Hawke (Protective Hero: Noble Network #2)

Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

K inley’s heart raced the minute the mammoth bodyguard with the neck tattoos opened the motel room door. He was a commanding force every time their paths crossed. She had to compose herself when her feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete and her knees shook. Her mouth was dry, her palms were moist, and whatever was going on with her libido needed to stay under the rock it had been under—permanently. She’d never had expected to be anywhere near this guy again, let alone ever forgetting the days in the courtroom. When she called CJ to the stand and the fight broke out, the bodyguards had gone into action. The guard with the neck tattoos had such a presence and hard not to be drawn to. He was so serious and hyper-focused. She had glanced back now and then to assure CJ and caught him laser focused on her every word.

All CJ’s guards in the Noble Network were talked about by every employee who encountered them. Maybe that’s why the governor and judicial officials hired their security services to protect her, the judge, and anyone else who could be threatened by their involvement with the Denver’s Devils Delinquent bike club. The judicial system and their campaign against the war on drugs had paid off. Everyone thought Solemn Creed would be back to normal after the last of them were in jail.

The thought was apparently premature.

Once she focused on moving forward and her legs got the sticky note, she walked toward the bodyguard, who looked like he got up on the wrong side of the bed. He was as intense as ever. When she drew nearer, her body buzzed with excitement. No one had ever triggered this response before, and it was off-putting. She was not the I gotta have a man, get married, have babies kind of a girl . Most often she was unfazed. Men in her life, going way back to her childhood and in her profession, thought she was not an equal and that she had to prove herself.

Her father had played a huge hand in that. He held old-fashioned beliefs that women should be seen and not heard. Pompous asshat. She had done it all without his money or opinions. She was a career woman, and no man had a place in her life. Too many complications did a number on her. No one had the right to undo the damage she worked so hard to conquer. This mess jinxed everything. If they didn’t find the people behind the threats in her life, she’d never get back to her structured order.

Tall, Dark, and Stormy with the body ink introduced himself, but she knew who he was. He was hard to forget. Kinley was instantly tongue-tied, even more than the last few times they’d run into one another. The tattoos were his storyboard. She’d seen memorial tattoos with dog tags and crosses with dates. A lump lodged in her throat and instantaneously she had the urge to weep. Dark ebony and steely gray soldiers shadowed his skin with pops of crimson near a dagger and a rose. Intricate patterns carried symbolic weight. A metaphorical rite of passage of a warriors experience. Pride swirled through each design.

Kinley inspected the authenticity of his neck art which started above his Adam’s apple and wrapped around the sides, trailing below his collar and, apparently, down his massive chest. She edged closer as if willed. Emblems morphed off the skin. Kinley put her hand on her own neck and winced at the hours of pain he endured.

He scrutinized her with his dark stare and knitted brows and tramped away with even more of an edge. She’d offended him, crossing a line somehow, looking at them. Did he not want to help her? Why were they going to all the effort if he had an epic case of the cranks? She could do without his negative energy and if he didn’t watch it, he was about to get her best cross-examination. She may be in a vulnerable situation, but she was not a defenseless little Jane who needed a Tarzan.

They entered the room and she looked around, choosing not to sit on the bed. When Dark and Stormy leaned back, it was like a staycation from all the danger surrounding her. His muscles rippled under his well-fitted T-shirt. At closer inspection, his neck tattoo looked as if it was raised in areas, marbled, almost 3-D in spots. A gasp hitched from her throat. Allegiant blues and hues of Americana red presented itself with an eagle, each feather raised from his skin as if it were soaring.

He gawked at her and she averted her gaze to the dusty old, framed print of wildlife, the only thing in the room to look at. Kinley ran a hand over her arms to ward off the chill of the here and now. His gaze was locked on her every move, his voice deep, with a graveled edgy texture that boomed in the small motel. Kinley closed her eyes—she hated to admit there was something soothing about it. She pulled at her sweatshirt.

After a few moments, she could sense their testosterone-fueled conversation crackling in the air and ricocheting off the walls. Kinley felt like a fly on that wall. Hello! Over here! You know the situation you’re talking about? That involves moi. What’s with this guy? The other bodyguards were at least polite. The Grumpy Gus had a chip on his shoulder and needed a long swig of some happy juice before he and his attitude gnawed at her. What’s going on? My thoughts are ping-ponging everywhere. Girl. Focus. Asking me if I’m sure about whether I saw something . “Sheesh,” she said louder than she thought. Kinley had to bite her tongue but couldn’t help herself from a good cross-examination. Anger that had been simmering under the surface bubbled up. She clapped her hand over her mouth, but history had an odd way of reminding her she was about to word purge and it would not go well.

