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This can’t be good. Not good at all, and I remember what Dad said about Hawk’s ties to the mafia.
Shit. I stare at Hawk’s still form, scared to touch him, scared to find out he’s already dead.
But he’s not, right? That guy, Johnny, said he wanted to roughen him up some more, but the other one told him not to kill him.
These people want something from him. And I should back off. Dad was right. This is dangerous. I should stay out of it.
But I can’t help stepping close to Hawk. I kneel by his side, sweep his hair back. His face is slack, a trail of blood slipping from his mouth, dying his short beard red.
His chest is rising and falling, though, and that’s the main thing. He’s alive.
A weight lifts off my chest even as fear settles deeper in my bones, ice-cold claws that won’t let go.
He’s still alive, and the Boss wants him that way. To talk to him, I guess. Why would the Boss care if Hawk deals with the mafia? How dare my dad’s boss kidnap a man like Hawk?
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.”
