Hawk (Sex and Bullets Book 2) (24 page)

My lips twitch. Storm’s girl is badass.

But Layla is gold. She’s honey and silk and concern and love and nobody compares to her. “I have to do it, Ray.”

“Bullshit. This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

And the doubts are back with a vengeance, circling like vultures. “Oh yeah? So we leave the Organization alone, to bring the world to its knees? No resistance? No fighting?”

“You aren’t the only person in this world, Hawk. I hate to break it to you, but you may not achieve anything today except lose your life if you go along with that plan. And then what about Layla? What about the baby?”

I bury my fingers in my hair and tug, because fuck, she’s voicing all my thoughts and all my fears. “Christ, Ray. So what, I step back and say to hell with it? Let someone else fight this battle because I have a girl I love? Don’t others, too?”

Her expression softens. “See, I knew you loved her. She loves you, too, you know.”

I close my eyes briefly, pain stabbing me through the chest. “Yeah? Well if she did, after today she probably doesn’t, not anymore.”

“You’re an idiot. You’re a frigging bastard.”

“Whoa.” I lift my hands. “Now what?”

“You accused her of something, didn’t you, Hawk? Of wanting something from you. She’s pregnant, for chrissakes. Have you got any idea how much worse everything hurts her now? How your words must have felt to her?”

“How come you’re on her side? You don’t know her, Raylin.”

“But you do. You’re in love with her. Or not? Am I missing something?”

No, she’s not missing anything. Dammit. I overreacted, that’s all. I fell back on my usual suspicions. I looked at her like I’d have looked at any chick who’d come to tell me she’s pregnant with my baby.

Thinking she’ll want child support. Compensation. One of my mansions. One of my yachts. Something.

She’d had hope in her eyes when she’d given me the test. Fear, also, and nervousness, but that bright spark of hope and happiness was there, and I chose to ignore it. I had no choice but to ignore it, lost in my own doubts and rattled by the unexpectedness of it.

“I need to apologize to her,” I whisper.

“Yes! Yes, you need to. And what about this suicide mission you’ve taken on? Will you drop it? She needs you, you know.”

I need her, too. The longer I stay far from her side, the emptier the world feels. Such a weird feeling.

Raylin is saying something, and I look up. “What?”

She comes closer, and I see the words form on her lips, “I said, ‘Aren’t you happy, Hawk? Happy you’ll become a daddy?’”

I am. There’s no stopping the grin spreading on my face, and Raylin giggles, then throws her arms around me and gives me a quick hug.

“I knew it. I knew you’d love it,” she says breathlessly, her eyes shining when she draws back. “Go tell her that. Tell her you love her, that you’re sorry, and for God’s sake, don’t go and get yourself killed, okay? Stay and protect them. Love them.”

Everything she says goes against my grandfather’s words. And everything in me wants to do what she says.

“I haven’t told anyone about this yet,” Raylin says. “It’s your announcement to make, but I’m sure the guys will be so happy for you, too.”

Nodding, I step past Raylin and start toward the bedroom and my future.

I’ll talk with Layla. Being together means joint decisions. It means discussing this together before I leave.

Before anything else.

***

My future is unclear. And that’s because Layla isn’t there. I mean, why should she be waiting for me, right? I was godawful to her, and then I walked out and sat in a meeting with Lopez instead of running back here and apologizing. Talking to her.

Fuck.

I check the bedroom, the bathroom, even the walk-in closet. Nada.

So I head back out and walk through the mansion, looking for her. She’s not in the TV room, or the kitchen. She’s not in the patio, or by the pool. I walk along the tennis court, cursing inside, the wind whipping my hair across my face.

“Layla? Where are you?” She has to be somewhere on the grounds. She’s probably nearby—so why do I feel cold in the pit of my stomach? Like it’s too fucking late? “Layla!”

Thirty minutes later, I’m back in the house and sick with worry. What if something has happened to her? What if she passed out somewhere, what if she fell and hit her head? Or hurt the baby? Or—

“Hawk, where did you go?” Rook is scowling at me from the living room door, the ever-present glass of scotch in his hand. I need to talk to him about that, he’s drinking too much—but that’s not my priority right now.

“Have you seen Layla?”

“No, man. Wasn’t she with you?”