Nothing like sparring toe to toe with the guard responsible for protecting her. What’s wrong with me ? But that’s exactly what she did. He riled her up and the district attorney in her fought to win the case. Maybe it wasn’t her profession, but something deeper. Dummy. After the insults were flung back and forth, she realized when he left the motel room he was peeved.

“I ought to her bend her over my knee.” He raised a hand only to place it back on his knee and smooth over his jeans.

Kinley jolted. Bend me over his knee? Did he just say that? I dare him. Did he never have anyone challenge him? Kinley took a few steps closer to the bodyguard they called Hawke. A tinge of guilt tickled her, but she appreciated him and the Noble Network Security for helping her. Kinley noticed the curtains sway with movement behind the window. She must tell him so, but this might be an opportune time. She closed the door behind her. The two guards scattered from the window where they had been watching their exchange. That went okay, but I have a feeling this will not be our first butting of the heads…or the last.

“How’d it go?” Jett asked as he paced back and forth.

“Surprisingly, better than I expected. He didn’t haul off and take a swing at me. I recognize I might have deserved it.” She snickered and raised a brow.

The pacing guard looked a little uneasy. “If I can make a tiny suggestion.”

The other guard laughed. “No pun intended.” Jett slapped Tiny on the back.

“He’s spun a little tight right now because we all almost lost someone on our team. If it wasn’t for Hawke, our brother wouldn’t be here. Give him some time and once you get to your destination, he may relax. He’s large and in charge and a respectable soldier. You just caught him off guard,” Tiny said as he weaved from side to side.

“Miss Lincoln, remember, we’re here to protect you. That’s our mission at Noble Network Security. We don’t know exactly who the threat is. The white Escalade has us all shifting our original synopsis.” The guard nodded and reached for his gun before he heard a series of taps on the door. “We’re all wrung tight, including you.” Jett winked.

Hawke peeked his head through the doorway. “We better head out. Appears you two get to stay in this lovely establishment. Can’t say I’m envious.” The corner of Hawke’s mouth quirked at the failed joke. His gaze shifted to her. “I got your bag from the vehicle. Is there anything else you need, Miss Lincoln?”

“That should be it.”

“Are you taking one of the dogs with you, Hawke?”

He leaned over the table and eyed the map, folding it up into the rest of the papers. “Nah, better not. There’s not enough wiggle room in the cab of the truck. We’ll meet up in a few days.” He knelt and ran a hand over the dog’s thick coat while the other rolled over onto its back for a tummy rub. He complied. “Take care of these boys for me, will ya?” The older, more trained dog cocked its head.

She studied his fingers as they moved through the thick fur. His grasp massaged the dog’s ears. His features softened when he leaned in at the muzzle of the dog and tapped its nose. She could feel the pulse tick in her neck. A wave of tingles fluttered in her belly as she witnessed his gentle side. Kinley squeezed her eyes tight to clear her thoughts, running her hands over her sweatpants, and followed Hawke outside. Her throat suddenly parched, she wet her lips. “Do you want me to drive?” she asked.

He winced. “I don’t think so,” he said as he marched forward, continuing his path to the driver’s side door of the truck. She shifted her cap and scurried to keep up the pace to the passenger side. He was lightning fast.

“Wait for me,” she huffed.

“Buckle up. I don’t have a slow roll and we have a lot of miles to cover. First stop is in three hours.”

She lifted her hand to salute and thought differently, so she waved the bodyguards goodbye and clicked her seatbelt. Nerves bubbled under the surface. Hawke turned the key and the engine roared. Each move was done with intent. He handed her the map. “You know how to read one of these?”

“Don’t you have a GPS?”

“In this thing? Not likely, and we manage by staying off the grid as much as possible.”

Kinley unfolded it and squinted to see it as the sun set behind one of the mountain peaks.

Hawke handed her a small high-powered flashlight. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. I’m not sure if it will help much.” She pressed the on button and almost blinded herself. This is not an everyday flashlight.

He leaned over and pointed at the road they were on. “We’re here, near Frisco.”

