Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “I’m not going out with you. Take me home.”
“Damn, you really are ruining all the fun,” he grumbles, turning in the direction of my house.
I wonder if this is Hawke’s way of checking up on me. I appreciate the fact that he hasn’t told my father that I have a detective following me and that Hawke also hasn’t moved against my wishes. I can’t help but smile. The big oaf might be unorthodox, but he’s certainly protective.
“What if I agree to go out with you tomorrow as a thank you?”
He perks up in the same way I imagine a dog might. I’ve just locked myself into God knows what.
When we reach my home, he gets out, grabs my bag, and follows me inside. It might be midnight, but he doesn’t care. He basically grew up here. Hawke struggles to be alone, so he often stayed at our house or Eli’s place. He makes haste to the kitchen, dumping my bag at the entrance and then finding himself a snack.
My father walks out with a glass of whiskey in his hand, clearly uncomfortable at the fact that Hawke’s here without him knowing. His discomfort is probably because he’s not wearing his gloves; he’s never around people without them on.
It’s not that he has scarring or anything, but physically touching people causes an adverse reaction in him.
“I see you brought company,” my father says, taking a sip of his drink.
“Figured you’d appreciate her getting home safe,” Hawke says with a mouthful of food. This guy’s always eating.
“Yes, thank you,” my father grits as he comes over to me and presses a kiss to my forehead.
Hawke smiles at him like he won a prize.
“How was the event?” my father asks.
“Good.”
I want to tell him about my decision regarding college, but with my mother out of town, it’s best to wait for her to return in a few days.
Hawke looks between us expectantly, never quite able to read a room. “You sure are lonely without your sidekick,” my father observes. “Go to bed, Hawke.” He turns and walks off, leaving me alone with Hawke.
“See, he loves me. He noticed how lonely I was.” He shovels more food into his face and then pulls me in for a side hug. “I’m holding you to your word. I’ll see you later, little red. I’ll be here when the sun goes down tomorrow.”
I expel a sigh. What have I signed up for? “Oh, and for future reference. My agent is off-limits, as is anyone else I work with, for that matter.”
He smirks, devouring what looks like a plain white roll. “How presumptuous of you to think we don’t already have history.”
Hawke’s laughing when he leaves, and I glare serious daggers at his back.
I don’t know why he needs a sidekick to go out with, considering he ends up with women all over him. I’ve been out with him before, and while he might walk in with everyone else, he never leaves with us, so that means tomorrow night, I’ll be on my own. Not if I invite someone, of course. He never said I couldn’t. And I know one particular party girl who might be able to keep up with him. I pull out my phone and message Ivy. And then Billie. It depends, though, if Billie’s willing to step away from Ford for a night; they’ve been tied at the hip ever since they became official.
Ivy, however, is free as a bird. She loves to party, and as a bonus, she draws most of the attention, which immediately puts me at ease.
CHAPTER 13
Braxton
I can’t prove that it was her who left the “special gift” at my door. Not yet, anyway. She was in another country, so that makes it a little bit harder to point blame when she has that kind of alibi. But I just know it was her. I take the small statue from its box. Hues of blues mix with the glass as I turn it over in my hand, fascinated by the detail of the drowned man.
I still have no idea how she’s getting the images from the forensic team. I plan on investigating the team members personally just in case any of them are leaking photos. But a woman like Hope Ivanov has enough money to afford any bribe or service, so it might be an outside source entirely.
The statue is impressive.
And grotesque.
The perfect display of the darkness pumping through her veins.
I know it’s her. I just do.
I slide it under my bed with the other one. The detail in the art is quite intricate but also fucked up. How she keeps on getting hold of these cases that I’m working on is interesting to me. I always knew her family had deep connections, but that also means the connections run very deep in the police force.