Hawke (Protective Hero: Noble Network #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

S olemn Creed Colorado Courthouse

District Attorney Kinley Lincoln was prepared for today’s special session, the sentencing of Barry Ryder and James Devland. Her client and all the other families who were affected needed this closure. Today, they would provide victim impact statements—the prosecuted men needed to hear what they had to say.

Kinley stacked her papers and sorted through her notes. She looked around the courtroom as the gallery filled, spotting her client, Cinder Johnson, in the back row, tucked between two of her huge bodyguards. Cinder was so very brave and, against pleas to keep herself safe in the witness protection, Cinder had insisted.

One had his dark hair slicked in a ponytail. In prior meetings, his long hair had usually been down. He was always the overly protective, quiet one; he never left Cinder’s side. Today, it was overtly clear he was completely enamored with her in the outfit Kinley had personally chosen for her to wear. He leaned over and whispered something that made Cinder blush. Yes, he was smitten, and the feelings were reciprocated.

The other handler bookending her was intense and off-putting. He liked to bark orders and mean mugged everyone while he pulled at his collar. His neck tattoos and massive size had been intimidating. She’d witnessed it in her office when the employees had parted the sea to get out of his way.

His undeniable presence had the opposite effect on her—his energy was electric, tugging at her. As much as she tried, thoughts of him crept into her dreams. She needed to clamp it down. His eyebrows knitted together and slashed over dark and tumultuous eyes. The “don’t mess with me” attitude oozed from every pore.

We’ll see.

They locked eyes and she froze. Not today mister.

He leaned forward and his edge intensified in a ‘ you lookin’ at me? ’ way.

Who’s going to break eye contact first? Kinley was fully prepared to tackle the challenge until she felt a tap on her shoulder from her assistant, but she kept her focus on the intriguing bodyguard. She turned away only to see a smirk cross his powerful lips in her peripheral. Her gaze darted back, and she glared at him. Two can play at the game of wills. I’m proficient at stare downs myself. She tapped her finger to her chin, slipped her glasses mid nose, and peered at him.

The judge banged her gavel, jolting her back to her task. She pulled at the bottom of her suit jacket, giving it a tug, and lifted her chin. The bailiffs entered the courtroom with the two shackled inmates shuffling to their seats. She hoped they would be comfortable in their flaming orange prison uniforms; they would be wearing them for the foreseeable future.

Kinley glanced over her shoulder again and noticed the bodyguards direct their attention to the front of the courtroom, in tracking mode. Cinder Johnson’s handlers shifted and caged her in. She lowered herself, trying to become invisible.

The room buzzed with gasps and whispers. She spun her chair and scanned the gallery, full of all the faces she’d become way too familiar with. Kidnapping, extortion, theft, distributing drugs were nothing compared to the murders of innocent people and a vendetta spanning decades against the upstanding former Fire Chief.

The Triple D bike club had been responsible for three deaths the day they decided to rob the pharmacy, killing Thomas and Beth Winslow and Evan Parker’s brother Adam. Barry Ryder deserves imprisonment for his maliciousness, influencing his followers in the Denver Devils Delinquents. Therefore, she fought hard for justice. For the innocents harmed in his wrath. Barry Ryder, his counterpart, James Devland, and his motorcycle club were evil. She nodded and gave a sympathetic gaze to the Winslow family, Evan Parker, Cinder’s family, her parents, and siblings Andrea, Roman, and Brady. They’d lost years together, not knowing if she was dead or alive. And so many more. Everyone lost loved ones by his hand. The impact statements were always bittersweet. Somehow, she hoped she would do them proud.

Judge Judith Downs banged her gavel once more, addressing the courtroom and announcing the upcoming victim witness statements.

Kinley whipped her head to the prisoners. Order became disorder as the drug ringleader Barry Ryder yelled, “I don’t have to listen to any sob stories, you morons. Just rip the bandage off and send us off our merry little way.” He eyed someone in the gallery and gave him a quick nod.

In a millisecond, she was tumbled backwards as two onlookers hurdled themselves over the railing and went on a rampage to take the bailiff’s weapon. The second guy, James Devland, wrestled another guard for the keys to the handcuffs. A couple of beefy arms yanked Kinley back and told her to get down, so she huddled with her assistant and paralegal behind a couple of chairs.

There was another frenzied shuffle from behind and she caught sight of Cinder and her three handlers taking off into the judge’s chambers. The door slammed. There was nowhere to go. She wouldn’t be able to run if she wanted to, her muscles were wrung so tight. If she stood, she would turn into a glob of jelly.

