Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 1) (21 page)

I only shut my mom up after I finally told her things were too new with Savage to know where they were going. She just smiled and said, “I’m just happy you are giving someone a chance.” She feels guilty and responsible for the way I live my life. I don’t hide things from her, so she knows my interactions with men aren’t designed to lead to love and marriage.

We’d left it at that, along with a note from Nora that she doesn’t need me leading Savage on and then breaking his heart. I can’t say I blame her; that would make work pretty damn awkward for her. And, as much as I hate that she’s stripping, the faith I have in Savage makes the reality of it a little more bearable. I don’t want her to have to deal with an angry ex of mine as a boss.

At the same time, I can’t let what might happen to Nora affect how I handle the Savage situation. It’s new and unusual enough as it is. Looking at him now, with that smug smile on his face, I know I don’t regret taking this chance.

It’s worth it.

I return my attention to the game to avoid thinking any more about Savage’s skills and his cock. I’m not up on my baseball. In fact, I only understand about half of what’s happening on the field.

“Why isn’t the second baseman on second base?” I ask, trying to show some interest.

Savage chuckles and seems to realize my ignorance of the game. “Because he needs to cover the area between first base and second base. Just like the shortstop covers the area between second and third.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. The first basemen stays on his base and the third baseman stays on his. Why wouldn’t they just have another short stop for in between first and second?”

He laughs and seems to consider my question. “I haven’t thought about it really. It’s just how it’s always been.”

“Well, they should change it.”

If I can change, so can baseball.
 

The click, click, click of my heels on the cement floor echoes in the completely empty warehouse. This place is utterly barren. Only dust and pigeons currently occupy the thousands of feet of space that once housed a bustling car assembly plant.

I glance down at my watch.

7:30.

He should be here by now. Turning in a circle, I search for any sign of Paul. He changed our meeting place, texting me this address an hour ago and telling me to come alone. Like I would ever bring anyone to a meet with him anyway.

I hate to admit it, but maybe Savage is right. Maybe it’s a little dangerous to meet with a source alone, in an abandoned warehouse, where there probably isn’t anyone around to hear me scream if something happened. But, this is Paul, and despite his efforts during our last meeting to intimidate me, I don’t think he would ever do anything to hurt me.

He’s the one who contacted
me,
after all. After our last meeting, he could have disappeared and stopped calling me and there’s nothing I could do about it. But he texted to confirm our meeting today. He said he would try again, and I’ve been anxious thinking about what he might bring me—photos, recordings, paperwork, anything that can tie Mayor Dunne to Abello by more than just supposition.

I do trust Paul, but the Post-it situation has me on edge. That strange feeling of being watched has followed me since our last meeting. The only time I didn’t feel it was when I was at the game with Savage. But I can’t let my as-yet unfounded unease stop me from my mission.

I need this more than I need some quality alone time with Savage. And that’s saying A LOT.

We were both so exhausted after the game last night, we fell asleep on the ride home, quashing any hopes I had of limo sex. The lack of sex is almost as concerning as Paul’s caginess. He’d better come through.

A clank on the far side of the warehouse near a line of closed office doors breaks me from my reverie and I squint into the darkness, looking for the source of the sound. A second later, a shadow emerges, moving toward me slowly.

“Paul?” I ask, taking a slow step toward the mystery figure.

“Yeah, uh hey, Danika, sorry I’m late,” he answers, his voice quiet and shaky.

“Is everything okay?” He approaches me and, even in the dim lighting of the building, I can see he’s nervous. His entire body is twitching, and he’s in constant motion, looking around the warehouse and twisting his hands together in front of his body.

Shaking his head, he runs his hands back through his hair and paces around me anxiously. “No, I think they’re onto me.”

Fuck.

“Why? What happened?”

He squeezes his eyes shut and grimaces. “Shit. They’re going to kill me.”

“Paul,” I say, reaching out to lay my hand on his arm, “tell me what happened.” This is bad. This is really, really bad, but I try to maintain my composure so I don’t spook him more.

“I was in the office, going through the files, looking for the documentation you need, and Alonzo came in.”

“Shit.” Alonzo Mattuci is one of Domenico’s high-ranking lieutenants, and, according to rumor, is also his top gun. I heard he has over one hundred kills under his belt. If he caught Paul, it would be a death sentence. “Well, you’re here, so obviously he doesn’t suspect anything. We both know you would be dead if he had.”

Paul nods his agreement and chews on his nail. “He asked me what I was doing and I told him I was looking for a purchase order for one of the truck parts because we needed to replace it with the same part. He seemed to buy it, and ended up finding the order for me before shooing me out of the office.”

This is particularly concerning, considering the revelations of our last meeting. Abello has my name and now Paul’s been caught in the office. Still, we are both still alive.

“Did you get anything before he came in?  Did you find anything about the meeting?”

