of her.

  I drag my eyes back to meet hers again. The fire in them, those tawny eyes filled with anger and secrets, dare me to push her. Oh, I’m going to push you, baby, so hard, and so far, there might not be any coming back. I stare into them with no emotion, nothing visible on my face. It’s all raging inside me. I can see her discomfort growing under my scrutinizing gaze. She doesn’t like to be cornered or pinned in any way. It makes her want to fight. That only makes me want to push her more. Too bad I can’t tell her to never let her enemies see her weaknesses, it only makes them want to abuse them. And her. Big mistake, Jo. Something tells me she can’t afford any mistakes. Along with the shotgun on the floor behind her.

  I turn my head and break our stare. “Talk.”

  I hear her mumble, “Asshole,” as she turns to get my drink.

  Told you.

  I slide my billfold from my back pocket, then shrug my jacket off. Jo’s already back and placing the glass on the bar in front of me. But her eyes are on me. They travel up the length of my arms, across my chest, and drag over my face, until they meet my eyes. When the corner of my mouth kicks up in a smirk, a rush of pink explodes on her face as her eyebrows pull together and her lips flattens to an angry line.

  “How’s the show tonight?” I can’t help the dig.

  “It sucks,” she grits out.

  I pull a fifty-dollar bill from my wallet and place it on the bar. “Really? Could have fooled me.”

  She snorts, actually snorts, a disgusted sound. “No doubt. Just like the rest of them.” Then she grabs my cash and turns.

  That’s it, baby, tell me what I want to hear.

  Jo slams my change on the shellacked top, avoiding any eye contact with me at all, being very careful she doesn’t look at any part of my body, before she spins on her heel and moves on to the next customer. I almost chuckle.