Hawk (Sex and Bullets Book 2) Page 3

  And why aren’t the police swarming the city, looking for him? Why didn’t I see his face on the news, as a missing person? He’s an important man, a rich man.

  What’s going on here?

  A clang inside the warehouse makes me flinch. Shivering, I bolt back to the door and stop before I open it. Glance back at him.

  What did you do, Hawk? What exactly did you do to get into this mess?

  I shake my head. “I’m coming back,” I whisper, knowing he can’t hear me, and creep outside.

  Chapter Three

  Hawk

  This time, passing from deep sleep to wakefulness comes with a bang. No memory of dreams, no images of Hot Body, no restful happy dreams to make up for the fucking pain that screams down my arms as I jerk against bonds I’d forgotten about.

  Fucking shit.

  I groan, trying to lift my head that’s heavy as a boulder, tugging on my hands. They’re bound behind my back—and that makes me frown, because I’m pretty fucking sure… Yeah, I’m sure they were tied above my head before.

  I blink my crusted lashes and lick my cracked lips with a tongue that feels three times its size.

  Someone’s crouched in front of me, and my body instinctively braces for more pain. Nothing happens. A heartbeat passes. Two. Three. The harsh overhead lights catch on the silk of a dark suit, a burgundy shirt cuff.

  Graduating to those higher in the hierarchy? Is this the infamous Boss we’ve all been impatiently waiting for?

  Lifting my head a fraction more, gritting my teeth against the blinding pain that’s slamming inside my skull like a rogue bullet, I face the suited-up asshole.

  Goatee, of course, because that’s a must with evil bosses. Scar in lip, check. And sunglasses.

  Hiding his identity?

  “The evil overlord, I presume?” I croak, and fucking hell, even the sound of my voice makes me wince. “Or are you his ass-wiper?”

  Goddamn headache. Won’t even let me have my fun without just about killing me.

  Worth it, though. Especially when the asshole’s mouth twists, and he grabs my already abused jaw in a hard grip.

  “If the Boss wasn’t coming here today, I’d break every bone in your goddamn body,” he hisses. “Your family destroyed mine, but now, dickhead… now you’ll see the other side. You don’t know what you’ve stumbled into.”

  “You are his ass-wiper,” I decide. “And he tells you jack about business.”

  He releases me, pushing me backward, and gets up, turning away from me and beckoning at someone I can’t see. “You! What the fuck are you doing? Get your ass over here.”

  That’s it. Rattling them. Getting through their fake cool. Shaking them up until they spill information they didn’t mean to spill.

  I smirk despite the pounding in my head, and the nausea churning in my stomach. Fuck, I need water. And food. And I need to piss so badly my gut aches.

  They need me alive, I reassure myself, because, hell, how long have I been here, tied up and beaten? They need me alive, and they lowered my hands. I can feel my fingers now, and I wiggle them to make sure.

  Yeah. I’m okay. It’ll be okay.

  Hold on. Breathe. Keep calm. Find out why you’re here. How deep the shit you’ve landed in this time is.

  And… it’s pretty damn deep, I realize, when Elliot saunters toward me dangling a piece of black cloth from his fingers, a knowing smirk on his stupid face.

  A blindfold.

  Ah fuck. I should have expected it, perhaps, and it’s not a bad sign. It’s a sign they do want me alive, if they won’t show me the Boss’s face—but me and blindfolds… not good.

  I fight the impulse to kick and punch and head-butt the motherfucker leaning over me to put the cloth over my eyes, reminding myself that getting more hurt isn’t a good idea. It won’t stop them blindfolding me, and maybe they don’t want me dead, but accidents do happen.

  I let Elliot the stooge cover my eyes, take away my sight, and vow to introduce my fist to his face once I’ve met the boss and figured out how to get out of these bonds.

  In the new, imperfect darkness, I track their presence by sound. Faint steps to my right. A cough to my right—or is it a question? The familiar whine of the door opening, then slamming.

  You heard that. You’re not helpless.