Uniformed guards entered from outside and subdued the criminals. She tucked herself closer and prayed this horrible thing would end before anyone got killed. People scattered in every direction, running out of every exit. Men stood as united fronts, shielding their loved ones. Others were barreling forward. Two firefighters tackled the onlooker in cahoots with the suspects. DEA agent Cade Winslow did some move she had only seen in action films, pummeling Barry Ryder to the floor. Yes! It was only fitting. Another agent karate chopped Devland and freed the guard from his grasp.

Screams echoed off the walls. Kinley’s heart pounded as she sucked in air. She clung to her staff, hoping they wouldn’t get hurt.

Hawke guarded the door of the judge’s chambers with an umbrella he’d missile toward an intruder and a coatrack he’d snap in half to impale anyone trying to get past his team member Ryker. There was a tap at the door. Ryker peeked his head inside.

“All clear. Everyone copacetic in here? The buttheads are subdued; it’s safe to return. Time to get this show on the road.”

Safe to return? I’ll be the judge of that. Hawke put the coatrack and umbrella aside. He stalked forward as the door swung wide. Ry stepped aside and two uniformed guards waved them on, with Luca close behind. Hawke glanced over his shoulder and gave Gunner and CJ a good to go nod. He waved them forward and Gunner helped calm a shaking CJ. Each grabbed an arm and aided her out the door. They were used to this and had it down to a science.

Hawke eyed the district attorney as someone helped her up and he stopped. She pushed her hair out of her face, and he gave her an assuring nod. She looked stunned, something he wasn’t used to seeing from the strong-willed attorney.

The witness statement seemed to soothe and redirect the room and why they were there. Hawke sensed CJ was getting closer to her time the more she jittered. He leaned in and whispered, “You’ve practiced what you’ve wanted to say for years if you had a chance. This is your time. Remember why we are here. Soon this will be over.”

She gave him one of the smiles he’d grown accustomed to over the past decade. She shot up and walked to the podium.

Hawke examined the room. One wrong move from the orange cream puffs and he’d flatten them. He directed his attention to the district attorney, who was now calm and focused. “CJ, could you please address the court and state your full name?” She walked around her attorney’s table, closer to the podium. “Cinder, take all the time you need.”

Hawke listened to CJ’s emotional encounter. The team had witnessed the heartbreak first-hand, how it ate at her soul over the years. It gnawed at his gut, seeing how much she loved her family but knowing she’d only have today. Once a sixteen-year-old girl, now grown, she’d lost ten years of her life being with them because in a micro-minute, she’d seen too much. CJ had taken down an entire syndicate underbelly, and she’d only get a hello and goodbye with her family before she was in the program and on the run again.

Hawke’s head swiveled toward Barry Ryder, who yelled, “Shut up, bitch.”

CJ stood and clutched the wooden podium in front of her. “I have the power today and I waited a long time to speak, so you will listen.” Her voice trembled and pitched a higher octave.

Hawke clapped with the rest of the gallery. He watched the district attorney as she leaned against one of the side railings, listening to CJ. One of his librarian fantasies came to mind until another vile piece of word vomit came from Barry Ryder, threatening her. You will pay was all he needed to hear. Gunner lumbered toward Ryder. Hawke stepped into action and was at his heels. No one messed with their ward, especially one who was like a little sister. Luca and Ryker intercepted Gunner, then Hawke.

Gunner seethed. The judge banged her gavel. CJ spoke her truth, then scurried toward him and Gunner. Hawke saw Tweedle-dick and Tweedle-dumbfuck watching CJ’s every move and jabbed a finger forward. “Turn your sockets away or it will be the last thing you will see.”

Ryder sneered and said something he would regret.

Gunner retraced his steps and pivoted. “Try us. While Hawke’s doing so, I’ll make damn sure you lick your ass up close and personal.”

CJ gasped and placed a hand on her neck. “Yikes,” she winced. “Can’t explain the visual I’m getting right now.”

Hawke glimpsed at the DA as she held her hand over her mouth and chuckled. He winked and traipsed across the room. Another time, counselor.

It had only been five plus weeks, yet Kinley Lincoln had the sense she was under someone’s microscope, though it had intensified in the last two weeks since the Ryder/Devland trial. It was a feeling she knew well after growing up with her parents and all the prestige surrounding the family name. Her uncle had so much resentment and loathing toward his own family, and his bodyguards always gave her trepidation. They had followed her and her mother everywhere, like they were spying on them.

Greed for the family fortune ran deep in her uncle’s veins, and it had only gotten worse since her grandfather had passed away. He didn’t care about family, only the almighty dollar. What he had could feed the northern hemisphere, but it wasn’t enough, and he wanted it all for himself. He’d made it his mission to make her and her mother miserable until their only choice was to leave her father and find a sense of normalcy away from the family’s strife. Kinley had fought to break away like her mother when her parents divorced.

