Storm (Sex and Bullets 1)

“Yeah, that you’re going to shut up and catch some winks during the flight, junior, or I’m having the chopper turn back to deposit your fucking ass next to Rook’s.”

Damn.

***

We’re finally back in the plane, and despite my protests when Hawk drags a blanket over me, I fall into deep sleep as we take off, Raylin’s hand in mine.

Maybe that’s why I managed to relax enough to let go of consciousness. Her touch.

Or maybe it was blood loss. Guess my body’s running on fumes and has sort of given up on trying to keep up with everything I want it to do.

When Hawk shakes me awake, we’re flying over turquoise sea and flat green land, and Raylin is asleep by my side, her head rolling on my shoulder.

Hawk is sitting across from us, a strange expression on his face. Almost like… longing, but that can’t be right. I blink, and he grins lazily, straightening from his slouch.

“Almost there.” He nods his head at Raylin. “This girl. You just found her on the beach?”

“She found me.” And keeps finding me.

“Normal people collect shells. Not girls.”

“Shut up, Hawk.” Shit, I’m tired. I lick my dry lips. My mouth tastes like something died in it. “I don’t care if you don’t approve, got it? You’re an old man, but not my old man. And even if he were alive…” I scowl at the view below. “I wouldn’t give a fuck.”

And Hawk just grins like he’s the fucking Cheshire Cat. “Didn’t I tell you she’s perfect for you?”

“No, you damn well didn’t.”

“A girl who can shoot to kill is a girl after my own heart.”

“Make all the fun you want.”

“I’m serious.” He leans forward, hands clasped between his knees. His dark suit is dusty and streaked with white, his hair sticking up in weird angles as if he fell asleep on it. “Sorry I made fun, man. I like her. She has spunk. And she cares for you. Hell, instead of running, she had your back and shot that motherfucker. Respect.”

I’m openly staring at him, but I can’t find the words right now. He does sound serious, not an everyday occurrence. He really means it.

Then the moment is gone, and he grins again. “We’re almost there. Let’s solve this mystery once and for all.”

***

We land at the private airstrip and climb into a rental car, so as not to attract attention. We stop in front of the mansion and find out we failed.

Detachedly I watch as two guys start running toward us, cameras in hand. Paparazzi camped on the front lawn, waiting for any other juice bit they can use for their articles? Check. Their tenacity can’t shock me anymore. It’s all about money.

Yeah, I got that memo. My whole life is based on that principle, and in all probability, my planned death, too.

At least we’re all wearing dark hoods, hiding as much of our faces as possible. Hawk’s idea.

Hawk’s bodyguard jumps out first to fend the reporters off. I cover my face in the crook of my arm, keeping Raylin behind me, and wonder how much time we have before a horde descends on us to take photos and shoot questions.

I can almost hear them in my head.

Mr. Jordan, did you set up the shooting to get insurance money? Did you have your uncle killed? Are you gay and involved with your friends Jamie ‘Hawk’ Fleming and Roderick ‘Rook’ Carter?

Yeah, they did ask that one a year ago. At my uncle’s funeral, no less. But I’ve heard it all before. Like I said, nothing shocks me anymore.

Except maybe Hawk believing me.

The bodyguard is pushing the men back, and then Hawk climbs out of the car and jumps right into the fray, because that’s what Hawk does. Hands-on management.