  Don’t let the panic in. It’s just a piece of cloth over your eyes, dammit. It will come off, soon. You’ve not gone blind. This isn’t any different from lying in the dark at night, unable to sleep and imagining monsters. No different in fact than the past two days you’ve spent here—is it two days?

  Yeah, well, good luck telling that to my treacherous mind. It knows the monsters here are real.

  My pulse is thundering in my ears as I strain to hear what’s happening around me. Strain to see something through the cloth, even though I know it’s a lost battle.

  Heavy steps, a whisper I don’t catch, the scrape of something—a chair?—on the floor, a muffled cough—and a hush.

  Oh hell. My heart is banging around my chest. No sight, no sound. I hate this. I totally fucking hate this, I ha—

  “Jamie Fleming.” The voice is bass, booming, just inches from my face, and I flinch back, hitting my throbbing head against the pillar once again.

  Fuck.

  “Get him some water,” the guy says, and I struggle to hold myself still and slow down my frantic breathing.

  Something cool is pressed to my lips, water sloshing, and I drink greedily, choking on it.

  The cup is taken away far too soon, but at least my tongue is not swollen and stuck to the roof of my mouth anymore, and my throat isn’t burning.

  Goddammit, focus, Hawk. This is the moment you find out what you’re here for. Breathe.

  “Now, Mr. Fleming.” The bass voice resonates through me, makes my bones ache. “Let’s get down to business.”

  “What, you’re not buying me dinner first?” I bare my teeth at the invisible source of the voice.

  “You should stop joking.”

  “You shouldn’t have kidnapped me.” I cock my head to the side, glad now for the blindfold that’s hiding my barely suppressed panic. “I mean, are you out of your fucking minds? Did you think you could just remove me from my HQ and nobody would notice? That this would go unpunished?”

  “And has anyone come for you yet?” he shoots back. “Can you hear police sirens? No. I’ve taken care of it. Nobody is looking for you, Hawk.”

  Ice seeps into my veins. I lick my lips as my mind whirs. “What the fuck did you do?”

  “What I had to do in order to have a civilized conversation with you.”

  A sharp laugh escapes me. Good one. “What. The fuck. Did you do?”

  Don’t let him rattle you. He’s good at this. But so are you.

  “Had my secretary inform yours that an important meeting out of town came up. They won’t look for you for a couple days more. Plenty of time for a chat.”

  My secretary has been instructed to expect a code word to confirm changes in plans that cause my absence. Ergo she must have informed my head of security that something’s wrong.

  I draw in air, let it out slowly. “I see.”

  “Do you, Mr. Fleming? Jamie. How many names do you have? How many games are you playing?”

  I’d shrug, but my arms are almost wrenched out of their sockets.

  “You know why you’re here,” he goes on.

  “Do I?”

  A pause. “You put your parents in prison, Hawk.”

  “So they’re friends of yours?”

  “Friends. Colleagues.”

  “And you want revenge?”

  “Revenge?” He laughs, his laughter as deep as his voice. “I don’t want revenge. I told you. I want to do business.”

  My heart booms. “Go on.”

  “The Organization, Hawk. Your parents were important assets. You took them out of the picture. You lost me good money.”

  Holy shit. Yeah, baby. Yeah!

  I ch
uckle, and I bet he can’t understand why I’m grinning like an idiot, my split lip opening and dripping hot blood down my chin and into my beard.

  It’s because I’m right where I should be.

  “I fail to see what’s funny in this situation,” the man growls.

  Of course he does. And I need to calm down before I blow this. He’s right, anyway. It’s not funny.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, licking the salty-sweet blood off my lips.

  “You don’t need my name, boy. Not until you’ve committed yourself. Proven yourself.”

  “What makes you think I’ll ever do that? I turned in my parents, remember?”

  “I know what you did. And why.”

  Yeah. He thinks he knows why. He thinks he’s got me figured out.

  “The Organization is everything in this city, on this coast. In this country.” He pauses. “We’re on the same page, right? You know all about this, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “I don’t care if the Organization crashes and burns.”

