Page 8 of Hawke

My autopilot was still working strong, but being able to concentrate on anything but work was difficult.

“And then he touched my hand. It was like warmth engulfed me,” she muttered. “It’s like love at first sight but by touching. His skin was cold, but when he lifted his hand off my arm I was warm, like all over.” She leaned on my shoulder, sighing swoonfully.

“Yeah, is that right?” I tried to listen, but I couldn’t. It was all too familiar.

I pulled out my keys and rattled them, opening the building so we could step inside. Our apartment building was a fortress. I was surprised Switch didn’t put fingerprint locks on the doors as well.

“This is my stop,” Savannah said. “I’m going to go have some spicy dreams now.” She wiggled her fingers at me and opened the door, shutting it quickly. I heard the click and then I was left alone with my thoughts.

Which wasn’t a good thing.

I trailed up two more flights of stairs, opening the door to my three-bedroom apartment which I shared with two other roommates. They didn’t work at the bar. They worked in a cleaning business owned by Iron Fang. Locke made sure all the homes they cleaned were safe, which I think was another perk of working for the Iron Fang.

Locke was all about protection. He protected the survivors, the weak, the physically broken. But obviously, he couldn’t protect us from everything, even his own men.

I let out a deep sigh as I carelessly tossed my keys on the counter.

Once I entered my room, I took the thick, heavy blackout curtains and closed them. An unusual thing to do, because I liked to leave them open and unlocked. Because I was a hopeless romantic, waiting for someone to come in and take me away from the nightmares.

And sometimes it happened. Hawke could get in anywhere. He would climb through that window and snuggle up next to me while I was supposed to be sleeping. I didn’t know if he knew I was awake or not. I’d like to think he knew I loved his touch and wanted him there always.

But by morning, all I could hear was the sound of the wind blowing through the window, the coldness seeping into my skin because he was gone. No more warmth.

The only evidence of him ever being there was the faint scent of his peppermint schnapps and his musk.

My smile dropped, my finger fisting the curtain.

It wasn’t time to cry, not just yet.

I reached under the bed, pulling out a large duffle bag. Inside was a burner phone I’d kept hidden, filled with the names of people from the bar that I could call if I got in a bind, such as Anaki or Bones. They didn’t know I had their numbers, let alone my own phone, and it was better that way.

After staring at it for a long time, I shoved it back in the bag, then grabbed clothes I’d bought over the year. Some had never been worn, like those purchased from lightly used consignment stores. The clothes that I would often find hanging in my closet I had never bought; they just appeared out of nowhere with the change of the seasons.

I knew where they came from, and what I had once thought was a sweet gesture was now dirty to me. They were payment for stolen kisses. His apology for stringing me along.

I pulled them off the hangers, throwing them into the trash bin. Just like what he’d done to me.

Out with the old.

I stuffed the bag with the last bit of clothing, preferring to wait to pack toiletries and last-minute items, and zipped up the bag. As I threw it under the bed, I heard a thump at the window.

My heart raced, my blood rushing to my ears like turbulent, raging rapids.

My hands shook as I stepped quietly to the window. The last bit of hope of seeing Hawke on the other side fueled my curiosity. I gripped the thick curtain, ready to pull it open only to pause.

If I opened this window, I would be weak. I would let him in my heart once again, and I couldn’t do that. I would not allow him to do that to me again.

So, I let go of the curtain, shaking my head, and backed away.

Not this time.

I turned on my heel, grabbing the diner apron that hung right beside the door. I was the pastry chef at a diner downtown that had nothing to do with the Iron Fang. And as far as I knew, no one knew about it.

I pulled it over my head, tying it around my waist, and I heard the tap at the window again.

I rolled my lips together, pushing the door to my bedroom open and left without another glance.

I stepped quietly down the stairs, my heart racing as I unlocked the door and peered outside. My window was on the other side of the building, but my feet betrayed me and carried me to the corner of the building nearest my window.

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