Kristen Ashley - Mystery Man

“It wasn’t exactly a rescue effort,” Luke Stark put in and my head snapped to see him standing two feet from Hawk and my side. “More like a clean up one,” he finished.

“What?” I asked.

“Glad I work for Lee,” Vance Crowe muttered and my head snapped to the other side to see him standing two feet from us there. “Lee doesn’t like mess. Fuckin’ hell.” Vance leaned forward to look at Luke. “Did you see Jorge? He walked into that shit and didn’t even blink.”

“Forgot that smell,” Luke muttered and shook his head. “Fear.” Then his lip curled.

Oh boy.

I looked at Hawk. “What’d you do?”

Hawk looked at me. “Not a big fan of bein’ tasered, hung on a hook and men takin’ fists to me, babe.”

This was not an answer.

“What’d you do?” I repeated.

“Yeah, what’d you do?” Shirleen asked from behind me and she sounded more than a little curious, actually, she sounded excited.

“Thought we agreed ignorance is bliss,” Hawk said to me.

“What,” I started. “Did,” I went on. “You do?” I finished and he grinned at me, the dimples popped out and seeing them again after thinking I’d never see them again, my heart skipped a beat.

“Commando Lesson One,” Hawk answered. “You got a hostage you know is trained, you incapacitate him. They should have drugged me. They didn’t. They tied my ankles but left me hanging. Tyin’ ankles doesn’t do shit. The power, babe, is in my thighs. I get a head between my thighs, the neck is vulnerable –”

“Okay,” I said swiftly, “I’m done with Commando Lessons. That was the first and last.”

Hawk’s dimples came back. Then he set me on my feet. Then the dimples disappeared.

Uh-oh.

“All right, Sweet Pea, Commando Woman Lesson One, you get a text like you got, you call it into base and you do it immediately.”

I was right except uh-oh didn’t quite cover it.

“Hawk –”

“You do not go visit your local, friendly motorcycle club to recruit assistance.”

“Ha –”

“You do not drag your dispatch cosmo girlfriend into your man’s shit firstly, because it might get her ass fired but especially because it might get her ass hurt.”

“Cabe –”

“You do not set your banker friend on a data search that’ll get his ass hauled to the local FBI offices for an interrogation that will be really, fuckin’ uncomfortable.”

Uh-oh!

“Ca –”

“You do not,” he leaned into me, his serious face turning hard, “ever, offer yourself up for exchange.”

“Baby –”

“And you do not go on the lam with your protective custody witness sister.”

“I –”

“Confirm you get me, babe.”

“But –”

He leaned in so he was an inch from my face. “Confirm…you… get… me.”

I stared at him.

Then my day surged through my brain which sent acid through my system and I lost my mind.

“I will do,” I planted my hands on my hips and stared in his black eyes, “what I have to do first, to make sure you’re safe and second, to make sure I get to make more memories with you so, okay, I’ll call base but then I will do whatever the fuck I have to do to make that happen so, no, Hawk, I do not get you!”

“Gwen –”

“I’ve been panicked all day!” I shouted, throwing up my hands and taking a step back from him. “You didn’t give me Commando Woman Lesson One this morning. No, you kissed me good-bye and said you’d see me tonight and I went about my business of the day to make sure you’d see me tonight!”

“Gwen –”

“You were bleeding from your ear!” I shrieked.

He reached out with both hands, caught me and hauled me into his body, whispering, “Baby.”

My hands clenched in his tee as his arms slid around me. “It was you or my sister. Do you know what that kind of decision does to your head?”

“All right, Sweet Pea, I get it,” he said gently.

“Yes, Cabe,” I stared him in the eyes, “of anyone, you do. You know what I was facing today. You know.” I watched his eyes close, my hands released his shirt, slid up to wrap around the sides of his neck, his eyes opened and he showed me he not only got it, he really, really got it. So my voice was quiet when I went on. “I can get why you’re angry, honey, but cut me some slack. I was doing the best I could do so you didn’t become a picture on my fucking refrigerator.”

His neck bent and his forehead touched mine then slid to the side, his cheek hit mine and that slid down too and then his face was in my neck and his arms got tight.

In return I circled his shoulders with my arms and pressed close.

“They need a minute,” I heard Luke say in a way that was kind of a suggestion but more a get your asses out of here.

I felt people move around and I heard a door close. Then I turned my head and put my lips to Hawk’s ear.

“You think you could make a call so the Feds don’t do a cavity search on Troy?” I asked.

Hawk lifted his head and looked at me.

“Yeah,” he answered, his lips twitching.

“You think, before Ginger goes back to the Feds, Dad and Meredith can visit with her?”

His eyes warmed and he repeated, “Yeah.”

“Okay,” I nodded, relaxing into him. “Now do you think, since you’ve been close enough to touch for at least five minutes and you’re safe and healthy enough to get pissed at me, you could finally kiss me?”

His eyes got warmer and he added intense.

“Yeah.”

My hand slid up to cup his head. “Then kiss me, baby,” I whispered.

He stared into my eyes then his head slanted and, just like Hawk, he gave me what I wanted most in the world.

Cabe Delgado waited while the garage door opened then he pulled his Camaro in beside Gwen’s Mustang. He parked, grabbed his workout bag from the seat beside him and folded out of the car.

