Page 73 of Hawk (Burnout 3)


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She sped down the stairs the next morning and out the front door, skipping breakfast altogether. She guided the Mercedes out of the driveway and gunned the engine all the way to the end of the block. She had lunch with Tate and her future in-laws this afternoon and there was no way in Hell she was showing up without that ring. Rather than turning left at the first stop light, she swung a hard right, away from downtown. She nosed into the turnaround of Burnout, not bothering to actually pull into a parking space.

Hawk was already there. She recognized his Harley off to the side of the building. She got out, slammed her door, and stalked toward the open garage bay. Hawk had seen her pull in and took a few steps forward to greet her, though he looked about as happy about it as she probably did.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Tildy would have none of it. “I want my ring back,” she snapped at him. Everyone else got very quiet. Tildy wasn’t sure, but they may have turned the radio down, as well. Hawk seemed surprised at her anger, as though he was the only one with a right to be irritated. So what if he was busy right now? If he had treated her a little better, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.

“I don’t have it with me,” he replied, but for some reason Tildy didn’t quite believe him.

“Bullshit,” she told him.

Hawk’s eyes widened a little before narrowing. Normally Tildy would be intimidated at his darkening gaze, but she’d had enough.

“That’s bullshit,” she repeated firmly. “I want it back. I need it back.”

Hawk snorted. “You need it back? How long did it take for you to even realize it was missing?”

Tildy’s mouth clamped shut and she ground her teeth together so hard it hurt. She was irritated with herself for not having noticed it when she left his bedroom. She was downright pissed that Hawk knew her well enough to guess that she’d gotten all the way home before realizing her mistake.

“Give it back,” she demanded.

Hawk stood before her, not moving. Tildy’s anger ignited into rage and she surged forward. She shoved him and had enough momentum behind her that he actually took a step back. Tildy felt smug in her minor victory and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t have all day to stand here,” she snapped.

Hawk, either by virtue of not caring as much as she did, or because his friends were all standing around staring at them, reached into his pocket and retrieved the ring. Tildy ripped it from his offered hand and spun on one high heel. Without a word she stomped back to her car and slammed the door again as she slid behind the wheel. She cranked the engine and pulled away.

She only made it to the end of the block before she heard a thundering engine behind her. She glanced in her rearview mirror to see Hawk on his Harley right behind her. Ignoring him, she waited for the light to turn green. Tildy stomped the accelerator, allowing the 455 German horses to sail her across the intersection. Unfortunately, Hawk followed right behind.

Tildy grabbed the wheel and yanked it left into the turn lane. She spun the wheel and took a hard left just as the next light changed to red. Hawk ignored the light altogether.

“Fuck!” Tildy shouted to no one in particular and slammed her hands on the steering wheel. She tamped down on the accelerator again and was now out gunning anyone else on the street. It would be short-lived though, she realized, as the light at the end of the block was already yellow. A large panel truck passed her in the opposite lane, and, on a whim, Tildy yanked the wheel left again and hit the gas. She rocketed around the truck and into an alley. She slammed on the brakes, half-hoping Hawk would crash into her, but he didn’t.

Tildy threw the car into park and surged out of the car. She didn’t bother to shut the door.

“What the fuck?” she shouted.

Hawk simply regarded her coolly.

Tildy stalked closer and repeated her question.

“Maybe I wasn’t done talking to you.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you’re done with me,” Tildy snapped back.

“You don’t decide shit for me,” he replied. Tildy felt a little satisfaction that he was finally getting as angry as she was.

“Fine! I’m done with you!” Despite this claim, Tildy approached the bike and the infuriating man who drove it. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed a handful of his shirt. She had intended to throw a punch, not that she’d ever done anything like that before since, truthfully, she didn’t even know how.

Perhaps Hawk sensed that he was about to get slapped at the very least, because he yanked her forward by her arm, causing her to stumble on her heels. The rage Tildy felt reached its peak; blood roared in her ears. Hawk had hurt her, would always hurt her, just like everyone else. She wanted to hit him, wanted more than anything to make him hurt as badly as she did.

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