Page 87 of Restless Hawke
Dad’s brow furrows deeply. “Hiscasinos?”
I nod slowly. “Apparently, he’s been buying them up along the Gulf Coast.”
And heknewI would tell the rest of the Hawkes about this development.
It wasn’t bychancethat the man appeared when he did. I’ve been home for over a week, and he chose thatmomentto come to my place for a reason. Just like he chose now to let it be known what he’s been up to—becoming our biggest competitor.
“Shit.” Dad scrubs his hand over his cheek. “How did we not know about this?”
“How does he get away with any of this without us knowing what’s going on?”
“I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise.” Dad leans his hip against the counter, relaxing slightly, but really, I know he’s just taking the weight off his bad leg. “After all, this shit with him all started with him trying to partner with Cass when he was Falco Enterprises to open the hotel casino across from us. It makes sense he wouldn’t completely abandon that business plan. It’s a surefire way to fuck with us. And there is a lot of money in it…”
“And a lot of ways to rig the system in his favor on the casino floor.”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and he nods.
The more I think about it, the more obvious this move becomes. And the dumber I feel for not having seen it coming. “There’s a reason the mob went to Vegas and dug their heels in. And apparently, Damon thinks that bringing me in to play and stack the tables is going to help his bottom line.”
“Well”—Dad sighs—“I suppose there are worse things he could ask you to do…”
That’s exactly what worries me.
Satriano won’t battle us for supremacy in this hotel and casino war. He will just eliminate us any way he can—and now he has an inside man.
“It’s too easy, Dad.”
He nods, his salt-and-pepper hair shifting with the movement as he sets his mug in front of him on the counter. “I know, son.”
“This is only the beginning.”
Without any way of anticipating what his end game might be.
We’ve never been able to, when it comes to Satriano. He appeared from the literal grave after Isaac killed Leonardo and slowly worked his way into our lives while observing us undetected. Then he struck—hard and fast—and caused irreparable damage in his bid to take over New Orleans from Roselli.
Each blow hurt the Hawkes more and more.
Dad is living proof of the damage he caused.
Yet, the man continues to string us along. To play us in some sinister chess game where we can’t see the board or strategize our next moves.
“You haven’t told anyone else about meeting with him?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know how to. I can’t—” Emotion lodges in my throat, and I try to swallow past it. “I can’t keep apologizing when nothing’s getting better. Things are only getting worse…”
My hands start to shake, all the frustration and guilt and need to destroy the man who now has me in a chokehold finally boiling over.
“Fuck!”
I grab Dad’s mug and chuck it across the kitchen.
It shatters against the tile, ceramic and coffee splattering across the pristine floor, the same way it feels like I’ve been splintered since the moment I made the biggest mistake of my life.
Dad barely flinches.
He casually glances at the damage. “I understand how you’re feeling, son. I’ve been there. How do you think I felt when I discovered whatIhad done? What those actions had wrought?”
Tears burn in my eyes, ones I’ve been holding back for months, refusing to let fall because it felt like caving, like surrendering. “What the fuck do I do? I can’t tell him no, and God only knows what he’ll ask of me next.”