He walked in front of the Mustang and saw the Expedition sitting on the other side of the ‘Stang. Gwen called it the “station wagon” and hated driving it because it was so huge. However Hawk had a rule. She had their boys in the car with her, she was in the Expedition. She was off on her own, she could take the Mustang. She gave him lip, told him he was too damned bossy but only because that was what she did. She knew the Expedition was safer and Gwen would do anything to keep her boys safe.

He walked in front of the Expedition, through the door that led into the house and dumped his bag in the utility room on his way to the huge, open plan kitchen. She’d left the under the counter lights on for him. He moved through the space and turned off the lights, heading to the wide, carpeted staircase that had a nightlight lit in an outlet halfway up. He didn’t need her to light his way but she did it anyway partially because, if one of the boys got up, she wanted them to have light and partially because, when her man got home she wanted him to know she was thinking about him.

He’d lied to Gwen although he didn’t know it at the time. He needed space. Or, more accurately, he needed a Hawk and Gwen zone, he needed to give his boys their zones and they all needed a family zone. So he’d moved his family from Gwen’s farmhouse to this five bedroom, three car garage “monstrosity” as Gwen called it. She only allowed the move because it came with Janine cleaning it. She said she had a life rule and that rule was that she refused to live in a house that it took longer than two hours to clean. Now she lived in a house that took longer than two hours to clean, Hawk just made it so she didn’t have to clean it.

He silently climbed the staircase, turned right and moved through the large open space at the top, one of the many family zones. He didn’t see the pictures but he knew they were there. Gwen decorated in photos. She wasn’t a knick knack sort of woman, thank fuck.

Hawk liked the way his wife decorated. There were pictures everywhere, on every surface, on all the walls, hell, you could barely see the fridge for the photos tacked to it. There were pictures of her, of him, of their two boys, their families, their friends – alone, in pairs, in huddles, all candid, nothing posed, nearly every photo everyone was smiling.

Or laughing.

And there were pictures of Simone and Sophie. Gwen had conspired with his mother and made certain Simone and Sophie had their places amongst her décor and his woman decorated in family.

It took awhile to get used to this, it took awhile for the pain of seeing them every day to dull. Then it dulled. Then he saw what was in the photos instead of felt the loss of it. And what was in the photos were memories. Those memories were bittersweet but, with time, and with Gwen’s guidance, the sweet outweighed the bitter.

Hawk turned right again at the first door.

He walked in and saw Asher asleep in his bed on his belly wearing loose shorts and a t-shirt, his black hair a mess, his limbs splayed, taking up more space than any four year old kid should in a double bed. The covers had been kicked off. Even as a baby, he’d kicked off his covers. Ash liked to be free. No restraints. Even in sleep. Hawk’s Mom said he’d done the same thing and Hawk learned not to be surprised at this.

Asher was his boy in more ways than one. Ash was intense, always had been from nearly the instant he left Gwen’s womb. And if Hawk was home, Asher was with him. From the second he could crawl, when Hawk opened the door to the house, Asher would be sitting on his ass, staring at the door, waiting for his Dad to walk in. It wasn’t clingy. Even as an infant, Asher had been able to entertain himself.

He just liked to do it close to his Dad.

Hawk walked to him and bent, doing what he did frequently, in fact every night he got home when his boys were asleep. He rested his hand light on the heat of his son’s back and felt him breathe. Once his son’s life communicated itself through Hawk’s hand, he lifted that hand and slid it over Asher’s thick hair. Then he left the room, crossed the hall and entered another door.

Bruno was on his back, one arm thrown wide, one knee up and dropped, the other leg straight, hand on his belly. Covers half-on, half-off. The stuffed bear with an ill-fitting Broncos t-shirt had fallen from his outstretched hand.

Bruno sat quietly on his Granddad’s lap during every Broncos home game. It was fucking uncanny but Hawk could swear his two year old son’s study of the game was more intense than Bax’s. Even if a game was on TV, Bruno would stop, sit his ass down and stare at it. If he was awake, he was wearing a football helmet and if Hawk or Gwen tried to take it off him, the kid pitched one helluva fit. So they let him wear it everywhere but to the dinner table and to bed. This was a good call considering when Bruno wasn’t eating, watching football on television or wrestling with his brother, he was tackling shit.

Hawk bent, his hand going to Bruno’s chest, resting lightly and his eyes roamed his son’s face as his hand felt his son’s heartbeat.

Both his boys looked like him, black hair, black eyes. Bruno got his dimples and Gwen praised the Lord loudly, and hilariously, that he did and she did this often. Nearly every time she saw them which was a lot. Bruno, like his Mom, liked to laugh and, like his Mom, he did it often.

At that memory, Hawk smiled at his son.

His wife liked her husband’s dimples. Hawk just liked his son’s.

He walked out of the room and his cell went. He headed to the master suite pulling it out of a pocket of his cargoes. He turned the display to face him and his brows knit.

It said “Gwen Calling”.

He didn’t answer as his eyes went to their door, seeing weak light coming from under it.

She was awake. This was surprising. It was late.

Fuck.

She was nearly nine months pregnant with their, what Gwen decreed, final child. She’d decreed this because the ultrasound showed it was a boy. She was done. Giving up the ghost. She had a lifetime ahead of her of fights, blood, drunkenness, puke and pregnancy scares. She wasn’t going to make it worse.

This was why he let her name their kids. Deacon was gestating in her belly. Hawk didn’t like the name Asher until Asher made it into the world. He really didn’t like the name Bruno until he met Bruno. And he seriously didn’t like the name Deacon but he reckoned he’d grow to like it.