Page 73 of Taming Hawke

“Let her go, you fucking asshole,” Hawke spits out, and the man who has a gun pointed at him knocks him on the back of the head with it, causing Hawke to fall flat on his face. He’s out cold, unmoving.

“Let ’em go, Santana, it’s me you want, not them.” Quill growls deep in his throat before looking at me, and then at Hawke.

“Ha, ha, ha. Look at you. You’re not such a big shot now, are you, mancho?”

“What do you want?” Quill demands.

“What I want from you, Quill, is for you to take over from su señor padre. I’ve grown impatient waiting for you to decide.”

Jasmine. Oh, God, Jasmine. Do I tell Quill? If I don’t she could lose the baby.

“Quill,” I say crying. “Jasmine…. Jasmine.”

Quill’s eyes snap up to mine, his jaw clenching. “No! Where is she?” he shouts.

“The baby… she’s bleeding.”

A gut-wrenching cry screams out of Quill’s mouth. “Please. Please let me get her to the hospital,” I beg this Santana man. “She’s in pain, she needs help.”

Santana smiles like it’s the best news he’s heard in years. “Of course, my carino. All I want from Quill is his word that he will be my distributor, and replace his father. Then I will let you get your friend care.”

I look back to Quill, who’s fighting so hard to undo the ties that bind him from behind. The man holding the gun on him kicks him behind his knees, and he falls to them. “You motherfucker,” Quill spits. “You’ll pay for this, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Santana laughs. “Ah, Quill, you seem to forget that I own most of this town.” He tightens his hand on my neck and I squeal in pain. He raises the gun to my forehead, the cold metal pushing hard against my delicate skin. I know I’ll bruise from the pressure of it.

And then everything happens so quickly. A shot sounds out from the floor, making me scream when Santana’s blood splatters on my face. Then Hawke rolls onto his back and points a gun up at the man standing behind him. But it’s too late—pain like nothing I’ve felt before shoots through me. Shocked, I look down and see bright red blood soaking into my white top; I’ve been shot. I fall weakly to my knees, then onto my side, the pain slicing through me. I watch in slow motion as Quill frees himself and grabs his gun from his jeans, shooting at the man behind him.

Gunshots are being fired, their flashes making me blink, the ground reverberating with their force, but I can’t hear a thing. I’m sinking and falling. Then I see Hawke hovering over me, yelling something, but I can’t hear the words. I focus instead on the tears brushing his lashes, and reach up to cup his cheek. I whisper, “I love you, Hawke. Always remember that.”

He’s shouting something back to me, but he’s drifting away as I feel myself falling. And then complete darkness is all that remains.

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