Craving Hawk (The Aces' Sons 3)

Unfortunately for those detectives, they’d been dealing with me and not some kid who’d break down and cry for his mama. I’d answered their questions and no matter how they’d phrased them, I hadn’t changed my answers.

“How well did you know Mr. Phillips?”

Not well. He was a teacher at my school.

“Were you and Mr. Phillips friends?”

No, he was a teacher. I just saw him around school.

“Did the two of you talk often?”

No, I didn’t have any classes with him.

“Was he your teacher?”

No.

They’d tried to catch me in a lie, but they hadn’t been able to and eventually had to let me go.

“Why the hell would they be askin’ you about that missin’ teacher?” my dad asked, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the table.

“No idea,” I said, shaking my head. “I guess some kid thought they saw me fightin’ with him or somethin’ outside the school.”

“Did you?”

“Hell, I don’t remember. If I did it was probably about somethin’ stupid like getting all of Mick’s old essays from him.”

“I asked you to get those,” my mom said, reaching out to squeeze my bicep. “Remember? I had you go into the school and get all of his stuff.”

“Yeah, Ma,” I nodded, guilt for bringing her into it making me nauseous. I hadn’t remembered she’d asked me to pick up Micky’s stuff. I’d just remembered that it had been a pain in the ass. I hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone and I’d gotten stopped in the halls fifteen times by people who wanted to tell me how sorry they were. I hadn’t given a fuck how they felt.

“So that teacher just up and disappeared?” my dad said, watching me closely.

“The news said he just got in his car and drove away,” I replied, holding eye contact. “No one has seen him since.”

Dad glanced at Mom, then took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said finally.

I’d asked my dad to pick me up from the police station when they’d finally let me go, and by the time we’d gotten back to my parents’ house Will and Molly were already there waiting for us. Dad and Will were worried for good reason.

Getting picked up for random bullshit was standard in our line of work, but getting picked up for something completely unrelated to the Aces was pretty rare, at least for the guys who hadn’t been evading warrants before they’d joined the club. On top of that, our lawyer had died the month before and we hadn’t found anyone to replace him yet. Letting anyone who wasn’t a member know our secrets—even the small secrets—was a gamble. We couldn’t just pick anyone, so at the moment I would be stuck with some fucked up court appointed attorney if I was charged with something.

My dad’s hair was getting grayer by the day, and it sucked that on top of dealing with the Russians he was going to have to deal with my shit, too. Even if I kept him out of it, he’d still be in it. That’s how my family was. That’s how the Aces were. They had your back no matter what.

“I’m gonna head out,” I said, leaning over to kiss my mom on her temple.

“Didn’t bring your bike over,” my dad said, getting to his feet when I did.

“I’ll take the Nova,” I replied, pulling my keys out of my pocket. “Haven’t taken her out in a while anyway.”

Dad walked me to the door and pulled me into a hug before I could step outside. “You need me, I’m here. Alright?”

“Yeah,” I answered, nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sleep in,” he called as I hopped down the front steps. “You’ve had a long day.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but since he was technically one of my bosses, I decided I was going to take him up on the offer. I was headed straight to Heather’s apartment, and I had no idea what I’d find when I got there. She’d either be at the door waiting to beat the hell out of me or fuck me blind, but either way I wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon.

* * *

Heather opened the door before I could even knock.

“You couldn’t have called?” she hissed. “Seriously?”

“Sugar,” I started, before she cut me off.

“Don’t say ‘sugar’ in that tone,” she warned, walking away before spinning to face me again. “What the fuck, Tommy?”

“I handled it,” I said, closing the door behind me and toeing off my boots. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine!” she replied, her voice high and squeaky. “The cops picked you up! They were all, ‘Do you know Mark Phillips?’ and you were all, ‘The teacher?’ and they were all, ‘Come with us’ and then you were gone!”

“Calm down,” I said quietly, walking toward her. “I took care of it.”

“How? Seriously? Because I can’t figure out why they would even ask you about him? I mean, I can, but weren’t you careful?”