Hawk (Sex and Bullets Book 2) (18 page)

I bet I’ll know the kitchen when I see it, right? Can’t be that much different from that of normal people.

I
hope
.

My stomach rumbles as I go down a short flight of stairs and find myself in a spacious… hall? What do you call an empty space with more bay windows and paintings hanging on the walls?

No, not paintings, I realize when I pass in front of one and stop. Photographs.

Huge, black and white photographs of people. Parts of people. Parts of faces, and bodies, and things. Grainy, their texture like oil, like liquid metal.

Breathtaking.

I look for a signature at the bottom, and I find it in the right hand corner.

JHFleming.

I blink. Jamie Hawk Fleming.
Jesus.
I didn’t know he took pictures. Such amazing, striking pictures. He’s an artist.

One more new facet to the guy I thought I knew. He’s courageous, and selfless, and kind of crazy but also crazy-brave, and artistic, and sexy.

Stop it, Layla. It doesn’t matter.

Doesn’t matter if he’s fascinating in every way that counts, if he’s so much more than you imagined him to be.

He’s not yours.

Shaking my head to clear it, I wander among his photos, and could have stayed there forever if not for the hunger gnawing at my insides.

But hunger wins out.

***

It looks like a kitchen. It has counters and a fridge and an oven.

It has to be a kitchen.

Right?
Despite its overwhelming cleanness, the shine of the counters, the spotlessness of the table in the middle.

Uneasy, way out of my element, I wander over to the shiny silver fridge and pull the door open.

Ah.
Food. I’m in the right place.
Yay!

Bread. Jam. Butter. Cheese. My mouth waters as I plunk everything on the counter and hunt for a plate and a butter knife.

I hope Storm won’t mind me eating his food. If he were around, I’d ask him, but I don’t know where he is, and he won’t miss a slice of bread and cheese, right?

Not like he’s poor or anything.

I’ve just barely managed to butter one slice of bread, and I’ve dipped my knife into the jam, when someone clears their throat behind me.

I swear I jump two feet off the floor, my heart in my throat. You’d think I was stealing diamonds, not a slice of bread.

Spinning around, my back to the counter, I prepare to defend my actions.

It’s a girl. She seems to be about my age, very pretty, with dark hair and eyes.

“Hi,” she says and flashes me a faint smile. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Raylin.” At my uncomprehending look, she says, “Storm’s girlfriend.”

Oh. Right.
“Um. Nice to meet you. I was… uh, hungry.”

And why am I so nervous?

“Oh, sorry, go ahead! I’m hungry, too.” She pats her stomach and makes a face. “Mind if we share?”

“What? Oh not at all.” As long as we don’t share Hawk.

And what in the frigging hell, Layla? She has a boyfriend. Besides, is that the green-eyed monster I saw peeking over the table top?

Can it. Get something to eat. Calm the heck down.

“I convinced Storm to keep some basics in his fridge and send the chef home once in a while. Sometimes nothing beats a sandwich.” Raylin grabs the bread and a plate and lays on the butter thick. Then she does the same with the jam, and I follow her example, because hey, she lives here.

These must be the house rules.

“How’s Hawk?” she asks.

“Still out. He’s tired.” Although he has staggering stamina for sex, as I’ve discovered, even when bruised and bleeding.

“Glad you both came out okay. Storm was going out of his mind with worry. He’d never admit it, but I know his tells.”

Jealousy pricks at my chest again. What must it be like, to know someone so well? To be with them, body and soul, to comfort them through hard times and enjoy the good ones?

No, Layla. No more tears. What the hell’s wrong with you?

Christ.

“You all right?” Raylin is watching me, brows drawn together. “You look upset.”

“It’s nothing. I’m tired, too.”

“Have a seat then.” She goes ahead and sets the example, sliding into one of the cushioned chairs at the table. “Tell me about yourself. And Hawk. How did you two meet?”

He hasn’t told them about me. Well, he obviously told the guys I’m a good lay, that I am a hot body, but that was all.

And? There wasn’t anything to tell, Layla.

I really am hopeless.

“We met some time ago,” I say brightly, sitting down and biting into my bread. It tastes like ashes in my mouth. “At a restaurant. My boyfriend at the time had just dumped me for another girl, and Hawk just… came out of nowhere and asked me if I’d join him for dinner.”