  It’s the truth, and this is the role I’ve chosen in this story. Keep in character, Hawk.

  “And I’m here to change your mind.”

  “Oh, is that why you’re treating me so well? I knew the luxury of this place was a set-up.”

  A stinging slap knocks my head to the side.

  Ow.

  “I told your father he spoiled you too much. I don’t think you’ve grasped the gravity of the situation.”

  Oh I have, trust me. “That so?”

  “Listen, boy. Assuming you can control your father’s company and not drive it into the ground in a matter of months, assuming you can fill his shoes… it is my duty to explain to you what your options are. You do what you’re told, or we’re gonna shut your business down in no time. We’re gonna squash you. Pull strings to put you to prison and scatter your inheritance to the winds.”

  Ooh. So scary. And subtle much? So this is what they wanted. As expected. For me to become my dad. To take his place in the Organization.

  Does he really think I betrayed my dad, that I put him behind bars, to take his throne? That I am so greedy I couldn’t wait, and I found a way to shove my dad away and become king in his place?

  “Unless you decide to work with us,” he goes on, his voice softer, and damn hard to hear. “Willingly. Eagerly. There are great rewards for those who join our ranks willingly. Your parents knew that. They built their empire with our help.”

  I think I just threw up in my mouth. The empire I inherited is built on corruption, filth and lies—and although I’ve known this for months, ever since Storm and his girl, Raylin, uncovered this whole bloody mess behind our families, hearing it stated so matter-of-factly makes me sick to my stomach.

  “I’m not interested, damn you.” And I’m still in role. Don’t give in too easily. Play the game.

  “You should take me up on my offer while you’re ahead,” he says, his voice dropping again, and I wonder why I have trouble hearing him again. “Before I lose my patience and let Elliot and Johnny here to do as they damn well please with you. I’ve kept them in check until now.”

  And veiled threats, check.

  “I’m not afraid of your thugs, Boss. You’re the Boss, aren’t you?”

  A kick against my legs wrenches a gasp of pain from me.

  Fuck.

  “Sleep on it, Hawk. Think of my kindness. You took your parents out of the picture, and don’t think for one moment that I can’t do the same with you. Heir of an empire, that matters none to the Organization. You’re all disposable. We’ve already located a cousin to be crowned heir after your body is found in a ditch by the roadside. Join us, or else, got it?”

  Got it. Open threats now, huh? I’ve got him where I want him—on his toes, trying to figure me out.

  The plan is in motion.

  Then of course he returns the favor, rattling me when he presses something to my cheek. I can’t keep from flinching.

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Of course you didn’t.” The small, cold object digs into my cheek, and I wonder what the hell he’s doing, until I know with sudden clarity and feel cold.

  “Fuck,” I hiss.

  “Yeah. Lost this, did you? That what you thought? In the struggle when we brought you here? But there was no struggle. We drugged you and picked you up, packaged you and delivered you.”

  I say nothing. Fuck him.

  “A hearing aid. Small enough to hide under your hair. You haven’t told anyone, have you? Not even your friends. That you’re half-deaf.”

  I’m not half-deaf. I’m partially deaf, and also damn angry. I’ll bash his fucking head in, first chance I get.

  “I’ll be back tonight,” he says, close to my ear, and I’m torn between gratefulness that I hear what he says and blinding fury. “Last chance. I suggest you take it.”

  I close my eyes and slump back. Man, this is turning out to be much harder than I signed up for, and I need to make it work, no matter the cost.

  Remember your plan. Remember you need to get out of this alive. So suck it up, Hawk, and play.

  Your move.

  ***

  Time drags. I shift on the cold floor, trying to ease the pain in my joints. My stomach is twisting up, trying to swallow itself. I’m not used to going hungry. Not used to the unrelenting burn of thirst and the pain in my head, in my arms and legs. Not even back when I lived with my grandpa and he beat his brand of discipline into me, on the principle that if it hurt I wouldn’t forget what he told me.

  No, this is a brand new experience. How many millionaires get to experience such interesting things? Go, me. I’m so fucking lucky.

