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I walk up the drive to the front door. “Hello,” I say to the man, sounding much calmer than I feel, holding up my keys so he knows it’s my house. “You must be the man Hawk sent.”
He nods, stands and wipes his hands on his pants. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “You are?”
“Melissa Chase.” The house is under Chase, not my real name. “I live here.”
He nods, shakes hands with me. “Hawk didn’t mention you’d be here.”
“Oh, I just forgot something. Will my old key work?”
“No, those locks were no good. I’ll take the new keys to Hawk as soon as I’m finished here. Just a few more minutes.”
“Oh, I’ll take the keys. It’s my house. Can you let me in while you wrap up?”
“Ms. Chase you said?” He digs out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“I work for Hawk, ma’am.”
“It’s my house.”
He starts to dial a number.
“Wait, are you calling him?”
He puts the phone to his ear, and I can hear it ringing.
“Wait. Stop.” But a moment later, I hear Hawk’s voice as he answers.
“Hawk, I’m almost done here but Ms. Chase is here wanting her key and…”
He trails off and I know why from the way he looks at me.
“Yes, sir. All right.”
“I need to get inside,” I try, the man still nodding at whatever Hawk is saying. I have to get the things I need because what if I can’t come back here again?
He finally hangs up the phone and unlocks the door. “Ma’am.” He gestures for me to go in. “Hawk is on his way to pick you up. He says you’re to wait here.”
I swallow. “Hawk’s coming?” Crap.
He nods, doesn’t quite meet my gaze.
“Okay,” I say, walking inside because there’s nothing else I can do. I was hoping to slip back into the shop unnoticed, no one the wiser.
The door closes behind me and I hear the new lock turn and when I try it, I can’t open the door. I’m locked in my own house.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the man says. He must hear me struggling with it. “Hawk will be here in a few minutes.”
“This is…you can’t lock me in my own house!”
He doesn’t answer though and from the window, I watch him pack up his things. From that same window, not five minutes later, I watch a black SUV, so out of place here, turn onto the street. Hawk climbs out of it.
A sedan pulls up behind it and Axel gets out, leaning against the driver’s side door. He lights up a cigarette.
The locksmith walks up to Hawk, hands him the keys—my keys.
When Hawk looks up at the window and meets my gaze, I drop the curtain and step away, my heart racing because I can see from here that he’s pissed.
I run up the stairs and into my bedroom. Inside the closet, I shove the empty shoe boxes aside and find the one I’m looking for.
From inside it, I take out an old pair of sneakers and underneath the tissue paper, find the thumb drive and my passport. I shove both into my purse just as the front door opens and I know the instant Hawk’s inside because the air shifts, almost like it gets thinner, and it’s hard to breathe.
He doesn’t say a word as he climbs the steps. I shove the boxes back haphazardly and stand, shoving the closet door closed just as he fills the bedroom doorway, all huge and annoyed looking.
I find myself stepping backward before he even takes a single step inside because I remember well our conversation from the first night. I have a feeling I’m about to find out what the consequences are for breaking one of his rules.
18
Hawk
“You’re wearing out my patience.”
I step into the bedroom, note how the closet door is open, two shoe boxes having fallen over stopping it from shutting.
She matches each of my steps in the opposite direction, keeping distance between us. She’s flushed and out of breath and looks guilty as sin.
“Brian just lost his job.”
“I snuck out the back. It wasn’t his fault.”
I walk toward the closet and she backs away to the foot of the bed. I open the door, look down at the toppled boxes.
“Actions have consequences. As does incompetence.” I shove at a box. “What were you doing?”
“I needed something,” she starts, her voice different, forced.
I turn to look at her. “What did you need?” She looks guilty as sin.
Her eyes search mine momentarily before she shifts her gaze to a point beyond my shoulder.
“A book.”
“You keep your books in the closet?”
She wrings her hands.
I step to her.
She backs up again. “While I was here, I thought I’d get my yoga clothes.”
“Did I give you the impression I’m a complete idiot?”
Her back is to the wall by the time I reach her. She stares up at me, wide-eyed but mute.
