Page 50 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

“Honestly, I don’t know you. And right now, I feel like I’ve been kidnapped. So yeah. It checks out.”

Hawk chuckles low in his throat, it sends chills down my spine. “Fair enough, but you came here willingly. You say you want to be here, but you keep running off.”

“I didn’t run off. I never left.”

He holds up a finger, pressing to my lips.

“It doesn’t matter much now, does it? Because apparently the truth is out in the open.” He pauses for a moment, dropping his hand away. “Izzy, darling. I’m sorry about your friend, and Iwant to help you. But you lied to me, to us, and you couldn’t help yourself. You had to sneak around.”

“What would you have done if you were me?” I blurt out, searching his eyes for some form of kindness, but I’m beginning to doubt any exists.

I hate him, but I also want to taste his lips on mine again. God. This is so confusing.

I want to go back to the way things were, when everything was simple and the only thing I had to worry about was never crossing paths with these psychos.

His hand cups my check, drawing my eyes to meet his gaze. Hawk’s eyes lock onto mine like he’s got a secret to share, and he isn’t letting me leave the conversation until I hear every single word. He’s standing so close that his presence practically wraps around me, all heat. He’s not soothing like Vance or endearing like Tank. This one is on a whole different level, but I guess that’s why he’s the President.

I try to hold my ground, crossing my arms defiantly.

“Got something on to say now that the truth is out in the open?” I ask, my voice deliberately light, hoping it masks the rapid pace of my heartbeat.

He doesn’t answer right away, just stares me down like he’s reading an instruction manual and trying to figure out exactly which button to press next. “Look at me,” he says finally, low and commanding.

I rollmy eyes for good measure but meet his gaze because, let’s face it, ignoring Hawk is like trying to ignore a loaded gun pointed right at your face.

“What?” I snap, leaning in a little because two can play this game. “You got some plan for me? Another punishment?”

“For now, I just want you to know that I’m watching. Every move you make, every decision—you’re not slipping by unnoticed.”

He leans back just enough to give me room to breathe but not enough to break the spell.

“You’ve told me all this before…”

“My God. You really do have a mouth on you.” His hands grasp my chin and cheeks in a hard grasp, forcing me to almost lose the towel. “Maybe I should put something in it.” For a wild, terrifying second, I think he’s actually considering it, but then his grip lessens slightly. “I know you think you're invincible, but your time will run out if you keep this shit up.”

My breath gets caught in my throat, desire and fear warring inside me like a raging sea.

“You still never answered me,” I say sharply. “What if it was Vance or Tank who went missing? What would you do? I’m desperate, Hawk.”

“I’d ruin anyone who hurt them. I already lost one man, and I sure as shit am not going to let it happen again, which is why you are a risk to me.”

He lets go then and takes a step back.

“We don’t have your friend, Izzy,” he says flatly. “So, you can go back from wherever the hell you came from.”

If they don’t have her, then there’s nothing for me. No clue. No evidence. Nothing to take to Reynolds. And all this means, the Puppeteer is waiting in the shadows.

“Wait—” I grasp his hand. I’m desperate. “I need your help. I need to show you something.”

“Five minutes,” he relents.

My bag. Where is it? I hurry past him out the bathroom door, scanning the apartment. I see my purse sitting on one of the kitchen chairs.

I reach into, holding my breath, they haven’t already found the doll leg or note.

“I know that I’m little use to you now since you’ve figured out, I’m not with the Dead Demons,” I start, relieved to find the Puppeteer’s threat still there.

“Oh, I think I could find some use for you.”

---