Hawk (Sex and Bullets 2)

“I didn’t say I make sense.”

“Dammit, Hawk.”

“Can you see another way to get Sandivar?”

“Let fucking Sandivar go. He’s not the big fish.”

“He’s big enough, and if he’s not caught, then I’ll be looking over my shoulder all my life.”

Until he finds the chance to kill me, that is.

“You can’t,” Storm insists.

“Wouldn’t you do it if it meant a safer world for Raylin? For the family you wanna build with her? For your friends?”

“You’re my friend. You going back to Sandivar isn’t gonna make me any goddamn happier,” he growls. “Jesus Christ, you’re still fucking hurt, look at you. Your girl is sick with the stress of what you went through. No fucking way am I letting you go.”

I sigh and close my eyes, well aware that this discussion isn’t over yet and that the detective is waiting for an answer.

***

I pace the passage outside the bedroom. The detective is still talking with the others, and I bet they are trying to think of alternative plans.

I’m all for alternative plans. It’s not like I like pain, like I said before. Not my thing.

But what alternative is there? We still don’t have the name of the big boss, and judging from my parents’ stubborn silence, the smaller fish we’ve already caught won’t offer us much in way of information.

Not enough to bring the fucking Organization down.

Sandivar, though… he may not be at the top, but he’s obviously holding the strings of many projects. He was the one who went after me, after all. The one who felt confident to hold me and toy with me. If he’s the head of security of the Organization, well then…

Then he’s important, and we should do all in our power to grab him. If that means dangling me again as bait in front of his beady eyes… So be it.

Even if the thought makes me wanna puke.

Fuck. Looks like I’ve made up my mind, doesn’t it?

Scratching at my beard, I open the door and step into the bedroom, searching for the right words.

Hey, Lay, remember Sandivar? Would you believe I missed his company?

Fuck, no.

Layla, I’m going on a business trip. Terribly urgent. No, you can’t come with. Don’t wait up for dinner.

Hell.

Look, babe, I didn’t wanna tell you, but my plan all along was to go back… Ah shit.

I suck at lying, and she—

The bed is empty.

“Layla?” I push the bathroom room open and step inside. She’s sitting on the floor, arms looped around her knees. “Hey. Everything okay?”

She shakes her head, and damn, she looks white as a sheet. “I had… a bad dream.” She’s trembling, even though she’s wrapped up in the bathrobe and it’s toasty warm in here. “God, it was so real!”

Shit. I carefully lower myself to the floor, because my knee is bothering me even more today if that’s possible, and open my arms. She scoots closer, until she’s pressed to my chest and my arms are full of trembling, clammy-skinned girl.