Devil's Bargain

“I called the other day and Deirdre put a dress aside for me,” she says. “My name is Carol.”

“Carol, that’s right. A princess dress for your daughter, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll go get it. It’s in the back.” I walk away from the counter and go into the back room to look through the things we’re holding for people. I find the dress, and I carry it into the shop, feeling the shift in the air the instant I open the door between the back room and the shop itself.

The women are still at the counter and standing beside the door is Hawk. Beyond him, outside, a sedan is parked beside the one that brought me. It’s still running.

My mouth goes dry when I meet his hard eyes.

He folds his arms across his chest and raises his eyebrows.

I clear my throat and walk to the counter.

“Here it is,” I say.

The woman picks it up. “It’s gorgeous. And I can sew this right up,” she says, touching the slight tear at the hem.

“Oh, I didn’t see it. I’ll discount—”

“No, it’s a few minutes work. Besides, I know how much you donate to the shelter,” she says with a warm smile. She takes out her wallet. “I used to come here back when Marjorie opened the shop. I know she’d be proud you’re keeping up her legacy.”

“She was an amazing woman.”

“So are you,” she says.

Embarrassed, I turn to ring her up, make change and bag the items, not sure if Hawk heard any of that.

When the women leave, he steps to the counter.

“Where’s your bluster when I’m standing in front of you.”

“I’m not a thing.”

“You are mine to care for during these thirty days. Period. End of fucking story.”

“I’m not a whore.” I feel my eyes fill up.

“The only person throwing that word whore around is you.”

“I can pay for my own coffee and my own sandwich and my own clothes.”

“You switched off your phone,” he says.

“I told you it was busy.”

“That was busy?”

“What do you want from me?”

“Why aren’t you wearing the clothes I had delivered?”

“Look around you, Hawk.”

He studies me.

“I’ll wear what you want me to wear at the casino or when we’re out together, but I’m not wearing those things here. I have my own clothes.”

“I’ve seen your clothes.”

“Money and material things, they’re not everything, you know.”

“I know how much I transferred into your bank account this morning.”

“There are reasons people do things and you don’t know anything about mine.”

“I may not know everything but I’m willing to bet your reasons have something to do with the fake driver’s license.”

Shit. Why did I say that?

“I’ll have the clothes swapped out for more appropriate ones,” he says.

“I told you, I have my own.”

“Is it that hard to let someone do something nice for you?”

I stop at that, but then shake my head. “You’re doing it for you, not me. Let’s just be really honest about that.”

“There are reasons people do things and you don’t know anything about mine,” he says, repeating my own sentence word for word.

I bite the inside of my lip.

“Let me see.” He gestures to the scarf.

“It’s fine.”

“Let me see.”

He reaches over the counter this time and pulls the knot of the scarf loose. The silk falls away in his hand and he lifts my chin, turns it slightly, touches the marks. He turns my face back and looks at me.

“It won’t happen again,” he says.

“So you’ve said.” I pull out of his grasp.

“Are you afraid of me?”

His question surprises me and it takes me a long time to answer. “I don’t know what I am. I just know there are men worse than you out there.”

His gaze on me is so intense I shift mine to the counter.

I don’t know why I just said that. I mean, it’s true. As ridiculous as it sounds, I do feel safe with him. And some part of me wants to tell him why I took the deal. Wants to tell him why I use a fake name. Why Liza knowing I’m here scares the shit out of me.

But I can’t do that.

I can’t ever do that.

When I look back up at him, he’s studying me curiously. I have to get better at hiding what I’m thinking.

“That photograph you found, it’s old. Old things carry memories,” he says, surprising me.

I don’t have a reply and we just stand there in an almost comfortable silence. But then the shop door opens and Axel walks in.

Hawk straightens, turns to him.

“We gotta go,” Axel says, giving me one glance.

“Be right there. Wait for me outside.”

Hawk shifts his gaze back to me and takes my jaw into his hand again. He draws me forward.

“When I call, you pick up, understood?”

“Understood.”

14

Hawk

“There are reasons people do things and you don’t know anything about mine.”

These are the words that go around and around in my head as I watch Melissa look through the new clothes on the racks in one of the spare bedrooms.