Kinley could feel his breath on her skin. She inhaled, but air caught in her lungs. Keep your wits about you. She focused on the map and prayed she could somehow miraculously read the teeny print. Kinley squinted, fixating on the map and the wavy roads, and did a trombone movement.

“Can you see okay? I can turn the dome light on.”

“I usually need glasses for reading documents and smaller print, but they got damaged in my apartment. I haven’t read much since.”

“Good to know.” He surveyed the map and leaned closer; his body heat made everything buzz. He had an earthy, commanding scent. Something stirred inside her. No, no, no, not today. Focus.

Hawke guided her finger to where they were on the map, bit the cap off the end of a pen, and trailed a path they were heading. “Jot this down. Anywhere so you can read it.” He handed her the pen. “Here, take the ink stick.”

She cocked her head. “Ink stick?” She laughed. Was that humor? Kinley didn’t dare, but she couldn’t resist—she turned and peered in his eyes. They were softer with honey-hued flecks.

“Remember this: Monarch pass Telluride. We’ll deal with the rest later. Right now, we’re driving to make sure no one is following us. We’re taking a roundabout way until the rest of the team gives us all clear . If we stop, it won’t be for long, only for rations or gas.”

Oh boy, road tripping was not her favorite thing. Kinley preferred flying to get there fast. Time off work was a rare commodity, and road trips had made her fall asleep ever since she was a child. Something about the purr of the motor and the humming of tires over pavement lulled her. “I’ll try to be a good copilot, but I wouldn’t hold out. I usually can’t keep my eyes open for long.”

“This is part of the gig; I’m counting on you to have my six. I need you to keep alert.”

“I’ll do my best, but just so you know, I’ve been a little sleep deprived the past few weeks.” She reached for the radio. “Maybe some tunes will help.”

Hawke grabbed for her wrist. “I hear it doesn’t work.”

“Super.” She crossed her arms over her chest. No music. The thought of endless miles with barely any conversation was going to make this thing drag out. “Guess we’ll have to talk.”

“I don’t do much of that,” he grumbled.

“Even better yet. Unless you want me to sing?”

He gave her a look like you better not , but she was so tempted. Kinley inspected the last of the light from the sun before tucking itself behind the Rockies.

Silence engulfed them for most of the trip, except when she felt the urge to belt out a song or two, making up the words as she went.

“I know you are trying to annoy me when you do that.” He gave her a side glance. His lips were in a tight line. “Get under my skin.”

“How do you know anything about me? You seriously need to lighten up. Why don’t you bust out a tune or two? It will make the trip go faster,” she said in a teasing tone.

“I read your file. Another thing—I don’t sing, and you should be thanking me for that.”

“So, you read a file about Kinley Lincoln.” She twirled her forefinger in the air. “Woo-hoo, now you’re an expert.”

“Didn’t say that. Said I read your file.”

She squinted and shook her head. “Can’t say I didn’t try to crack the code on what has your boxers in a knot.”

His brows knitted together, and he gave her another million-dollar assessment.

“You’re not all rainbows and sunshine. I never asked for any of this.” She crossed her arms over her chest, sunk back into her seat, and crossed her ankles on the dash.

“Didn’t say that either.” He tapped on the map. “I think we’re close to our turn.”

She put the map close to her face and squinted. “Three miles up, the map says we go west. Can we be any more west right now?”

Kinley stuck to asking questions because Hawke was not a conversationalist; this was going to test her skills.

He gave her a nod. “Good co-piloting.”

When he did give her direct eye contact, she could feel her cheeks warm.

Hawke studied his new companion. She was an entire 180 from the last mission with CJ. Kinley Lincoln grated at his nerves, and he suspected she loved the dig. His comfort zone was being tested. There was no way he wanted any of this head game.

Hawke parked the truck at the convenience store, turning off the engine. Watching patrons file into the store for their morning cup of jolt juice. The D.A. had fallen asleep. The woman talked in her sleep—not just talked, but an entire dissertation. Kinley Lincoln engaged in an animated, full-blown conversation with herself. He snickered when she started breaking out into a song not five minutes after she’d purred like a cougar. She had some pipes on her, but it bordered on hilarity.

She stirred. Hawke practically bit his bottom lip and turned away. Kinley stretched and yawned. He leaned his head back and lowered his wraparound sunglasses. He had to look at anything but her. Her hat had fallen off while she was doing her encore chorus, while her feet kicked up like a Rockette, almost taking the windshield out. Seriously, she looked like one of those little troll dolls, except she was Viking princess size, with the hair sticking up.

