Page 19 of Witness Protection

He slid it toward her.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” she said. “You’re his friend, after all.”

“He’ll be happy you helped me out.”

Once he had the address, he crossed the street to his car, driving the few blocks to Cayden’s house. If he hurt one hair on Sophia’s head, he’d make him die nice and slow.

The house was in disrepair, a real shithole. He didn’t bother to hide his car. His heart raced, and a blind rage built up inside him. Hawk parked in front and went to the first door, noticing there was an apartment number. For a professional, he couldn’t imagine the guy would actually live here. Maybe that junky had given him the wrong information.

He checked the mailboxes and noted “C.W.” for the basement apartment. It could be Cayden’s. He’d give it a shot because, at this point, he had nothing to lose. Hawk descended the concrete stairs and picked the lock. He drew his gun and pushed the door open.

Silence greeted him.

He flicked on a light.

Hawk had the right apartment all right.

There was a gun cleaning kit and empty clips on the coffee table, an overflowing ashtray, and countless pics of Morenov’s place, layouts, security footage, and headshots. He bent down and picked up a picture of Sophia. She was a lot younger in the pic, but those big dark eyes stared back at him. He folded the photo and put it in his pocket, not wanting the bastard to have anything of Sophia’s.

A cat peeked at him from behind the sofa. Hawk refocused, checking out the rest of the small one-bedroom apartment. He found more weapons, boxes of ammo, high-end surveillance equipment, and a kitchen full of booze.

No sign of Sophia.

He rummaged through more paperwork, discovering “C.W.” was short for Cayden Walsh. Did it even matter if he could track down every aspect of this fucker’s life? If he killed Sophia, nothing would matter. He wouldn’t be able to bring her back from death.

He punched his fist through the drywall, savoring the sting on his knuckles. He’d had one duty—protecting Vasily Morenov’s daughter. Vasily was dead, and he had no fucking clue how to find Sophia.

Hawk dropped down on the sofa, trying to think like Cayden. Where would he take her? Why not just assassinate her in their penthouse suite and be done with it? Did he plan on torturing her?

“Fuck!” he shouted.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, wondering if she was alive or dead.

His cell went off. “Yeah.”

“Antonio Baretti Jr. My condolences for your loss.”

The Baretti family had been rivals to the Morenovs for as long as he could remember. They constantly fought for territory, contracts, and supremacy. The fact the piece of shit was calling Hawk after Vasily’s death was an insult.

“I thought you’d be celebrating.”

“I’m not an animal. I had great respect for Vasily. That’s why I’m calling.”

“Oh?”

“You’re hiding his daughter. I’d like to extend an offer of help in finding Vasily’s murderer.”

Hawk didn’t buy it. Men like Antonio Jr. didn’t live for good deeds. It was always about money and power. He was just like his father. “You’re just doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Friends are better than enemies, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Cayden Walsh. He has Sophia. You bring her back to me alive, we can talk about friendship.” He hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

He’d head back to the hotel and look for more clues. The video feed in the lobby would give him something he needed, he was sure of it. They may refuse to help him at the hotel, but he didn’t plan on asking this time.

---