Paul glares at me. Maybe I deserve it, but this story is my career. “Yeah, I did.”

He hands me a sheet of paper with the name of one of Abello’s construction companies across the top. It’s a bid on a construction project downtown—the new offices for the district attorney.

“I don’t get it. Why is this important?”

His hand shoots out and snatches the paper back, then he turns it around and points to a line. “See this? Look at the numbers. There’s no way they could do this job for that amount of money. They were awarded the contract. Do you know what they ended up getting paid? Almost triple what is on here. Who do you think arranged/approved that?”

There’s no doubt in my mind it was Dunne. “But, this doesn’t prove anything. We can’t prove Dunne did anything to get them the contract or that the overpayment was any form of a payoff.”

Paul growls. “Do you really think they would put that in writing?”

“Well, no, but there has to be something! Something with Dunne’s name on it. Do you think you can try again?” I ask, knowing full well the position I am asking him to put himself in. “Please, Paul.”

Shaking his head, he paces around me. “I don’t know, Danika. It’s too dangerous. I just don’t know if it’s worth it.”

Don’t back out on me now! Time to pull out my best logic.

“Paul, when you came to me, you said you wanted to help me because you know what a scumbag Dom and his goons are. You said you wanted to help end him and the corruption going on. I can’t do that without your help.”

“I know,” he says with an exaggerated sigh. “I know.”

“What about the meeting?  Did you find out what it was for?”

Another clank echoes through the warehouse and Paul and I both whirl in the direction of the sound, searching in the darkness for any threat.

“I’m outta here.” He turns and runs off in the opposite direction before I even have chance to try to stop him.

Shit, I need to get out of here.

I turn and walk as quickly as my four-inch stilettos can carry me toward the door and my car, and I reach into my purse for my keys. Heavy footsteps thud behind me and I pick up my speed until I’m practically sprinting in my Loubs to stay in front of my pursuer.

Bad shoe choice for a clandestine meeting, Dani!

Just before I reach the door, a hand lands on my shoulder and I scream, turning toward my assailant with my keys in my hand as a weapon, just like my father taught me.

Where the hell is she?

The clock in the corner of my computer monitor does nothing to ease my worry. I clench my fists for the hundredth time today and try to take a calming breath. Danika was supposed to call me when she was done working today. That should have been two hours ago. It is almost nine, and still no word from her, not even a text.

The bumping base from the music downstairs rolls through the floor and into my body. Normally, it really doesn’t bother me, but tonight, it is adding to the headache slowly building in my skull.

She was supposed to call me when she was done so I could pick her up and we could go to my place. I need another night of her in my bed, in my arms. I crave it more than anything these days, even after only having it once.

A knock at the door startles me and I’m hoping it’s her and we just somehow got our wires crossed. “Come in.”

The door opens and Gabe walks in with a nervous-looking Nora, who doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with me. I’ve done my best to steer clear of her, because, frankly, it’s a little awkward to be dating her sister and I’m not quite sure where to draw the line between boss and sort-of friend.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly sensing the tension emanating from Gabe as he stands behind Nora, nudging her forward toward my desk.

Rolling her eyes toward Gabe, she steps forward and holds out her phone. I reach across my desk, grab it, and read the text message she has up on the screen from Danika.

> Car towed. Need ride. Pick me up at 3535 Florida Ave ASAP <

“What the fuck?” I slam my fist down on my desk, making Nora jump and shrink away. “Why is she down in the Industrial Canal area? And at this time of night?”

Florida Avenue is the dumps, literally. It runs along the canal that connects the Mississippi to Lake Pontchartrain. After Katrina, it became wall-to-wall warehouses and abandoned houses. Now, it’s housing for the homeless and crack addicts. They’ve been trying to clean it up for years, but with little success.

“I don’t know,” Nora replies, her voice shaking, “I just saw the text when I got off stage. Looks like she sent it about twenty minutes ago.”

“Shit.” Gabe gives me a knowing look and brushes past Nora to grab her phone from me.

“Don’t worry,” he says, handing her the phone, “we’ll go get her.”

Nora eyes Gabe and me skeptically. “Maybe I should just go get her.”

“No,” I snap at her and she recoils at my tone. “Look, I’m sorry, just…let me go get her. Okay? I promise I’ll make sure she’s all right.”

Nora considers me for a moment before sighing and shoving her phone into the pocket of the sweatshirt she has on over what I imagine is nothing on her top. Her long legs are bare except for a tiny string thong she wore on stage. “Fine, but make sure you let me know when you have her so I know she’s okay.”

“Of course.” She turns, and with a glance over her shoulder back at us, she disappears out the door.

Gabe turns back to me. He knows me well enough to know I’m fuming. “Are you going to be able to calm down on the way to go get her? Or should I go alone? I don’t want you coming along and having to listen to you lecturing her the entire ride back.”