Hawke scanned the parking lot, gauging his surroundings. The truck stop was getting busier, so once he filled up the tank and they stopped to hit the head, they needed to be on the road again. He cleared his throat, but she didn’t stir. He waited and did it again—still nothing. She was lights out. This time he leaned closer and sneezed dramatically. She jumped and swung her fist in his direction, barely missing him with her right hook.

He dodged the assault. “Easy does it.”

She looked perplexed in his direction, and she had marks on her face from her hat and bag. Her hair was going every which way, but most of her blonde mane was straight up and hitting the roof of the truck. He chomped on his top lip.

“You have an interesting morning hairdo, counselor.”

She flung the visor down and looked into the mirror. “I’m a hot mess.” She gazed into his eyes, and he had to look away because she had such a serious expression. He put a fist up over his mouth and swung around to his left, looking at anything but her.

She tugged at his sleeve. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”

“Hard not to. It’s…how shall I say this?” He flattened his lips. “Extra. Extra.”

Kinley rummaged through her bag and quickly gave up. She raked through her hair, but her hand got caught up. She finally plucked the hair band from her wrist and grabbed a wad of her icy blonde hair. “Best thing to do in these situations is to call on the hair gods. If that doesn’t work, you shove a hat over it. See what happens when I don’t get a shower?”

“No time for a rain locker.”

“What the heck is that?”

“A shower.”

“Ink stick, rain locker? If this is your military lingo, you must teach me. I’m super fascinated.”

“Some things like a fart sack you can imagine without knowing what it actually means.”

Kinley nodded her head. “Maybe, on second thought, I don’t want to know.”

“I’m sure that when everyone bands together, you may hear way too much.”

She gazed over his shoulder at the gravel road and the sparse surroundings. There were cars lined up, waiting for their turn in gas.

“The Gas and Grub.” Hawke looked at his watch. “We better head in, get what we need, and hit the road.”

Kinley looked around. “Where are we anyway?” She searched for the map. “Where did the map go? I just had it here.”

“It’s crumpled underneath you. Sign said were outside of Glenwood Springs area, which means we are off our route by twenty miles, but it was dark and I didn’t want to disturb you. I rather liked the entertainment.”

“Why were you afraid to wake me? I couldn’t have been asleep long and…why did you like the entertainment? What in the world are you talking about?” She scratched her head.

Hawke shifted in his seat and turned toward Kinley. He leaned against his door and braced himself. “Number one, I tried to find the map but you almost socked me in the eye. Two, the roads are winding as hell and it was pitch black out. Three, it was hard enough to concentrate with all your theatrics.”

She smoothed a hand over her hair and bit at her thumbnail. “What do you mean, theatrics?”

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

She shook her head no. “Do not.”

He put an arm over the steering wheel. “It’s not exactly talking, it’s more like a grumbling bear on crack and it’s done in a courtroom.” He scratched his head and smirked. “It’s the oddest thing I’ve ever heard. Imagine any zoo animal on crack doing a dissertation.” He let out a laugh.

“Oh, aren’t you a funny guy. You’re exaggerating. I would think I’d know that, if I did what you’re saying.”

He held up his hand. “I swear. I’ve lived in the barracks in the military and bunked with my team for years. I’ve never heard someone do an opening and closing speech from beginning to end. Half the time, when people sleep, they say a few words here and there and it’s garbled. You, Miss Lincoln, were clear as a bell and, if I may say so, extremely convincing.” He readied his hands to deflect a hit from her. “Good thing the doors were locked, or you might have taken a stroll around. You did try.”

She eyed him. “No one has ever said anything to me about talking in my sleep.”

“I repeat, it wasn’t exactly talking. Remember when I said bear on drugs?”

“Whatever. You should have your own stand-up comedy routine. Go on tour.” She shifted her hat lower and frowned. “Are we going in or what?”

“I’d say you should go in alone, but since I’m hired to protect you, I’ll humble myself and give it a go.”

Kinley tugged on the handle to open the door.

Hawke grabbed her shoulder. “Hold your giddy-up-and-go. Wait for my cue.” He scanned everywhere and through the rearview mirror, only to glance over his shoulder again. “I’ll come around. Stay close. Just keep your head down. We’ll hit the head and get a few things for the road, but that’s it.”

