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Grabbing some snacks from the vending machine and a cup of crappy coffee to swallow them down with, I get myself settled in one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room—my bed for the night. Not as comfy as Wilder’s, but I’ve slept in worse, and it’s not like I’m going to get a good night’s sleep anyway, knowing Mel is out there and not being able to see Emilia with my own eyes.
Hawk is under strict orders to send regular updates, and I’m halfway through an episode of some comedic cop show on my phone when his name pops up in a notification.
Hawk:At the house. Grabbing stuff now then we’ll head to NE.
I respondwith a thumbs-up emoji and a photo of my substantial dinner before going back to my show. Time goes by in twenty-minute blocks, and by the time I’ve watched four more episodes and not heard anything further from Hawk, I’m beginning to worry.
I try to tell myself it’s nothing, that he’s just busy with Emilia. I know as well as anyone how the rest of the world can fall away when you’re around that woman. It can be difficult to remember even the most basic tasks, such as sending a text message.
By the time the next episode ends, I can’t sit still any longer, and I close out of the app to call him. “Answer the damn phone,” I growl under my breath when it continues to ring.I swear if he’s too busy getting his dick wet, I’m going to give him a black eye as a reminder not to be an ass.
Cursing him out when the call goes to voicemail, I don’t bother trying again and instead pull up the app that enables me to track his phone’s location. When a pin drops on top of the brownstone, I frown.It’s been hours; he shouldn’t still be there.
Emilia’s tracker pings with the exact location.
The worry that’s been niggling in my gut escalates to full-blown panic as I stuff the empty bag of crisps in the trash and rush from the room. Passing Wilder’s closed door, I briefly consider waking him, but he’ll only insist on coming, and I don’t have time for that now.
If nothing is wrong and Hawk really is just being a dick-thinking idiot, then I’ll be there and back before he wakes. And if something more sinister has happened… well, then I guess he’ll find out about it when he wakes up. His fault for trying to fuck Emilia in broad daylight where anyone could see and getting himself stabbed for it.
Striding from the hospital, I climb into Hawk’s car. He and Emilia took a taxi earlier, so we’d have the car instead of waiting for a taxi, especially if Wilder threw a fit and demanded to leave in the middle of the night. Now, I’m fucking grateful I don’t have to hail down a cab and make small talk while my insides rage.
The car peels out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires, and thankful for the late hour, I race through the streets toward the brownstone. My head is a chaotic blur of possibilities, and as the miles tick by, I work to empty my mind of all thoughts. I need to go in there level-headed. I refuse to let my fears get the better of me as they did that day on campus. Hawk is with her this time, and I know that no matter what, he’ll do whatever he has to do to keep her safe.
Of course, all of this assumes that there’s something actually wrong, and the two of them aren’t just going at it like rabbits in the cinema room. Yet, that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that’s only hopeful thinking, and I should prepare myself.
When you’re used to walking into unknown situations and having to assess in a split second with limited information if you and your men are in danger, you develop a sixth sense for these things. I swear I can practically taste a threat on the horizon before it ever encroaches. That gut feeling has gotten me and my men out of many perilous circumstances. I’m not about to ignore it now.
Pulling up in front of the brownstone, I reach over and open the glove compartment, lifting out the handgun I shoved in there after we dragged Wilder’s unconscious ass to the car. I didn’t want to leave it just sitting in the backseat for anyone to see and call the cops, especially given the very obvious blood stains on Hawk’s white leather. That’s just asking for unwanted questions and your hands in cuffs.
Grabbing Hawk’s for good measure, I tuck it into the back of my jeans and double-check that the knife is still strapped to my ankle before slipping out of the car.
I quietly close the door behind me and look up at the brownstone. It’s cast in shadow, no signs of a single light on inside. Scanning the deserted street, I stealthily climb the stairs and insert my key into the lock. Carefully easing the door open, I pause on the threshold to listen for any noises from within.
The hall is cloaked in darkness, and I have to turn on my phone’s flashlight, waving it around the space as I deftly step inside. Two steps in, I freeze, nausea crashing over me as a discarded shoe catches the beam of my flashlight.
Flashbacks slam into me, causing me to double over, my eyes shutting against the onslaught.
Attempting to wrangle my emotions under control, I struggle to breathe through the pain. It’s not the shoe that triggered me, but the trail of blood smeared across it. The reminder of that night is too much. Some sick reenactment that has me nearly crashing to my knees.
Sucking in a lungful of air, I force it out in a slow, steady stream. Keeping my eyes tightly closed, I repeat the action twice more, gathering my strength before prying them open. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I force my eyes to remain focused on the shoe. I recognize it as one of the ballet flats Emilia was wearing earlier, a fact that has fear threatening to pull me under once more.
I will myself to remain strong, for her. Now more than ever, she needs me. I won’t let her down. She may have been right when she told me I couldn’t have done anything to help Laura that night, but I’m not eighteen anymore, and more importantly, I’m not too late. I refuse to believe otherwise.
Pushing myself upright, I tear my gaze away from the shoe, scanning the remainder of the hall with keen eyes. A shiver wracks my body when I find a bloody handprint on the wall. It’s all too coincidental, too reminiscent of that night.
Only someone who was there or who has seen the crime scene photos could know how triggering this would be for me. At that thought, anger drowns out any other emotion, chasing my fear and PTSD into the shadows as it rears its furious head.
Mel knew I would come. She set this twisted little scene up specifically for me.
As I take a step forward, intent on stopping these sick games, a terrified scream pierces through the silence, stabbing me straight in the heart.Emilia.Any concern for my own safety and memories of my traumatic past are obliterated as I rush forward, only one thought on my mind—I have to save her.
Chapter23
HAWK
“Quick in and out,” I tell Em as we pull up outside the brownstone. “There’s a couch in my office we can crash on tonight.”
Emilia bites down on her bottom lip, and despite how inappropriate it is, my dick twitches in my pants. Ignoring him, I reach over and squeeze her hand. “Everything is going to be okay. Wilder’s fine, and Kai will keep him safe until tomorrow.”