“Fuck. No, and I’ve looked everywhere for her.”

“You’re worried.” Rook knocks back the rest of his scotch. “She’s here somewhere, buddy. You know that. She can’t leave. Storm’s orders.”

“I’m fucking serious, man. I can’t find her, and what if something happened to her? She’s been dizzy all these days, and…”

And now I know why. Neither Storm nor Rook know about Layla’s pregnancy, and dammit, I wanted to talk to her first, before telling everyone else.

This is so fucked up. Because I’m slowly getting so fucking excited—about the baby, about being with Layla, about the pieces of my life finally falling into place—and because I screwed up and may be the reason Layla may be lying hurt somewhere, hiding from me.

“Breathe, Hawk. We’ll find her.” He grabs my arm and shakes me. “Okay? We’ll find her. She can’t be far.”

But as it turns out, he’s wrong.

***

“Not on the premises? What the fuck does that mean?” Storm isn’t amused.

Then again neither am I. “The fucking chopper is gone, and so is she. Didn’t you tell your pilots nobody is to leave here?”

“Goddammit, Hawk, I told my pilots to do whatever my guests ask of them. All of you know not to leave here. We talked about it. She knows the risks.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s because we fought. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Raylin says, but that’s bull.

“She won’t tell anyone where we are,” I tell Storm, because I know this to be true. She’d never put us at risk, no matter how upset she is with me. “She just wanted to be as far away from me as possible.”

“Fucking hell. What did you do now?” Rook has this tired look on his face he always got when we were growing up, and I’d pull off something stupid. “Spill, bro.”

“Nothing, okay? We had an argument.”

“He told Layla he doesn’t believe the baby is his,” Raylin says, the traitor.

Silence spreads.

“The baby?” Storm stares at me as if I’m an impostor. “You knocked her up?”

“Yeah, well.” I glare back at all of them. “She told me she can’t have kids. And today she’s pregnant. I had a moment of confusion, okay?”

“Dude, she’s having your baby,” Rook says, “and instead of proposing with roses and shit, you argued with her?”

“Dammit, Rook.” I jab a finger at him. “Stop being a damn ass and put yourself in my place. She said she was on the pill. Then it turns out she wasn’t on the pill, because she can’t have kids. And then she’s pregnant.” I shoot to my feet and start pacing. “I lost it for a moment, okay? I was going back to apologize to her, and she’s gone. I can’t… Fuck.” I slam my fist into the wall. Then I slam it again and kick the wall for good measure. “Fuck this shit.”

Hands pull me away, and I struggle with them. The pain in my hand and foot felt good. My blood is burning in my veins.

“I fucked this up,” I snarl as Rook drags me to the sofa. “She left because I’m selfish. Because I’m paranoid. Because I can’t see a good thing when I have it. I didn’t tell her what she means to me. This is on me, goddammit. If anything happens to her or the baby…”

“Shut up, Hawk, and listen.” Storm gets in my face and grabs my shoulder, digging into bruises so hard I wince. “We’ll find her. I’m gonna call the chopper and tell them not to let her out, tell her you were being an idiot, that you’re on your knees begging her to come right back. Okay? It’ll be fine.”

I shake his hand off me and shove him backward. “Good,” is all I say, because hell, he’s right. Inside my head, I
am
on my knees, begging her to come back.

All I want is to have her back in my arms and make everything okay again.

Layla

During the short flight from Storm’s mansion back to Baltimore, I’m so nervous I’m nauseous. Fearing that at any moment the radio will crackle to life and Storm will demand that the chopper return. That the pilots will tell me they’re sorry, but they can’t let me get out of the chopper after all and that we’re going back.

Back where Hawk is. Hawk who is pissed off that I’m having his baby. Who doesn’t believe everything I told him. Who thinks I want money from him and that I’m playing a game.

I wrap one arm over my stomach protectively and start when I realize I’ve done it. This is crazy. Don’t know how much more of this joy mixed with sadness I can take. Never thought I’d have a baby with Hawk. Never thought I’d fall for Hawk so completely.

Never thought he’d break my heart so utterly.

It’s not Dorothy I want to see. Not my mom I want to talk to. It’s him.