“That’s so cool.” Raylin smiles wide, and I manage to smile back, because yeah.

“It was spectacular. You should’ve seen my boyfriend’s face. We spent the night together, and later he called me to meet again.”

For sex. Strictly.

“So romantic,” Raylin gushes, and I wince.

“We’re not… like that,” I say and then wish I could take my words back, because her face falls. “I mean… we’re not romantic.”

She nods. “Oh, that’s fine. When I first met Storm, we basically only had sex and ran from bullets, which might be romantic in some people’s book but not in mine. No, it wasn’t until months later that things settled down, and we started actually dating.”

I gape at her. “That’s… interesting.”

No. Don’t get your hopes up, Lay. Just… no.

“Yeah, weird, huh? But we met under strange circumstances. I was running from the Chinese mafia, and he was running from the Organization who wanted him dead, so… we had to catch up later.”

Hawk and I don’t have such an excuse. Sure, we had some intense adventures this week, but before that, all those months we simply fucked, we never… Well, I never…

Never thought dating was a possibility.

“Just give it time,” she says sympathetically, reaching for my hand over the table, and I wonder what my expression must be like for her to do that. “You’ve had a rough time. Hawk is a good guy. You’ll be fine.”

I don’t know what to say, but I’m saved by the arrival of Storm. He strides into the kitchen, spots us and his face breaks into a huge grin.

“Ladies.” He walks around the table, steps behind his girlfriend and slides his arms around her. Places his hands over her belly. “How are my girls today?”

It takes me an endless moment to understand what he’s doing. I mean, I wasn’t expecting this.

“We’re fine,” Raylin says with a smile. “Just fine.”

“Good,” he says, “because I was gonna—”

I never hear what he’s going to do because I push back my chair and escape the kitchen and their perfect family bliss, the tears I’ve been keeping at bay for so long running down my cheeks like rivers.

***

“Babe? Layla?” Hawk knocks on the bathroom door again. “Are you okay? Can you please open the door?”

“Just a minute.” I wipe at my eyes again. God, I’m a wreck. Maybe I should go see a shrink. Get some Prozac. Something. “I’ll be right out.”

He’s leaning on the door frame when I emerge, and his expression darkens when he sees me.

“What the fuck’s wrong?” He grabs my arms, not letting me escape from him. “What happened while I was asleep?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t. That doesn’t fly with me, babe. Tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it.” He drags me closer and wraps his arms securely around me.

It shouldn’t feel so good.

“Nothing, I promise. I’m just still tired.”

He nuzzles the top of my head. “Okay. You weren’t sick again, were you?”

“No.” It’s the truth. Though bile keeps rising in my throat, and my stomach won’t settle, but I haven’t thrown up again. I guess that’s a win.

“Good. You got me worried. Have you eaten something?”

“Yes. With Raylin.”

“She’s a nice girl.” I hear a smile in his voice, and I tense. “Storm is fucking head over heels in love with her.”

Lucky girl. In so many ways. “Right.”

“Okay, something’s wrong.” He pushes me off just enough to look into my face, and he frowns more. “Layla. You’re crying.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Why?” His frown is still in place, but there’s concern in his eyes. “Did anyone hurt you? Did I hurt you?”

You have.

No.

I don’t know.

Everything hurts these days.

Someone knocks on the bedroom door, and Hawk doesn’t even turn around. “Not now.”

“Hawk, we should talk,” Storm says. I can see his vague shape at the opening, his dark hair, and I remember the way he held Raylin and touched her belly, and God, will I ever stop crying today?

“Not. Now.” He puts his hands on either side of me, bracketing me against the wall. “Talk to me.”

Oh God, he’s looking at me like I mean something to him, like he cares. I can’t take it.

Also, I don’t want to talk about it.

“Told you, it’s nothing,” I lie, duck under one muscular arm and head toward the bedroom door. “We should go.”

Hawk

Something’s off, and how the hell can I fix it if she won’t tell me? If she won’t trust me with it. I thought we were past that, past the barriers and the façades. I mean, she saw me at my fucking lowest. Saw me beaten and damn nearly incoherent, saw me violent and half-mad with thirst and despair.

And I hurt her. Hurt her trying to drive her away.

Fuck!

