Hawk: (20 page)

Hawk killed the engine of his Harley in the driveway of Shooter and Slick’s place. The summer heat hadn’t yet broken, but the thunderstorms this season hadn’t subsided either.
The latter seemed to make the other at least bearable. He climbed the steps of the front porch and let himself inside. Shooter was in the living room, looking peeved.

“L.T.?” Hawk asked cautiously, flopping into the nearest chair. The little white demon jumped onto his lap.

“Slick,” he grumbled. It went without saying though. Any time his lieutenant had that look on his face these days, it was because his little wife had gotten into some big trouble.

“What’s up?”

“She’s not at work. Not here, either.”

“So
, where is she?”

“How the fuck do I know? She didn’t answer her phone.”

Hawk didn’t have anything to say to that. This wasn’t Slick’s fault or even Shooter’s. It all fell squarely on Hawk’s broad shoulders. Garrett snatching Tildy had brought up a lot of old hurt for the newly married couple. Shooter had been all too well reminded of the time he’d lost his wife, nearly lost her for good. These last few weeks he’d gone back to being uber possessive of Sarah, insisting she call him several times a day. Sarah wasn’t in any actual danger. The man who’d hurt her was long dead and Garrett was gone, too. He’d violated parole, so he wouldn’t even get a trial.

When Shooter said he’d ‘take care of Garrett’ he’d apparently meant what he said. Hawk knew Shooter as a great leader of men, a man who c
ould inspire even the most hardheaded sons of bitches (Hawk was included in that number) into doing what needed to be done.

No one
knew what Shooter had said to Garrett while they were waiting for the Rangers and the cops to show up that day, but by the time the first squad car had pulled up, Garrett was ready to confess everything. He’d claimed his injuries were from the accident and his subsequent hunting of Tildy through the canyon. Rawlins, who would never give up on his dream of putting Hawk behind bars, didn’t believe it for a minute, but there was nothing he could do to prove otherwise. Garrett seemed to have accepted his fate and his one last chance to do the right thing, so he went quietly back to prison, this time for good.

Tildy had go
ne back to her own life on the north side. Hawk had not heard from her since that day she’d thrown him out of her hospital room. It had been tempting to call her and check on her, but he had ultimately decided against it. Caleb had kept the Fletchers informed of Garrett’s situation, and in doing so also had an eye on Tildy.

“She’s okay,” Hawk said out loud.

“But she won’t
call
me,” Shooter argued, banging on the screen of his phone again. His sharp look at Hawk a few seconds later told him that she’d finally answered. Hawk himself felt as relieved as Shooter, though for different reasons. He just wanted his friends to go back to their lives. He felt responsible for this current strain on their relationship and God knew they didn’t need any more problems. Slick was already hell-bent on getting pregnant, but so far the couple had not gotten lucky. This added stress was the last thing they needed.

“Baby, where are you?” Shooter half-growled. “Bullshit,” he proclaimed just seconds later.

Hawk frowned.

“You didn’t go to work,” Shooter declared. “I called the bar and Thomas said he hasn’t seen you all day.”

Well, shit
, thought Hawk. So much for that. It must have been irritating for Slick to have to go back to daily phone calls and sitreps, but damn she shouldn’t be lying to Shooter.

“Where are you?” Shooter asked again. “The mall,” he said, glancing at Hawk.

Hawk shrugged. It wasn’t a good time to tell the man that he was being a little paranoid about his wife’s safety.

“Ass. Home. Now,” Shooter ordered.

Hawk recognized the tone. He was in full Ranger mode at the moment. Slick better get her butt in gear and shag ass back home before her husband took a page out of Tex’s playbook and tanned her hide. Shooter disconnected the call and slammed the phone down on the coffee table. Hawk was surprised it didn’t crack.

“The fucking
mall
,” Shooter hissed.

“Yeah,” Hawk replied, because that was the only response that seemed safe.

“What the fuck?” Shooter demanded.