But he doesn’t trust me. Doesn’t love me, although he talked about dating, and a family. He was the one lying. He lied to me. He pretended to want me.

Why? Was he just toying with me? After all we went through this week?

It feels like years have passed. I feel old. I feel tired.

I miss him already, miss what I thought had sparked between us, and if I don’t distract myself I’ll start bawling. How would I explain that to the chopper pilots?

Thank God, we’re soon landing on top of the Jordan Tower, on a small helipad, and the younger pilot hops out and helps me down. He takes a plastic name tag that simply says GUEST of JORDAN ENTERPRISES on it and passes it to me.

“Wear this, Ms. Green. You need it to use the elevator to go down. Just swipe it over the magnetic sensor beside each locked door to open it. Please be back in two hours, and keep your phone on in case we need to leave earlier.”

“Sure.” Oh God, he looks all serious and earnest, and I hate myself for lying to him.

I really hope he won’t get in trouble because of my little stunt. I also hope they will see the note I left for Hawk in my seat on the chopper when they get back without me.

“Take care, Ms. Green. Remember not to tell anyone where you are staying.”

At least I can promise this much.

“Of course I won’t tell anyone,” I say and turn around quickly, to hide my burning face. “See you in two hours.”

And I hurry away as fast as I dare, hoping it doesn’t look like I’m running, which is what I want to do.

***

I try calling Dorothy again, and again it goes to voicemail.

What the hell, huh?

I’ve managed to traverse vertically the Jordans’ tower of glass and steel, and now I’m standing tucked inside the entrance of a clothes store, trying Dorothy again.

“Come on, come on.” I can’t go to my apartment, in case it’s being watched. I’ll have to meet her someplace else, at a coffee shop or something.

My cell vibrates with a text message, and I disconnect to read it.

It’s from Dorothy. It reads, “Can’t talk right now. Really need to see you. Meet me at Starbucks on York road? Lots to tell you.”

“I doubt it’s more than I need to tell you,” I huff, though I’m kind of worried. Dorothy never gets into trouble. She’s the careful, quiet one of the two of us.

I send back a “sure” and almost immediately my phone starts trilling with a call. Frowning, I lift it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Layla? Babe, where the hell are you?” God, it’s Hawk. My stomach twists. “What the hell are you doing? Come back, I—”

I press disconnect, and the back of my throat burns with tears. “Screw you,” I whisper and step out onto the street to hail a cab. “Screw all of you rich boys.”

Biting into my trembling lower lip, I climb into the first cab that stops and give the cabbie directions. Then I lean back in my seat, exhausted.

My phone keeps ringing, so I mute the sound. Glancing at it, I discover ten text messages waiting, from the same number Hawk called me.

I turn my phone off and shove it into my purse, because right now I could scream and throw my phone out of the window. I’m shaking, and my eyes burn.

Hearing his voice has broken me a little bit more, and I’m in so many pieces I don’t know how I can go on.

***

The cabbie leaves me right outside the Starbucks in the half-empty parking lot. I pay him through the window, and he drives away.

Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I glance around, feeling an itch between my shoulder blades, as if someone’s watching me.

Weird.

I walk toward the entrance of the shop, when someone steps out from a parked black car and grabs my arm.

“Please come with me, Layla,” he says, and the use of my name throws me for a moment, the shock locking my muscles.

“Who are you? Are you with Dorothy?” He nods, but he’s dragging me to the black car, and I dig my heels in, my brain ticking again. “Stop. Let me go. Help!”

He pushes me into the car, and another guy is there. He grabs me and holds me down while the first guy climbs behind the wheel and drives away. I scream, and the guy’s hold on me tightens.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he says in a quiet, deadly voice, and I still, suddenly remembering I’m not alone anymore. It’s not just my body.

I must protect my baby.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, not moving a muscle. “Where’s Dorothy? Is she okay?”

The man says nothing and drives on in silence that stuffs my ears and turns my heartbeat into a horror movie soundtrack in my ears.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

How did they find me? Where is Dorothy? How did this happen?

And above all, what am I going to do?

Keep quiet for now, I guess, and still, not giving them an excuse to hurt me. A thought strikes me then. If these are Sandivar’s people, they took me to get to Hawk. It’s not me they want.

Which means they might kill me if Hawk doesn’t take the bait.