Resist (Sphere of Irony 3)

“No.”

“Fuck you. He’ll call if he wants to talk to you.”

With that, Hawke ends the call and drops the phone into his pocket. He reaches out and yanks me into a hug, squeezing me tight. Shocked, it takes me a minute to wrap my arms around my best friend and hug him back. Hawke is not big on people being in his personal space. In fact, I’d say we’d only hugged once or twice in all the years I’ve known him.

“Shit, Gav. I thought you were dead or something,” he confesses, his voice cracking.

When Hawke finally releases me, he leans back on the counter, removes his glasses, and runs a tattooed hand down his face.

“What happened?” I ask, concerned with his level of distress. “I thought you were riding?”

“I was.” He lays the glasses on the countertop. “Then I got a call from Mitch. He’d been trying to reach you but you wouldn’t answer. I figured you just didn’t want to talk to him specifically, so I tried to reach you. No answer.” He glares at me accusingly.

My face heats up. “I was outside. My phone is—”

“On the couch,” he finishes for me, pulling my phone out of his pocket and holding it up.

Sheepishly, I take it from him. “Sorry.”

“Fuck, Gav. You gave us all a heart attack.” Hawke’s eyes shine and he swallows loudly. I feel like shit. Hawke has lost so much in his life. The thought of losing me must have been terrifying.

“I’m so sorry, Hawke. I didn’t think. I didn’t mean to…shit.”

He looks at the ground, scuffing his shoes on the mosaic stone floor. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.” I realize something and pull my brows down in confusion. “What did Mitch want?”

“Oh.” Hawke blanches. “Ummmm, he got a package.”

“What do you mean? Mitch got a package? From the stalker?”

My mind can’t comprehend this information. No way. The guy wants me, not Mitch. Right?

“Yeah. He wouldn’t give me details, but it sounded like it was…similar to New York.” Hawke flicks his gaze up to me, but all I see is a bright white light surrounded by darkness. The darkness grows until the light becomes a tiny pinprick in the distance.

My last thought is that maybe I should have eaten something.

Then, nothing.

Mitch

As we wait for the record label’s private jet to land, I try to stay as calm as possible so I won’t giveaway how agitated I am. After explaining to Ross that my ‘relationship’ with Gavin was a rouse to lure out the stalker, I don’t want him to notice that I actually have feelings that clearly run deeper than client and employee.

Hell, I don’t want Gavin to see it. I don’t want to be the clingy guy who falls in love after a single hookup. Wait. Love? No, not love. Feelings? Yes. But that could be me projecting a lifetime of denial onto Gavin. Mere gratitude for accepting the real me and for giving me a life-changing sexual experience.

“Hale,” Ross snaps from his seat in the surprisingly plush terminal of the Van Nuys airport.

“Yeah?” I take the seat across from him, tapping my fingers on the armrest and bouncing my knee in a staccato rhythm. I chew on my lip nervously.

He stops typing on his phone long enough to glare at me. “Relax. We have enough security to keep this sicko away from you and Walker.”

Ross thinks I’m nervous because the stalker targeted me. I’ll admit, the ‘gift’ was disturbing, but I’ve seen way, way worse. Granted, I’ve never been on the actual receiving end of such attentions. Unfortunately, that’s not why I’m an anxious mess. I’m worried about seeing Gavin again. When I couldn’t reach him and Hawke couldn’t find him…hell, I swear I nearly had a breakdown. I need to see him more than I need my next breath. But will he want to see me?

We’ve had zero contact over the last eight days and I’m losing my mind. My hands literally ache to touch his smooth skin and hard muscles. Sometimes, I swear I can taste him on my tongue, sweet and salty and completely addictive. I dig my fingers into my thighs to stop my wandering thoughts from giving me a hard-on in front of Ross.

A sleek, white jet lands on the runway and makes it’s way towards the terminal. It takes forever to lower the stairway and the passengers to disembark. Gavin’s blonde head of hair comes into view and for the first time in eight days I physically relax. He’s safe and in one piece. I knew this, but I had to lay eyes on him to believe it.

The group makes its way to the doors. Gavin and Hawke have their heads down, their demeanor subdued. The four large bodyguards surrounding them are alert, scanning the area continuously.