Hawk had no idea what to say. He’d be pissed too if Tildy...
but then Tildy wasn’t his woman, was she? He got up, tucking the cat under his arm, and headed toward the kitchen to snag a beer. He resisted the urge to call Tildy and popped the cap off a bottle. He heard the front door open and close a few times; the other guys were arriving. He heard some low voices, Shooter’s distinctive growl, and hoped the night could still be salvaged. He did not want to go home and stare at the wall. The last thing he needed was time to think.

He wandered back into the living room and reclaimed his chair.

“She’s alright,” Tex said in an attempt to placate Shooter. “She’s at the mall. With Abby.”

“She lied,” Shooter insisted.

“Well... ”

“Well, what?” Shooter demanded.

Tex made a face. “You’re being too controlling.”

Shooter’s jaw flexed. “I am trying to ignore the irony of the Dom telling me that I am too controlling.”

“Oh, come on,” said Tex, not interested in the joke. “That’s bullshit. I don’t control Abby. She doesn’t report in to me like she’s out on a mission every day. Okay, well she does,” he said, grinning. “But for entirely different reasons. My point is that I let Abby do whatever she wants. She’s not in danger. And neither is Slick. If Slick
was
in danger, Abby’s loaded for bear.”

“She lied,” Shooter repeated.

“As a defense mechanism against your paranoia.”

Hawk silently agreed. Tex said whatever he felt like saying, whenever he felt like saying it. It had the added ring of truth to it because he had a psych degree. Ha
wk had no such qualification so he usually refrained from offering advice.

They heard the sound of Sarah and Abby pulling into the drive, and Hawk took a long pull of his beer. The cat purred loudly in his lap, unaware yet that her mommy was home. Hawk would
definitely need more than one beer before the blowout was over. Shooter looked so mad that they might just move straight to tequila shots. Slick came in through the front door, looking appropriately contrite with bags in her hands.

“Shopping,” Shooter declared. “You disappeared all afternoon to go shopping.”

“I-” Slick stammered.

Hawk shook his head.
Don’t bother
, he thought to her silently.
Just let him steam for a while.

“I called your phone. You didn’t answer,” Shooter reminded her.

“Well-”

“And you said you were working today. But then you didn’t.” Shooter was obviously winding up now. The cat, unaware that anything unpleasant was happening, jumped down and wound itself around Sarah’s legs. Hawk figured, if things got any worse, Slick could
always throw the cat at him and run like hell.

“True, but-” she tried to argue.

Big mistake. She shouldn’t argue.

Hawk hadn’t recognized the bags Slick was holding, but Shooter did. “Panties,” he said loudly. “Panties were such a big emergency that you lied to me?”

Hawk shrugged and looked at the guys. Easy was grinning, and Tex was intently watching the two of them. Caleb caught Hawk’s look and smirked. Hawk silently agreed. Yeah, she lied. But panties...

“Can I speak?”
Slick demanded.

Hawk smiled. She
was done being intimidated. She really did have a low threshold for that sort of thing. She squared her shoulders, and jutted her chin up. Hawk watched Shooter’s mouth twitch. As pissed as he was at that moment, no one could resist the little woman when she got wound up. She was fucking adorable. Shooter admitted that sometimes he wound her up just to watch her go off on him. He loved to see his woman showing her backbone. This wasn’t one of those times, but that could change.

Slick was apparently at a loss for words though, because she just threw up her hands and skirted around Shooter toward the stairs. Hawk was a little disappointed.

“You’re not getting out of this!” Shooter yelled up the stairs. After Slick disappeared, he turned his gaze on Abby.

Abby held up her hands in mock surrender. “I am not involved.”

Shooter continued to glare at her.

“I need a drink,” Abby announced and headed straight for the kitchen. Tex followed her.

“Panties,” Shooter grumbled.

“Well, she likes panties,” Caleb pointed out. “And that might have been an emergency to her. Who knows with women?”