  I drift in and out of uneasy sleep. In my dreams, my parents stare at me, accusation in their eyes. See what you did to us, they whisper. Put us in prison. Betrayed us, our only son. There’s a hell for children who betray their parents, did you know that, Jamie Fleming?

  Did you know you’re going to burn in hell?

  I wake up with a gasp when someone decides to use me as a punching bag again, and I wonder dimly if the Boss knows and approves of his thugs banging me up some more before I make up my mind about joining him.

  Probably not, I decide when Elliot comes running and drags the guy off me. “Christ, Johnny, you moron. Boss wants him alive. What part of that don’t you get?”

  Johnny-boy shoves at me until the ropes bite into my wrists and ankles hard. “He’s not gonna play along. Can’t you see that he’s a cheat? He’s playing us all.”

  Damn. Johnny-boy is turning out to be too suspicious and too spot-on for comfort.

  “Taking off the blindfold would make me more agreeable to your boss’s fucking proposal,” I grumble, and it annoys me that the silence that follows bothers me. “Would help me decide in favor.” I draw a deep breath and damn but my ribs ache. “He is the big boss, isn’t he?”

  Fuck, I need them to move, talk, hell even beat me. I hate not knowing what’s going on.

  And then it gets worse because Elliot whips out another rag and gags me.

  Goddammit!

  “Let him think, then,” Elliot mutters, or I think he does as their steps move away from me.

  “Take off the blindfold!” I yell from behind the gag, but of course I get no reply to my garbled words.

  The door slams.

  Hell.

  Deep breaths. It’s fine. Okay, so I didn’t expect them to starve me and let me shrivel from thirst if these are the people who want my cooperation—but I should know better. I’ve dealt with the Chinese mafia, for chrissakes. Why should I expect that civilized people would lead this violent, all-powerful Organization?

  Power strips all pretense, strips people of their humanity, their kindness, their empathy, as history has demonstrated time and again. A man who says he can replace me by some unknown cousin, who can kidnap me and be confident no repercussions will touch him, is not constrained by societal rules.

  Or morals. Or remo
rse.

  Like a snake, I think, trying to spit out the gag, tugging uselessly on my bonds. A born predator, unaware of the destruction he causes.

  Like my parents. Like Rook’s parents. Got Storm’s parents killed. Got Storm almost killed. Plowed through countless people’s lives for money and riches and power.

  Game on.

  The Organization has its tentacles everywhere. There’s no way to know where they reach.

  Unless you infiltrate it. Enter it. And what better way to get inside than to be caught? Wait, don’t answer that. Storm and Rook already gave me a piece of their mind on the subject—but it’s me the Organization heads wants. Me they hate. And they’ll have to deal with me, negotiate, and probably not kill me. Not immediately. Not unless it serves a purpose.

  So I stand a good chance of finding out something.

  I just need to keep my cool. No matter how bad things look, it’s all going according to plan. According to my plan, I repeat to myself as something clangs overhead and a door slams somewhere inside the building.

  I cling to the faint sounds and work on keeping my calm.

  I will stall, prod them for info, find out as much as I can, lull them into believing I am considering their offer and their threats—and hope that the cavalry will be here soon.

  Chapter Four

  Layla

  “Hey, Laylay,” Dorothy says over the phone, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re back! How was New York? When are you coming home?”

  Dorothy is my roommate and bestie, and I am about to take advantage of her. I do that often.

  “Hey, Dodo.” I look up through my car window, at the café where she works. “New York was fine, but I need your help.”

  “Something happen?” Her voice changes, goes high and worried. “Where are you—”

  “Calm down. It’s nothing bad.” I clear my throat. “Look, I need a personality swap, ASAP.”

  “A what?”

  “Your clothes, your car, everything. Will you help me out?”

  A long pause. “That depends. How drunk are you this time?”

  “Not drunk. I need to spy on my dad.”

  “You what?”

  “Well, not only on him. But I need to spy on him, and the guys in his warehouse, and…” How much can I tell her? “Hey, did you see anything on the news about Hawk?”