Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (19 page)

“On the table by the front door.” She jumps from her chair and sprints out toward the living room. I hear her answer the phone and her muffled replies to whomever is on the other end of the line. She reappears with her phone in her hand a minute later and offers me an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, that was one of my contacts for a story I am working on. I really needed to speak with him.”

“What’s the story?” I ask, setting my silverware down on my empty plate.

She hasn’t spoken much about her work, but I have been reading her articles religiously since the day she charged into my office. They’re good. She’s an excellent writer and investigator. She doesn’t back down from a difficult story, and she certainly isn’t afraid to write things some people may not want to hear. She has ethics, and, in this day and age, that’s something almost impossible to find. I do worry, though, that some of the topics she tackles could put her in hot water with some unsavory individuals.

“Oh, just something I’ve been working on for a while. Not sure where it’s going, if anywhere, at this point. This contact is essential to my story, but he’s a bit squirrelly.”

My heart jumps and unease overtakes me.

“What do you mean squirrelly?”

Sighing heavily, she leans her forearms onto the table and looks up at me, her annoyance apparent. “I can’t really get into it, but basically he knows his life is in danger by talking to me, and even though I swore I would protect his identity, he has been waffling about getting me the information I need. I have to go meet with him tonight.”

“Life is in danger? What kind of shit have you gotten yourself into? You aren’t going alone, are you?” I ask, the anger in my voice a little more prevalent than I intended.

She glares at me and shoves away from the table. “I’m doing my job. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Like you did last night?

Thankfully, I manage to rein in the desire to point out her state less than twelve hours ago. “I’m sure you can, but is it really safe for you to be meeting with this guy in person? Alone?”

She yanks her plate from the table and storms over to me, her lips pressed together into a fierce scowl. Stopping next to me, she reaches out and grabs my plate, turning to the kitchen without a word.

Yikes.

She’s fuming mad.

I think we’re having our first fight.

The plates clank in the dishwasher and she slams the door shut, finally looking over at me again. “I managed to make it through the past three years at my job unscathed. I don’t need you second-guessing me and acting like my goddamn father.”

Acting like her father? Is that really what I’m doing? Maybe I am overstepping my bounds here.

Her dad died when she was so young, she’s had to take care of herself for a long time. Maybe I’m not giving her enough credit.

“Look,” I say, holding my hands up in resignation, “I’m sorry if it came across that way. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them again, the anger is gone, replaced by something I hope is affection. She circles the counter and walks over to me. Leaning down, she places a quick kiss on my lips before backing away.

“I’ll be fine. I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

She disappears around the corner and the front door opens and clicks shut. Dropping my head into my hands, I groan.

This morning has already been filled with more drama and mindfucks than I’ve faced in a long time. I’ve apparently completely forgotten how to be with a woman without having a mental breakdown or pissing her off. This is not a good way to start things with Danika.

It’s like the tiny amount of hope I built is already caving in around me.

“So, what the hell happened?”

It isn’t a question. It’s more of a whiny demand for information from Caroline. I’d barely set foot in my apartment when my phone rang. Ignoring Caroline is useless. Plus, she has a key to my place, and if I hadn’t answered, she would probably show up here demanding the rundown of last night’s events if I hadn’t picked up her call.

“Well, I went to the club…”

“Did you wear that mini-skirt?”

Thank GOD, yes!
Wearing that skirt was probably the best decision I made last night. It certainly made for easy access and, hell, I will never complain about that.

“Yes, now do you want to know what happened or not?” I drop my purse on the couch and head for my bedroom to get changed for my meeting with Paul. He better show up. I don’t have time for his wishy-washy promises and zero results.

She sighs and I know she’s rolling her eyes at me. “Ugh, yes, of course, I just wanted to know what you were wearing. Very important information, you know.”

“Well, I wore the skirt and that sparkly top.” Which I just realized I left at Savage’s when I ran out of there this morning.

Caroline whistles. “Damn, you were really going for it.”

“I was, and, it worked. I spent the night with him.”

Her squeal is so high-pitched and shockingly loud, I have to hold the phone away from my ear so I don’t lose my hearing.

“Was it totally amazing? Was his cock as beautiful in person as it was in the videos?”

I wish I knew.

I turn on speakerphone and drop it on the bed so I can change while talking. “Uh, yeah, it was.”

Shit.

I hate lying, but she wouldn’t understand. I’m not sure I understand, but I’m not going to complain after what he did to me.

FUCK, he has an amazing mouth. And a man who only worries about my pleasure is certainly something new and intriguing.

“You don’t sound very excited.”

I hate that she knows me so well, and that I’m such a shitty liar. This calls for my best dodging skills. “I’m just in the middle of something, Care. I have to change and go meet a source and I don’t have much time.”

“Fine, but call me when you’re done. I want a detailed play-by-play. You know I live vicariously through your escapades, and after all the shit you and Savage have gone through to finally get here, I’m entitled to some deets.”