Hawke threw a few things on the counter and noticed a countertop carousel of magnified reading glasses. “Hey, maybe these will help?”

Kinley grabbed a pair, looked at the strength, and put on some black glasses. “These should work. What do you think?”

“They look good in a librarian kind of way.” Hawke gave her another look. There was something about her brains and her studious look he favored. The hair was a different story, but it calmed down under her baseball hat. “Yeah, nice peepers,” he said and cleared his throat.

They were in and out in a few minutes, then back on the road. Kinley smoothed the map across the dash, then turned and raised a brow. “Thanks for the um… peeper assistance.” She shifted her glasses higher on her nose. “Now that I can see better, we can get back on track.”

“We shouldn’t be too far from our first stop, maybe two, three hours tops, if all goes well. We’ll lie low for the night and, in the morning, hit the road for the rest of our trip. I need to make some calls and check on the team.”

Kinley repositioned herself and glanced over to her protector. They hadn’t said more than a few words since they’d left the gas station. She tapped her forefinger on her lips. She observed the details of his neck tattoo a little clearer now with her readers. Areas were so intricate with depth and shadows—some designs were fragmented, as if they could leap off his skin. Some areas were dark and gritty, with muted blacks and grays on his corded neck. Others were more colorful, sporting army greens and the colors of the American flag.

Hawke gave her a side eye glance and lifted his jacket collar a little higher. He was less prickly than previously. She noticed him giving her another side-eye with a little more edge, but she didn’t turn away. Her gut instinct gave her the usual tickle. What’s he hiding? Why would someone hide his neck, yet have his neck covered in ink? When he pulled at his collar, she noticed there were more tattoos on his right arm. The tail was serpentine in nature. She wondered if it was all the way up on his arm. What made him get all tattoos, and what was his story?

He shifted uncomfortably and lifted his right arm higher on the steering wheel. Scars. Burns, maybe? Even though they hadn’t spent but a day together, she was good at reading people, and he wasn’t an easy read. He was distant, a nomad, but why would someone like him work so hard at keeping people safe from harm? Wouldn’t it be easier to go be a hermit somewhere? He obviously didn’t like being around her. She jolted when Hawke snapped his fingers to her face.

“Do I take the next right?”

Her thoughts vanished as soon as they appeared. “Sorry, I was just…” She shifted and ran her finger along the marked path on the map. Her internal temperature went up a notch. “Um.”

“Miss Legal Eagle. Where do I turn?” Hawke’s voice was a little louder and more direct. The truck slowed as he eased his foot off the gas.

“No, not this turn. The one right after. It’s a gravel road and not marked very well.”

“You need to focus on where we’re going and not eyeballing me. It’s distracting.”

“Mister, watch your tone. Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. I’m getting sick and tired of you taking your worldly problems out on me. You need a major attitude adjustment…or therapy.”

“Had therapy.” The crease between his brows deepened.

“Good for you, but you should go back and work on a few more of your failing people skills.” She scrunched down in her seat, facing forward and crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t ask for any of this and I’m scared. Turn here, your majesty.” She shifted and sat rod straight, whipped her shoulders back. “You cyclone in, spitting venom and shards of glass everywhere. The guards before you at least had a few manners and treated me with a little kindness. I’m not asking for special treatment, but if I’m stuck with you, I’ll rip my hair out.” She scrunched her nose and snarled her lip. “They seem to respect and speak highly of you. I’ll believe it when I see it. Before anything else, you need to be a nice human.”

He raised a brow. “Be sure to tell me how you really feel, Miss Lincoln.”

“Oh honey, I’m just getting started. I usually give everyone the benefit of the doubt. We are all fighting an uphill battle and most miserable people have had their share, but you are just flat out rude. I’m sorry for whatever made you this way, but I will not be your doormat.”

She glanced over as Hawke white knuckled the steering wheel. If he squeezed it any harder, it might disintegrate into dust. A growl rumbled deep in his chest.

“And since I’m in charge of being your copilot…go three miles ahead, take a left, go another seven miles. You’ll hit the little town of Onslow, cross a bridge, take a right, and our destination is there.” She inhaled deeply and continued. “If there’s a liquor store on the way—and I pray there is, for both our sakes—I’m down for that to take the edge off. If you need any further directions, here’s the map, Mr. Sunshine.” She shifted her hat and placed her palms on her cheeks, scrunching low in her seat.