Page 52 of Savage Guardian

It was a long night…a long flight to L.A. from New York City, but he’d finally made it home. Not for the first time, he was grateful for the family’s private jet. Waving thanks to his driver, Jack, he walked up the flagstone walkway to the beachfront condo he shared with this girlfriend, Shannon. They’d been together for four years, having met at a party during his sophomore year at Harvard. She was gorgeous. He was enthralled by her wit, her charm, her elegance…and how absolutely filthy she was in bed. And he’d come home a day early today to surprise her. He hadn’t seen her in almost three months, having spent all that time in New York, helping his father clean up a mess his brother made with the investment firm his grandfather had built from the ground up over sixty years ago. At twenty-four, he was young for being so responsible, but he’d been desperate for his father’s attention, whose eyes were always on the oldest, the heir, Liam. But Haakon had been grooming himself to take his place in the family business since the day he could hold a fountain pen.

For months now, Shannon had been dropping hints about getting married, leaving magazines open to high end ads for rings, or images of brides and grooms dancing in their wedding finery. He loved her and he could take a hint. He had the ring in his pocket, and that night, he’d ask her to marry him.

Coming through the front door, he tossed his keys into the blown glass bowl on the foyer table, then dropped his travel bag on the floor. It was early still, so she would still be in bed sleeping. He’d take a shower, wash the late night, early morning off of him, then join her there…to show her just how much he missed her….

But she wasn’t alone in their bed.

The ringing of his cell brought him back to his body with a jerk. Memories of ten years ago were as clear and ugly as they had been then. The pain was still there, but the type of pain had morphed. From the agony to rage to hatred. Why was he even thinking about that now? It had happened years ago. He’d peeled off his brother and ex and hadn’t looked back. But still…the shadow of what they had done endured. Planted roots. Roots so deep he hadn’t been home to the McGregor family estate in nine years…because they were there. Liam and Shannon. Married and living a life of privilege withouthimthere to remind them of their sins.

Shaking it off, he tugged his cell from his pocket. Checking the screen, he quickly answered.

“Grimm, brother, what did you find?” Hawk asked, pressing the cell to his ear while watching Fae sitting with Tessa, the two women laughing over something Tessa had said. Carrie was pouting in the corner in the booth nearest the bar. She was with Tammi and Rosa, two club women…and she looked like she fit.

Fuck. That wasn’t fair, Carrie might have been a flirt…and a little vain, but comparing her to club whores wasn’t right. She wasAoibheal, after all. She had good qualities. He just had seen none for himself yet.

You haven’t seen her writing music or playing an instrument or heard her singing, either.

Tearing his thoughts from that niggling suspicion, he listened to Grimm’s report.

“The vic’s room was empty, nothing but his overnight bag and laptop. I’m going to bring that back to the clubhouse for AFK to have a look through it. Hopefully, he finds something other than tuba porn.”

Hawk snickered, despite the weightiness of the moment.

“Checked with the housekeeping staff about who might have been seen coming or going from the room, and they said they had seen no one. Then again, the seediness of this place—you can rent a room by the hour—it’s no surprise no one saw anything. No one sees anything in a place like this. One maid, though, complained about an odor coming from one of the other rooms at the end of the building with a Do Not Disturb sigh on the door. The room furthest on the end.”

“Best room to commit skeevy shit. No one close.” Hawk’s train of thought chugged right along.

“That’s what I was thinking. So, I did a little B ‘n’ E,” Grimm said, a strange tightness in his voice.

“What?” Tension in his gut told him that Grimm’s next words would be ugly.

Grimm heaved a sigh and said, “Found the body, brother.” Hawk cursed. “And it ain’t pretty.”

“Shit.” Hawk’s curse drew eyes; Fae turning to look at him, her expression concerned.

“The psycho asshole tied him down, took his time cutting him. Blood every-fucking-where, brother. I wouldn’t be surprised if he walked out of here covered in it.”

“You think he left anything behind?”

“Nah. Not that I can see. Other than the blood and headless body, there’s nothing here. I’ll send in an anonymous call to Benson, have him and the CSIs do their thing, see if they can find any prints.” An anonymous call would make sure the police found the scene, but the Raiders would be hands-off in the official case, like Odin wanted.

Hawk snorted. “Place like that is going to be covered in prints and DNA. And, more than likely, Banshee was careful. You don’t decide to catfish and then torture and murder someone without taking precautions.”

“Right,” Grimm grumbled. “I’ll make the call, then come back. After this, I need a fucking drink. Or twenty.”

“Yeah, brother.” Hawk disconnected the call and turned to make his way across the room to where Trouble was sitting, Laurie on his lap, and Daisy snuggled up beside him. Both women were topless, grinding against the VP. Trouble, for all that naked attention, seemed…dispassionate. Like his body was there, but his mind was somewhere else.

Mentally shrugging, Hawk slipped into the seat opposite the threesome in the booth.

“What’cha need, brother?” Trouble drawled, lifting his glass of Kentucky bourbon to take a long draw.

“Club business.” Laurie and Daisy whined, both knowing what those words meant, before removing themselves from Trouble’s person and sashaying away to join Carrie, Tammi, and Rosa at the other table. Trouble didn’t even bother acknowledging their departure.

“This ‘bout our earlier business?” Trouble asked before finishing the remains of his drink.

Hawk nodded. “Grimm headed to the motel where J.P. Dalton had checked in. Apparently, that was also where he didn’t check out.”

Trouble curled his lip in dark humor. “He good?”

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