Page 83 of Borden 3

Hawke exhaled slowly. “I couldn’t find anything on him.”

“That’s not good enough,” Borden retorted, fisting his hands now. “I want to know why you fucking omitted him. Even if all you had was a fucking name. I want to understand this, Hawke.”

Hawke nodded slowly. “It wasn’t to protect the kid.”

“No?”

“It was to protect Emma.”

Borden fumed, feeling his head throb. “Hawke.”

“Sometimes a judgement call is made—”

“Tell me what you fucking know.” Borden didn’t yell this, but his voice was so cold, so unfeeling, the room dropped in temperature. The tension was thick. Tyler was gripping Hawke tightly, her eyes flicking to the door. It was locked. She could unlock it and leave, but without the okay from Borden and Hawke, Jesse and Gerry were going to bite the dust.

This needed to end in peace.

Borden was not fucking about.

Hawke understood this, and he nodded again. “Let me explain.”

Borden leaned forward, growling, “Explain.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hawke

The Past: When shitfuck was calmer

It was a normal day.

Maybe even a good day.

Hawke was living an ordinary life. As ordinary as an occasional hitman could live.

Sitting in a cosy, family diner, he was in the middle of having a milkshake when the dummy phone buzzed on the table. Graeme, sitting across from him and enjoying his own milkshake, chuckled, whispering, “Have fun, Hawke.”

Hawke glared at the fuck. Borden had been in a mood lately. Nobody had fun answering his fucking calls and getting barked at.

“Yeah?” Hawke answered, avoiding Graeme’s amused eye.

“Hawke,” Borden growled straightaway, “I’ve got an errand for you. Emma Warne. I want to know every fucking thing about her. Where she went to school, who she’s friends with, who she’s fucking — hell, everyone she’s ever fucked before. Everything.”

Borden hung up before Hawke could respond.

Graeme giggled at Hawke’s what the fuck face. “Who’s your next target?”

Hawke pocketed the phone. “A girl.”

“He wants to off a girl?”

“No.”

Now Graeme was intrigued. “No killing?”

Hawke frowned. “Not yet.”

When it was clear he wasn’t going to have his milkshake, Graeme grabbed it and slid it across the table to him. “Good luck.”

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