Craving Hawk (The Aces' Sons 3)

I froze. “What?”

“Congratulations,” he murmured, grinning.

“Fuckin’ finally,” I muttered to myself, making him chuckle.

He wrapped me up in a tight hug and thumped my back a few times, then pulled away. “Get back to work,” he said, still grinning. “You’ve been slackin’.”

“Fuck off,” I joked, shaking my head as I went back out to the garage.

“Congrats, baby bro,” Will said, pulling me into a headlock the minute I’d stepped into my bay. “All grown up and becomin’ a man.”

“Fuck you,” I bitched, punching him in the back as he gave me a noogie. “Get the fuck off’a me!”

He smacked me in the side of the head, then let me go, smiling huge as I shoved him away.

“Can I get some fuckin’ work done, please?” I griped, grabbing my coveralls off the top of my toolbox. “I’d like to get done at a decent fuckin’ hour tonight.”

“Got big plans?” Leo joked.

“Yeah,” I called back. “Gonna fuck my wife before I get my back piece and she can’t dig her nails in for a while.”

“Pussy,” Will said.

“Shit,” I replied. “Just don’t wanna mess up the ink.”

As the day progressed more guys came up to tell me congrats and make comments about the party happening that night. We didn’t need a reason to party, we did that all the fucking time, but it was tradition to have one when a member was patched into the club. The old ladies were probably irritated as hell that they had to get everything ready, though. They’d just taken care of all the food and booze for our wedding and finally gotten the mess cleaned up.

At eleven I stripped out of my coveralls and met Lincoln out front as he pulled up.

“Ah, man,” I joked, shaking his hand. “You’re all slicked up again. Not sure how Heather’s gonna be able to answer shit.”

“Probably better that way,” he said dryly, reaching up to smooth his tie. “Is she ready?”

I shook my head and looked toward the gate where Heather was just pulling in. “I’m trustin’ ya, man,” I said quietly as I watched her drive toward us. “Don’t let ’em fuck with her.”

“I’m good at my job,” he replied.

I was at Heather’s door as soon as she’d parked.

“Hey, husband.”

“Hey, sugar.”

She went up on her toes and gave me a kiss, running her fingers along my cheek. Then she pulled away and turned her head toward Lincoln.

“You ready, hotshot?” she asked, closing her car door.

“Whenever you are,” he replied, his lips twitching.

She nodded and then looked at me again. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Let Lincoln take care of things, alright?” I murmured, pulling her against my chest. “He knows what he’s doin’. Let him do his job.”

“Got it,” she said, squeezing my waist before letting go. “Be back soon.”

I watched her walk confidently to Lincoln’s car and climb in with absolutely no hesitation and I realized… that’s what she did. She could be stressing out for days about something, but the minute it was time for battle, she was completely composed. She made herself sick with worry, but when it came down to it she had nerves of steel.

I watched them drive away and crossed my fingers those steel nerves wouldn’t desert her.

Chapter 15

Heather

“Let’s do this,” I announced as Lincoln parked outside the police station. “I’m ready.”

“It won’t be as bad as you’re imagining,” he said as we climbed out of the car. “I won’t let them badger you.”

“I don’t even know why they want to question me,” I told him as we walked toward the building. “Tommy and I just got together. I wouldn’t have any information they’d want.”

“We’ll see,” Lincoln said, holding the door open for me.

He escorted me to the counter and a man in his late forties came to greet us within minutes. “Hello Heather, I’m Detective Robertson. I left a message on your phone last week.”

“Right,” I murmured as I shook his hand. “You said you wanted to ask me some questions?”

“Right.” He gave me a bland smile then glanced at Lincoln. “And you are?”

“Carter Lincoln,” the lawyer said smoothly. “Mrs. Hawthorne’s attorney.”

The cops face retained the friendly smile but his eyes tightened. “I heard you just got married. Congratulations,” he told me.

“Thanks,” I smiled back, cool as a cucumber.

“Well, come on back,” he said, leading us deeper into the police station.

I glanced around as we walked, but I didn’t really see anything interesting. Men and women were mostly working on computers and only a couple of them glanced up as we skirted the room. The place was quiet. I’d expected something different, more exciting or intimidating or something.

“Come on in and take a seat,” the detective said, gesturing at a doorway.

When I walked inside, it wasn’t the room I’d been picturing in my head. Instead of a metal table bolted to the floor, there was a regular, wooden conference table. Some file cabinets were in one corner and a small coffee pot was sitting on the counter along the wall. It did have the mirror, though. It was definitely a two-way mirror. I wondered if there was anyone on the other side.