Page 33 of Restless Hawke
He mutters something under his breath, his exasperation clearly growing.
I can picture him pacing in his office this time of day, having this call with me when he should be focusing on all the other important work he has to do in order to protect Hawke Enterprises on all fronts legally.
Isaac takes a long inhalation that crackles over the line. “Satriano doesn’t just want a pound of flesh. He wants tenbillion pounds. What do you think he’s going to have you do to work that off—toeversatisfy him?”
Anything and everything.
It’s an astronomical figure.
The amount he lost when Atlas won that fight. When he did therightthing and took back his own life by knocking that fucker out in the ring rather than taking the fall that would have benefited Satriano and the odds his bookmakers had set.
Atlas did everything right.
And I dideverythingwrong.
“I don’t know what Satriano will ask of me, Isaac, and I don’t care. I’ll do it if it means he stays away from Atlas and Wren, if he leaves the rest of you alone. Luca said he hasn’t been in contact with anyone since I left.”
Isaac sighs. “No, he hasn’t…”
I feel thebuthe doesn’t say.
Because he doesn’t have to.
We all know there’s always an eerie, peaceful calm before a hurricane comes blowing in off the Gulf. And that’s exactly what Satriano is—a dark, sinister, swirling maelstrom who brings nothing but pain and leaves catastrophic destruction in his wake.
I can’t allow anyone else to be collateral damage.
“That’s good. It means I’ve at least kept him at bay for a while.”
“You really think this is going to work? That you’re going to be able to appease a mob boss like Satriano, a man who shot at us and who blew up The goddamn Grind?”
I flinch at his words, his screams from that day echoing in my head, along with the flashes of crimson splattered across the bistro tables, chairs, the Grand Opening sign, and the people I love the most. Isaac, Kennedy, and Dad’s blood pouring out onto the sidewalk in front of the café. All of us rushing to help to try to save them. Sitting beside their beds in the hospital. Wondering if Dad was ever going to walk out of there alive or if it would be in a coffin.
“Believe me, Isaac, I haven’t forgotten. That’s why I’m here. I have to?—”
Shit.
I don’t even know what I want to say.
“I have to fix this somehow, and this is the only way I know to do it.”
A silence lingers through the line.
“Come home, Coen. We’ll work this out together, I promise. There are ways we can protect Atlas and Wren?—”
I wander over to a big, plush leather chair and slowly lower myself into it, dropping my face into my palm and scrubbing it over it. “What about the rest of you? He could come afteranyof us. You know he wanted a Hawke in his pocket, and now he has it. We all know I’m the most expendable one.”
“What?” Isaac’s voice drops. “Coen, is that really what you think?”
Shit.
I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but now that the words are hanging there between us, it’s not like I can just snatch them back any more than I can the confession I made to Allegra or my final words on the matter to Luca before he left my suite.
“It’s true. I’m the only one who doesn’t have a purpose, doesn’t play a role in the Hawke world. None of our businesses rely on me. No one does.”
This time, Isaac’s silence somehow vibrates with anger even from across the world. “Are you out of your motherfucking mind? You truly have lost it if you believe that.” He releases a frustrated growl. “Ineed you. Mom and Dad need you.Everyoneneeds you.”
“Bullshit!” I shove up out of the chair and stalk back to the bar to refill my drink and immediately down it. “I’ve been gone for a month, and everything has been chugging along, just as it always has. Am I right?”