Tex and Abby returned. She held her signature martini and curled up on the couch next to her man. Tex had nothing to say about anything now that Vegas was here, since most of his attention was on her whenever she was within spitting distance. Hawk remembered not being able to take his eyes off Tildy whenever she was around. He was about to ask what was for dinner since Slick had played hooky, when Easy whistled from across the room. He followed the younger man’s gaze toward the staircase.

“Damn,” Easy declared.

Damn, indeed. Slick was descending the steps half naked, still looking pissed off, wearing only high-riding panties and a corset that gave her more cleavage than the law should allow. She also had a hand behind her back. Hawk remembered the last time he’d seen her do that. Sarah Sullivan had no more secrets to tell though, so she was probably just going to shoot her old man instead.

“Careful, Shooter," Hawk said. "She's got one hand behind her back. Might be your .44."

Caleb mused that getting shot by a beautiful woman was definitely the way to go out.

Easy concurred
but with a panty stipulation.

Hawk had to admit that he could forgive a woman almost anything if s
he was dressed like that. As Slick made it to the bottom step, she was facing Shooter head on, but Hawk’s chair was angled to her side. He saw that she was not holding Shooter’s .44 this time.

“It was an emergency,” Sarah insisted.

Shooter didn’t look convinced.

Hawk felt a sense of relief so strong that it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. Shooter and Slick could move out of the shadow of their past now, he realized. She would never be in danger again, and Shooter would never have to feel that infuriating impotence that was so crushing when you couldn’t help the woman you...

He pushed that thought away and lifted the cat back onto his lap.

Slick brought her hand out and showed her old man what she was h
olding. Apparently she did have one more secret to tell. Hawk had recognized it the moment he’d seen it, having been through this twice before with Raina.

"I lied because I wanted to make sure before I said anything. And it was an emergency because I'll only get to wear this for a little while before I'm the size of Tex's Hummer," she said.

"What's that?" Hawk asked, feigning ignorance.

"My baby," Chris announced, looking at Slick’s photos.

Hawk’s grin widened. The night was saved, and things were back to normal. "Sure it's yours? She’s been spending an awful lot of time with Easy," he teased.

Slick gasped and
Hawk laughed. For as much time as she’d been around them, they could still get her goat every once in a while.

"Might be mine. Better find out first," Shooter replied, playing along. He ditched the photos and grabbed his wife like a sack of potatoes.

"What are you doing?!"

Shooter smacked her ass. "Interrogation," he announced, somewhat gleefully and carried her upstairs.

Abby giggled.

“How long have you known?” Tex asked her.

“Just this afternoon,” she said, downing the rest of her martini.

“Oughta spank you for getting the lieutenant so riled up.”

Abby finished her drink and giggled again. “Now you’re just making up reasons.”

Tex grinned at her. “Might be.”

She set her glass down and smiled at the photos on the coffee table. “Do you still have your uniform?” she asked suddenly.

Tex turned to look at her. “Yeah,” he replied. At first he seemed confused, then a slow grin spread on his face. “Why? You want to experience some
of my Enhanced Interrogation Techniques?”

Abby laughed. “Maybe.”

“Oh, God,” Easy groaned.

Hawk laughed and went to the kitchen to get another beer. As he set the cat down on the floor, he briefly considered calling Tildy and telling her the news. Tildy had always liked the girls. She’d be glad to hear Sarah’s good news. He fingered the phone in his pocket for a moment before opening another beer instead.

Tildy stood in front of the mirror. Her mother was behind her, tugging at the dress she’d chosen for her daughter. Tildy flinched a few times, even though there had been no corrections since ‘The Incident,’ as her parents had taken to calling it, when they spoke of it at all.

Deirdre sighed, exasperated. “We should’ve bought a new dress,” she declared. Tildy didn’t
think it would matter. Julia Carson had RSVP’d to the Fletcher’s party invitation with barely contained enthusiasm, hinting that Tate was sincerely looking forward to it. He would propose whether Tildy had on a new dress or not.

