Page 68 of Rebel Hawke

It makes hanging on to that picture seem not as sappy and ridiculous as it often felt over the years after not hearing from her for so long. It makes everything I’ve felt—this quick rush toclaim her and the craving to have her with me constantly and keep her safe—so much more real.

Brushing my lips across her finger and the plastic dinosaur on the top of the ring, I grin at her. “Maybe I’ll have to get you a better one.”

11

ATLAS

Shoving my poker chips into the already large pile in the center of the table, I do my best to keep my game face. Not giving away anything. Because every single man at this table is a vicious opponent who will tear me apart while I’m still breathing, just to hear me scream.

Mostly so they can brag about it at Sunday dinner.

“All in.”

I watch across the table as Coen’s eyes flick up from his cards to meet mine. He doesn’t give anything away, either. An absolutely unmovable mask.

No flinch.

No tell.

Stone-cold.

He wears the same expression I do in the ring.

The tension builds the longer we consider each other until it’s palpable—a living, breathing thing across the round table.

Seated next to his brother, Isaac rubs his hands together and grins. “Oh, this is going to begood.”

Pope chuckles and takes a sip of his beer, watching the stare-down as if it were the O.K. Corral and not my condo. “If I had any money left, I’d be placing it on Atlas right now.”

Coen’s gaze darts to him, and he scowls. “Gee, thanks, asshole.”

Offering a shrug, Pope points his bottle at him. “Just being honest. You look nervous, buddy.”

I wouldn’t say he looksnervous.

As far as I can see, he’s cool, calm, and collected. But Pope has super-secret doctor talents that I don’t. Maybe he’s noticed some slight, almost imperceptible physical change in Coen that I’m missing…

Either way, the ball is in his court now.

It all comes down to one hand—and it can’t be over fast enough for me.

Let’s go, Coen.

Even though Wren is only across the hall at Isaac and Jack’s place, being away from her this long has made me antsy. Though, that may be more about what I have planned for her once everyone leaves than the few hours we’ve spent apart tonight.

Coen tilts his hand toward his chest and pushes in the rest of his chips. “All in. What do you have?”

About fucking time.

I lay out my hand, fighting a grin. “Full house. Kings over aces.”

“Fuck.” He tosses his cards face-down across the table, crosses his arms over his chest, and leans back with a huff, looking annoyed as hell.

Given how pissed he is, I shouldn’t rub it in, but I can’t fight the smirk that pulls at my lips as I grab the pile and drag it over to my side of the table.

Victory at the Hawke family poker table is always sweet.

Pope gives me a golf clap. “I told you, my money was on Atlas.”

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