Laughing, close, happy.
“You’re in deep with me, aren’t you, baby?”
“Drowning.”
Oh God.
I closed my eyes and I saw the image in the Polaroid burned on my brain.
That was what Hawk saw for eight years. I knew it then. I got it. He saw that picture he carried in his wallet burned on his brain, every time he closed his eyes, every time his guard went down, every time his control slipped. That was why he shut everything out. That was why his world was void. So he’d never lose control and see that image on his brain, the last memory, the last happiness he thought he’d ever have.
I opened my eyes and hit reply.
Then I typed in, Deal and hit send.
* * * * *
Tack was walking out one of the three big bays in the garage behind the back of Ride. He’d seen my car coming.
A miracle had happened since Hawk and I became us again, Tack and I stayed us too. Of course, this didn’t include me sleeping in his bed or letting him touch his tongue to mine but I texted him whenever I thought there was something he needed to know, mostly all things smartass, and Tack texted back, mostly all things biker guy smartass reply to cosmo girl smartass comment.
And also, Tracy and I went to a Chaos party that was a freaking hoot, so much fun, and most of the time we spent with Tack and his biker babe drinking tequila shots and eating fantastic barbeque pork sandwiches.
Hawk was okay with this because he knew I was in deep with him but mostly because he took us there and picked us up. He was also okay with this because Suarez sat in a black SUV across the street from Ride, his eyes to binoculars out his window trained on the big hog roast party which was taking place in the huge cement area behind Ride.
I got out of my car and slammed the door as Tack smiled at me.
“Peaches,” he called his greeting.
I ran to him and when I closed the distance and he got a good look at my face, his smile died.
“Talk to me, Gwen,” he ordered.
“They have Hawk, they want Ginger,” I told him.
His body went tight.
“Who?” he asked on a bark.
I pulled my purse off my shoulder and dug into it, shaking my head and saying, “I don’t know.” I pulled out my phone, found the picture text, opened it and turned it to face Tack.
His eyes dropped to my phone and a muscle worked in his cheek.
“Roarke,” he clipped.
I closed my eyes.
“Dog!” Tack barked and my eyes flew open to see his neck twisted and he was looking over his shoulder at the bays.
“Tack,” I whispered, my hand came up and I curled my fingers in his tee so his head twisted back to me. “I know that you and Hawk… you and me… I know… I…” I shook my head again. “I have to get him back.”
“What’d I say to you?” His gravelly voice rumbled deep.
I blinked. “What?”
“What’d I say to you, Gwen?”
“I… I don’t know,” I whispered.