Retribution (The Protectors 3)

“You don’t-”

I put up my hand to stop Hawke’s words. “I’ll keep my end of the deal, but I’m not a charity case. The money is a loan,” I said firmly.

Hawke didn’t respond in any kind of way and I wasn’t sure what that meant. He was once again distant and unreadable. I forced myself to hold his gaze as I said, “If we find Buck and Denny, I need you to make sure-”

“I won’t let them near you, Tate.”

A shiver ran down my spine at his declaration. How many times had I wished there’d been someone to say those exact words to me? How many times had I curled in on myself as blow after blow had fallen across my battered body and dreamed that someone like the man across from me would step in and stop it?

Too many times.

Too many to believe his words.

But I had to hope that whatever connection he’d managed to forge with my son would carry over to what I was about to ask of him.

“I need you to make sure that Buck and Denny never get to Matty,” I said firmly. “No matter what happens to me, Matty comes first. I don’t care what you have to do…Buck never lays a hand on him.” I swallowed hard as even the thought of Matty being exposed to Buck’s brutal “lessons” made me want to throw up. “Promise me,” I whispered unashamedly.

Hawke studied me for so long that I had to fight the urge to squirm in my seat. I hated that my mind feared the power he had over me, but I hated even more that my body craved it and him in a way I’d never known before.

“No one touches Matty,” Hawke finally said. “Or you,” he added. And then he leaned forward and pinned me with his hard eyes. “Ever.”

I forced back the dual need to believe him and to tell him not to make me a promise he couldn’t keep and merely nodded my head. “I’ll go pack,” I said.

“Eat something first,” Hawke murmured. He got up before I could respond and then he was setting the Cheerios and carton of milk in front of me. I wasn’t actually hungry, but there was something about the way he watched me that had me reaching for the bowl and spoon he slid in front of me. I had no idea what he was thinking, but for the first time since he’d forced his way into my life, I actually didn’t feel afraid of him.

And I had no idea why.

Chapter Five

Hawke

It took us more than an hour to finally get on the road since I’d vastly underestimated the amount of stuff one kid needed. While Tate just had a small bag, he’d packed as many of Matty’s books, toys and stuffed animals into my car as he could, leaving only just enough space for Matty in the back seat.

Which meant Tate was sitting in the passenger seat next to me. And the fact that his close proximity bothered me was a problem. A big one.

I hadn’t meant to touch Tate when he’d broken down about Matty’s condition. But as his voice had cracked and then finally broken, I’d found myself desperate to take away his pain and I’d pulled him against me. His arms had wrapped around me like a drowning man, but instead of trying to extricate myself from his hold like I should have, I’d held him tighter. His tears had seeped through my shirt and my own eyes hadn’t been immune. And then Matty had appeared and everything had gotten more fucked up.

Because the harder I tried to maintain my distance from Tate and Matty Travers, the more they sucked me into their lives. And the guilt of what I was doing was eating me alive. My threat to turn Tate’s DNA over to the cops had been an empty one, but I’d made sure he wouldn’t know that. I’d gotten what I wanted, but I couldn’t get the image of Tate’s look of betrayal out of my head. Which was ridiculous because I owed him nothing. I didn’t give a shit what he thought of me.

I didn’t bother to wait for Revay’s voice to whisper in my ear that I was a liar because I already knew I was. Just like I was lying to myself about what Tate’s body pressed up against mine had done to me.

I’d wanted him. I still wanted him.

A man.

A fucking man.

My entire life had only ever been about women…well, one woman. Sure, I’d noticed other women in the years I’d been with Revay, but not one of them had stirred even an ounce of the same desire in me that my wife had. Even in the years since I’d lost her, there’d been no one that had made me burn with need.