Shaking off the feeling, Kinley pulled her bag over her shoulder and walked to her car in the parking garage. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed a SUV, the same SUV she’d seen before at multiple locations. Not a coincidence. I’m being followed. She momentarily shivered, then recognized that her years of training in Krav Maga self-defense classes were meant for situations like this.

The air was crisp with the promise of an early fall, but that wasn’t the cause. So much had happened, and every day she noticed her senses becoming more heightened. It wasn’t her imagination. A recent burglary in the judge’s chambers was enough to make her wary, since all her litigation files had been stolen, important transcripts and documents from the last several cases she had worked on. There were files going back a decade, involving Barry Ryder’s Triple Ds motorcycle club, drugs, kidnapping, murders.

Solemn Creed was a lot safer with most of them in jail, but the idea of the information from those files in the wrong hands was unnerving. Kinley held her purse close to her chest as her gaze darted everywhere. Clicking the key fob, she peered into the backseat before getting in and locking her doors. Kinley inhaled deeply and waved to the security vehicle doing the nightly rounds.

She only had to travel a few blocks to her apartment, but every car behind her made her heart tick an extra beat. High beam headlights glared when she pulled into her parking spot. The burglary had everyone on edge, including her. Now she was shielding her eyes, the bright lights blinding. Kinley jogged as fast as her three-inch heels would allow, darting to the elevator as the doors closed. She noticed a huge arm block the closing. Her eyes widened as Dark and Mysterious towered over her. She flattened against the back of the tiny elevator, turning the trigger open on her bedazzled mace.

She opened her mouth, but barely made a sound. She swallowed the panic gravel and asked again in a higher octave. “What floor?”

There was only one floor above the ground floor. What am I thinking? She sensed her nerves were shot.

He cocked his head but didn’t respond. Mr. Mysterious was dressed in worn jeans, a tight white t-shirt and a red flannel shirt rolled up over his meaty forearms. He shoved his hands into his front pockets and leaned against the wall but didn’t make eye contact.

Air hung in her lungs. The temperature inside the elevator was stifling. She looked him up and down, noting he had tinted, amber-colored glasses even though it was dark out. Some choices she didn’t understand.

Kinley pulled her purse against her chest and dug for the brass knuckles in the outer pocket. She slid her fingers through the rings. She was hyper aware of his every move and readied her fist, but he was acting as if she wasn’t there.

The doors opened and she took off to the left. The big dude went in the other direction—thank God. She fumbled for her key, shoving the sucker in her lock and slamming the door behind her. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth as she peeked through the keyhole, then secured the deadbolt and chain. Her heart thudded in her chest. A door shut down the hall and she blew out a breath.

“Ah, he must be the new neighbor,” she said to no one.

After the day she had, it was officially wine o’clock. She unscrewed the bottle sitting on her kitchen counter and poured herself a glass. “Ah…” She stretched her neck from side to side, easing her tight muscles. Kinley moved her mouse to wake up her computer. She took a sip from her wineglass and savored the full-bodied, rich flavor of blackberry and spices. Kicking off her shoes, she pulled her client files from her briefcase.

The crash of shattering glass sliced through the night’s calm. Kinley’s window exploded inward, showering the room with deadly shards of glass. Kinley screamed as a pop, pop, pop sounded, flinging back in her chair. She spun around at a banging at the door, then cowered in the corner. The door flung open.

“Get down. Take cover.”

She scrambled behind her desk as bullets whizzed past, tearing through the air with deadly intent. Kinley searched for her phone, her hands sliding over the broken glass as splinters sliced and dug into her flesh. Jagged fragment embedded in her knees. Her body shook uncontrollably. She covered her head and squinted through the depths of her apartment. There were two intruders and a struggle.

Snatching her phone, Kinley curled into a ball, her bloody fingers trembling as she dialed 911. Trapped. Help me. They’re coming to get me. Her heart clobbered her chest. She took pride in handling herself, being resilient, but this was in another stratosphere. Her life was in danger. She needed help. She dragged in a breath—spots were forming in her vision and her hearing felt like being underwater. She shook her head and heard a faint voice on the other end of the call. The dispatcher had answered.

The words shot out of her mouth. “Help, I need help. My name is District Attorney Kinley Lincoln, and someone has been shooting at me.” Her vision clouded again. “I think they are trying to kill me.” Tears rivered down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth. Gunfire lit up the room again and bullets flew, hitting several of her keepsakes. She screamed, choking on her fear. Is this the end? She sobbed. Kinley doubted her life would never be the same again. Her teeth jackhammered uncontrollably.

“Help! Please help me!”