Hawk - James Patterson Page 0,82

by yourself. For ten years. That’s incredible. Not only that, but you are, without a doubt, the kid of two of my favorite people. You’ve inherited the best, and maybe the worst, parts of both Max and Fang. I would want you around forever just to watch that play out.”

I looked down, embarrassed.

“We can talk more about this later,” Angel’s voice said. “Right now, we’ve got work to do. We’re here. Got your bulletproof vest on?”

“No! I don’t even have one!” I burst out, and five heads turned to look at me in surprise.

Angel’s eyes laughed at me. “Lol,” she said.

CHAPTER 81

The meeting was in a building I’d never landed on. It was a super-fancy restaurant that I’d only walked by like twice. Up in this part of the city they didn’t like strangers, and I would have stuck out like a… dirty street punk.

We landed in the alley behind the restaurant. This felt more homey—it was all concrete and bricks, dirty, smelly, with three trash dumpsters lined up. I knew that at the end of the alley, I could turn right, then left, and about twenty meters down was a manhole that would drop me into a tunnel that would connect up with other tunnels that would eventually lead to the Children’s Home. It took a lot of willpower to not paw through the dumpsters, see if there was any good food in there. You wouldn’t believe what some places threw out.

“Okay,” Nudge said briskly, “I’ve had confirmation that at least two representatives from each of the six families will be here. So everyone keep alert, and if this goes south, get out and meet up outside the city.”

“Oh, this is definitely going to go south!” Gazzy said cheerfully, patting his pockets.

Angel stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Brother, we spoke about this. We’re here to reach a peace agreement.”

“Sister,” Gazzy said in a singsong voice, “I know that. But I’m always prepared. Just in case.”

Angel gave him a narrow-eyed look, then turned and opened the back door, which led to the restaurant’s kitchen. Several cooks and waiters nodded at Angel as if they knew her. Maybe they did. If Angel told me she knew everyone in the entire city, I’d believe her.

A guy in a waiter suit said, “They’re in the private room upstairs.”

Angel nodded and led us to the most amazing staircase I’d ever seen—fancier even than the one I’d caught a glimpse of at Pietro’s house. Pietro. Would he be here tonight? I hadn’t seen him since he’d patched me up… oh, sun, that had been only four days ago? Five days? Impossible.

Restaurant sounds of plates clinking and polite people talking followed us up the carved wooden stairs covered with blood-red carpet so thick, even Clete could sneak down them.

The meeting was in a big room that had glass all around it. Anyone could see what was happening in it. That was smart. Angel pulled open the door and we all filed in. Everyone here was well dressed, and clean. They looked smart. They looked capable. They looked… nothing like me.

Oh, man, I was in way over my head. I stared at my feet. Why had Angel wanted me to come? I didn’t know anything about this kind of situation.

“Staaaaaahhhhp,” Angel’s voice said. I didn’t even look up—she was talking only to me, inside my head. “You’re here to learn.”

Oh. That made sense.

“My name is Angel,” she said out loud. “Thank you for coming. Can everyone introduce themselves?”

“Kieran McLeod,” a big man with red hair said. “This is my brother, Mike.”

Angel nodded.

“My name is Mark Chung.” He was older, with straight gray hair and four earrings in his right ear. In the Chung territory, you pierced your ear for every person you killed yourself. They must have thought I was a goddamn maniac because my ears were all pierced, my nose was pierced, my eyebrow…

“I’m Koi Chung,” said the woman next to him. She was pretty, but one cheek had a slight dent in it as if it’d been knocked in and not set right.

Next were the Harrises, Shiv and Chris. Shiv looked just like her name, like she’d been made out of something else, in prison. Chris looked nervous, twisting the tablecloth in one hand.

“I’m Kim Stolk,” said the next woman, who looked as if her face would crack if she smiled. “This is my son, Trevor.” Trevor was maybe twenty, brown eyes, tightly curled blue hair, and had a “Gonna kill Mom