Now I’m the one rolling my eyes while I pull out a pair of jeans and yank them on. “Okay, I’ll call you later.”

By the time I’m changed and on my way to meet Paul, I’m already fifteen minutes late.

Shit, shit, shit. I hope he’s still there.

He chose the meeting place and Louis Armstrong Park is another ten minutes from me. When he’s already so nervous about what he’s doing, keeping him waiting is the
last
thing I want to do, but when I try to call him to tell him I’m running late, it goes straight to voicemail. I try several more times before I finally pull into the parking lot and take off toward the remote corner of the park he indicated.

Please be here. Please be here.

I arrive a full half-hour after our meeting time and don’t see him anywhere. In fact, I don’t see anyone. This area of the park is deserted at this hour, and I can see why he would choose it as a safe location. The chances of us being seen together here are slim.

My heart sinks.
I fucking blew it! All because I wanted to blow Savage…and that didn’t even happen!

I’m not prepared to sacrifice my career to put his worries at ease. He overreacted this morning and, for a minute, I was tempted to storm out still pissed at him. But, the genuine concern in his eyes broke my will to remain defiant and I can’t
really
say I blame him for being apprehensive about me meeting a mysterious (to him) source.

He doesn’t know Paul. I do. I trust him. Paul is the guy; I know he can get me what I need. He’s been working for Abello for ten years in various capacities. As far as I can tell, he never dirties his hands with anything too bad; Abello has a few right-hand goons who take care of his truly filthy work. But Paul is trusted, and that’s exactly what I need, someone on the inside.

A loud cough off to my left draws my attention to a stand of trees. I wander over there, trying to look as casual as possible just in case anyone is watching. Paul is leaning against a large tree, smoking a cigarette and looking around nervously.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry. I got hung up. I tried to call.”

He drops the butt and smashes it under his boot. “Turned my phone off. Don’t want to be tracked.”

Tracked?

“You think he can do that?” A shrug is his only response. Silence lingers between us and I finally break it. The less time we are out here, the safer we will be. “Do you have something for me?” He was supposed to be looking for contracts, messages, anything that would confirm meetings and deals between Dunne and Abello.

Please have it. I really fucking need this.

He looks to the ground briefly and he shakes his head. “No, couldn’t get into the office without being noticed.”

“Shit.” Why did he need to meet with me if he doesn’t have anything? I glance around again, suddenly wary of being out here alone with a member of the mob. “Um, so why did you want to meet?”

He paces in front of me and pulls a slip of paper from his jacket pocket, holding it out to me. I reach out and grab it.

It’s a Post-it note…with my name on it.

My throat constricts and my knees wobble slightly. “Where did you get this?”

His concern-laced eyes find mine. “It was on the floor outside the office. It must have been stuck to something and fallen off.”

“Christ…did you hear anyone mention my name?”

He shakes his head but the worry in his gaze tells me it doesn’t matter. The fact my name is there at all is enough for me to essentially have a target on my back.

“So, you don’t know what he suspects or if he knows I’m looking into him?”

“No, I don’t, but you know what this means. You should back off. This is going to get us both killed.”

Back off? Never!

I don’t care if Abello has my name or suspects what I’m up to. I’m not going to stop doing what I know is right. I just need that information to get Abello out of the picture for good. I chew on my thumbnail and pace in front of him. “Do you think you can still get into the office?”

“What? Didn’t you hear what I just said? He has your fucking name!”

“And I know what I’m doing, Paul. I’m not giving this up.”

He grunts and curses under his breath. “You’re fucking crazy, lady.”

He has no idea.

I laugh. “Maybe I am. So, can you try again?”

A reluctant sigh seeps from his lips. “Maybe. Dom is gone next week and will be taking a lot of the men with him.”

My ears perk up and I stop pacing. “Gone? Gone where?”

“Not sure. All I know is something about going to an important meeting.”

An important meeting can only mean one thing—something big is coming. Abello controls New Orleans and the surrounding areas completely, and if he’s at a meeting, odds are it’s to direct his lackeys in some sadistic plot or organize something big.

“Okay, see what you can find out about his trip and get into that office. I really need this, Paul.”

He stands up to his full height and growls lowly. I’m sure it’s meant to be intimidating, but I don’t back down from him.

“You need this? What about me, Danika? I’m putting my ass on the line here, and he already knows something is going on. He’s probably already on the lookout for a snitch.”

“I know you are, Paul. But you are also doing it for yourself and you know it. You need Abello gone before you will ever be able to walk away, so don’t pretend this is altruistic. Just be careful and get me the info as soon as possible. The sooner this is over, the better it is for both of us.”

His glare bores into me, but I don’t look away. He huffs and reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigarette box. “I’ll see what I can do,” he mumbles as he ambles away from me, lighting up a fresh stick as he goes.

A week. I just need to wait a week and I should have what I need…from Paul, at least.