Page 4 of Hawkeye

Her eyes lifted to mine. “Don’t what?”

“Apologize.” I let my gaze move over her face before settling on her eyes again. “Keep going, baby doll. I like your voice, and you’re damn pretty when your eyes light up like that.”

The color already warming her cheeks deepened and spread across the skin visible above her square neckline. Pleasure softened her expression before embarrassment tried to cover it, but she could not hide the little dimple that appeared beside her mouth. My cock throbbed at the sight, and I shifted against the edge of the desk while she stared down at the brass corner beneath her thumb.

“What’s your name?”

“Josephine Talbot.” She tucked a loose wave behind one ear. “But everyone calls me Josie.”

“Josie,” I repeated, watching another blush rise.

She drew in a shallow breath, and the box lifted against her tits. I wanted it out of the way, her pants around her ankles with her top shoved high enough for me to see how far the color traveled when I put my mouth on her. But Stryker was on his way, and I had known her for less than twenty minutes, so I kept my hands to myself and asked her about the engraved road name instead.

A knock sounded before she finished answering, and Stryker entered, Judge behind him. Our president’s gaze swept across the room. One brow shifted slightly, but he kept whatever conclusion he reached about my position between her and the door to himself.

Josie stood and carefully set the box on the desk. She released two small brass catches and swung the glass front open, leaving every item mounted in place while exposing the challenge coin near the lower corner. Stryker leaned closer, his expression sharpening as he read the road name engraved along its edge.

“Sentinel,” he murmured. “Haven’t heard that name in years.”

“You recognize it?” Josie asked.

“The road name.” Stryker took out his phone and photographed the coin and the number engraved on the reverse. “Cipher will confirm the rest.”

“Cipher?” Josie questioned.

“Tech,” I replied.

Judge studied the contents without touching them. “How did it reach the auction house?”

“We don’t know yet,” Josie admitted. “The estate paperwork covers the antique box and the older medal group, but it doesn’t identify Sentinel or explain how his belongings became part of the collection. Until we establish that connection, Wynnock won’t catalog it.”

Stryker’s phone vibrated less than a minute later. He read the message, then turned the screen toward Judge. “Kenny Simon. Coin and membership number both match. He moved away from Sable Canyon years ago and died last month.”

Josie reached into her bag and removed the inspection form. “I’ll need the legal name, your confirmation of the road name and number, and your signature.”

Stryker supplied the information while she filled the lines in neat handwriting. When she finished, she turned the clipboard toward him and tapped the marked space with one finger. Judge glanced at the paper as Stryker accepted the pen, and one corner of his mouth hitched upward.

“You made the prez sign for looking at it?”

“It’s worth more than my car.”

I had no idea what she drove yet, but the car had just volunteered for an inspection. If it turned out to be a little tin can with worn tires and outdated safety equipment, it was gone. “We’re replacing that car.”

Josie turned her head and stared at me. “That was not remotely the point.”

“It just became one.”

Fresh heat spread to her cheeks as Judge looked away to hide his amusement. Stryker signed the form and handed it back, his attention returning to the open shadow box. The coin might not have been as valuable as the rest of the items in the shadow box, but it carried a dead brother’s name and history. Its appearance in an unexplained consignment was Black Crowns business, whether the club owned it or not.

“I’ll contact Simon’s daughter tonight,” Stryker told Josie. “She’ll know whether the family authorized a sale.”

“The box is returning to Wynnock’s vault until ownership is resolved.” She closed the glass front and secured the catches. “Nothing inside will be cataloged or disturbed.”

Stryker nodded. “Call Hawkeye as soon as the family meeting is arranged.”

Josie looked toward me at the road name, then caught herself and returned her attention to Stryker. “I’ll notify my director.”

I grinned because underneath the haughty tone, the pink on her cheeks had deepened and that cute little dimple was popping.