“Layla.” She’s out of the room already, and I limp after her, only to remember I’m stark naked, and this isn’t my house. More people live in it, and they don’t need to see my dick or my bruises. Plus, Storm will kill me if his girlfriend sees my dick, because she’ll inevitably start comparing us, and he’ll hate me for being so much bigger.

A glance around the room shows me a stack of clothes, pants and a T-shirt, so I grab them and throw them on before hurrying out.

“Layla.” I make my way down a long corridor, the tiles cool under my bare feet. “Can you just wait for a sec? Hell.”

She’s nowhere to be seen, so I continue down the passage. Never been here before. Storm bought it like two months ago and was all mysterious about it. I get that he wanted a safe place for Raylin, but he’s been really secretive lately, and I dunno what the hell’s going on with him.

We never kept secrets from each other before, damn him. All our childhood, all up to now, we told each other everything, just like brothers.

And then you grew up, I remind myself, and became separate entities, instead of a three-headed monster. Storm has every right not to tell you everything that’s going on in his mind, even less between him and his girl.

I go through a small hall with my photos hanging on the walls. I blink at that, because Storm didn’t say he bought any of my photos—I’d have damn well given them to him—and come on, that’s something he could’ve told me, right?

Jeez, the pain in my ribs makes me cranky. That must be it.

And the fact that my girl won’t talk to me, won’t open up, and the fact I’m not even sure she wants to be my girl.

Fuck.

I pass by a kitchen with two plates on the table, and then a patio with a Jacuzzi—which gives me lots of ideas involving Layla and my dick, and yeah, not now, dammit—as I search for her.

I enter a living room with a dining room on one side. There are Storm and Raylin and Rook—and Layla.

Relief surges through me. I stride toward her—well, a sort of limping stride, I guess—and sink beside her on the sofa.

“Hey.” All eyes are on me as I reach for her hand, but she clenches it in her lap. “Lay?”

“So what’s the plan?” she asks brightly, too brightly, a sharp edge to her expression that looks like desperation.

Hell, why? She didn’t seem upset with me last night.

“The plan,” Rook says, scratching at the bristles on his chin, “is to sit tight for a while, until the police arrest Sandivar and as many of the other people Hawk reported to them as possible. Until we are told that it’s safe to come out of hiding. Hawk did the hard work. Well, Hawk and Layla. Now we keep out of sight.”

“For how long?” Layla asks, paling.

I don’t like that she’s pale.

“As long as it takes,” Storm says, linking his hand with Raylin’s. “This place is well stocked, from food to movies, video games and books, a gym and a pool, a tennis court and a track. Anything you need I can have flown in quickly.”

“Oh God,” Layla whispers. “I’m stranded here?”

“You have free run of the whole property,” Storm says. “My employees will help you with whatever you need. I told them that when my guests request something, they won’t question it, but do it.”

She doesn’t look reassured.

“What have you done to her, dude?” Rook asks me with a smirk. “She barely arrived and already she wants to leave.”

Jesus fuck.
“Screw you, dude. Stay out of this.”

“And this?” She lifts a cell phone. “Can I call my friends? My mom?”

“It’s a prepaid cell phone,” Rook says. “For emergencies. Don’t call anyone unless strictly necessary.”

“What Rook means by that is he’s giving you a phone, which you’re never allowed to use, unless you’re being kidnapped,” Storm quips, “in which case, kindly ask your kidnapper for your phone call to your lawyer.”

“Shut up, Storm.” Rook is gazing levelly at Layla who seems to be barely holding back a major freak out. “Is everything okay?”

Layla gives a jerky nod, but she’s still pale, and I don’t fucking like it.

“Then let’s go back to our room.” I reach again for her hand and she lets me hold it. Small victories, right? “We can rest a bit more.”

I meant that innocently, okay? But I can’t help the way I’m drawn to her, so of course my eyes dip to her tits, and it’s hard not to when it’s obvious she’s wearing no bra and her nipples are poking through the thin fabric of her tee.

I doubt she noticed, but hey, I’m a guy. I’m the guy who wants her in every way, so I noticed, and my dick noticed, too, pushing against the seam of my draw-string pants.

She says nothing, a flush spreading over her cheeks, and the need to kiss her is overwhelming. I dip my head, breathing hard like I was running and brush my mouth over her soft lips.