Her mother handed her a light wrap, and Tildy slid it over her shoulders. The correction bruises had mostly faded, but Tildy’s elbow was still a greenish yellow. It was not broken though, as Deirdre crowed when they got the x-rays back, because a
cast would be too unsightly. Tildy’s hair was arranged to cover the healing gash above her eyebrow, since her makeup didn’t quite cover it. She wondered at the necessity of having another party so soon after ‘The Incident,’ but her parents, it seemed, were determined to put the whole thing behind them. If they heard Tildy waking up in the middle of the night screaming for help, they never mentioned it to her.

Deirdre looked her over in the mirror, pursing her lips. “I didn’t know if we’d ever get to this point,” she muttered. Tildy wondered if she meant that she was
surprised anyone would marry Tildy, or implying that Tildy had been deliberately sabotaging all of her mother’s efforts over the years. Deirdre seemed as anxious for Tildy to leave as Tildy herself was. It could very well be that she blamed her daughter for her own failing marriage. She may well honestly believe that getting rid of Tildy would bring her husband back to her, but Tildy knew her leaving home wouldn’t make her mother’s life any easier.

She
had finally realized something that her mother might never understand: You couldn’t make someone love you.

  When Tildy entered the living room, several people greeted her warmly. Tales of her harrowing experience had sprea
d far and wide, despite her parent’s reluctance to talk about it. It wasn’t clear which upset her mother more: That Tildy had been kidnapped, or that she had been associating with “those people” in the first place. Acutely aware of her mother’s watchful eye, Tildy downplayed ‘The Incident’ and gave everyone her trademark-winning smile. Just because corrections hadn’t started back up again didn’t mean they wouldn’t.

Skylar trailed
behind Tate as they emerged from the direction of the kitchen. Tildy was only surprised that they weren’t doing a better job of being discreet. Tate put a proprietary hand on Tildy’s shoulder; Skylar did not acknowledge her at all. Tildy noticed her friend’s nails were chipped on one hand. She smirked and looked away. Clearly zippers were tricky to negotiate in the dark.

Vera Simmons drifted to them and kissed Tildy lightly on the cheek. “Darling,” she proclaimed breathlessly. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Tate smiled and squeezed Tildy’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he said, responding for her. “I almost lost her.” Tate seemed amused by it though, as if Tildy were a missing pet rather than someone who’d been in danger. “I’m determined not to misplace her again,” Tate said to Vera raising his voice to attract the attention of the entire room.

Tate reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. Vera, Julia, and Deirdre
all gasped- giving very passable imitations of being surprised. Tate grinned at the crowd, reached for Tildy’s hand, and slid the ring on.

The sma
ll group applauded them. Skylar had disappeared to snag a drink during the “Not Proposal” and merely gave Tildy a half-smile. The older women moved away to discuss which of the local florists was the best while Tate headed to the hors d’oeuvre table. Skylar continued to sip her drink and grabbed Tildy’s hand. The diamond was large and brilliantly cut. “It’s beautiful,” she declared to Tildy, wrinkling her nose. “It’s not right for you though. It just makes you look even plainer.”

Tildy snatched her hand away and gave Skylar a
hard look. After a moment, she smiled. “Really, Skylar,” Tildy mused quietly, slipping the drink from her hand. She finished off the rest of it in one gulp. “I can’t understand why you’re not happier. You really came out on top, when you think about it. You get to be the mistress, all of the fun and none of the hassle.”

Skylar gasped and glanced around quickly, though no one had heard them. When she determined she was safe, her eyes narrowed into slits. “You don’t deserve him,” she whispered fiercely.

Tildy laughed. “Oh, I agree. Trust me.”

“He only wants your money,” Skylar snapped, as though this was news. Everyone in the room knew it was
more of a merger than a marriage.

Tildy laughed again. “Just think, Sky, if your father hadn’t gambled away half your family’s money,
you’d
be wearing this monstrosity.”

It was a shitty thing to say, but Tildy couldn’t convince herself to feel guilty. She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Skylar standing open mouthed.