Page 32 of Justice

Hawk raises his eyes in her direction, a knowing smile splitting his face.

“Good girl. Now get dressed, I have something to show you.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

Tobias helpedJustice collect her meager belongings, able to tuck everything into the oversized bag slung over her shoulder. He was no stranger to girls with sad stories. Working for O’Leary, and subsequently Drake, he assumed he’d heard it all, he was wrong.

As fucked up as his life could be at times, he never questioned the love his parents had for him, even Francine had an open invitation for dinner any time he wanted it. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for her to have a man who was supposed to protect her, toss her away as if she were nothing.

Pulling up to the side of his hotel, he secured the bike among the trees against the back fence. He took the bag from Justice, holding her hand as he led her around the front to his room.

“What are we doing here?” Justice whispered, looking over her shoulder to the parking lot full of cars. She was a beautiful girl, with street smarts as well as intelligence.

“You deserve better than an old shack with no running water or electricity.”

Justice pulls at his arm, eyes wide and shaking her head, “I can’t stay here.”

Flipping the light switch on the wall, he pulls her in, allowing the door to shut with a hollow thud behind them. “Why not? You trying out an Amish lifestyle?”

Tossing his keys on the table and grabbing the remote from the center of the bed, he pointed it at the television, turning on the local news.

“Hotels want identification and credit cards. They also have security cameras, all of which—”

“You avoid,” he interrupted. Motioning for her to come closer, he sits on the end of the bed, pulling his laptop from the side table and opens the lid. “Let me show you something.”

Justice sits, leaving a few inches between them. He doesn’t blame her for being cautious, especially after he held a knife to her throat.

“We’ve both been to prison, so I know you have a fake ID tucked away somewhere on you.”

“Wait, you’ve been to prison?” She asks incredulously, her eyes wide as she turns her body toward him.

“Eighteen months,” he admits, keeping his eyes on the computer screen, continuing to pull up the security footage from the hotel.

“Why?”

His eyes flash to hers as her hand comes up to cover her mouth.

“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“Armed robbery,” he offers as he spins the computer to face her. “Credit cards are easy to get around, especially when you look as good as you do. As far as the security cameras, there are a dozen apps out there to help you tap in and delete the recording.” Reaching around the screen, he presses two keys, allowing her to watch the footage of them entering the building disappears.

Shutting the lid, he pushes the computer to the center of the bed, and then reaches over to take her hand in his. “Justice, you’ve been handed a shit sandwich, lied to by a man you should have been able to trust. And while I’m far from a fucking saint, I’m not going to be another shitty man in your life.” Reaching back, he pulls his wallet from his back pocket, and removes a key from the leather folds. Standing to his full height, he crosses the room to the closet. Unlocking the safe, he pulls out several items before returning to his seat at the end of the bed.

“My name isn’t Hawk, it’s Tobias Marks.” He hands her his Massachusetts driver’s license. “I work for a man who hired your stepfather to do some work. When he failed to deliver, he sent me here to get his property.”

She stares at his ID, flipping it over and then handing it back. “Well, you had me fooled.” Tucking her feet under herself, running her hands up and down her arms as she physically shivers. “I’ve been around bikers since I was ten years old, and you handled the Harley out there better than most.”

Tobias stands from the bed, reaches into his suitcase for a long-sleeved shirt. “Here, there are clean towels in the bathroom. Go grab a hot shower and we’ll talk more when you’re warmed up.”

Justice doesn’t argue, taking the shirt from him and closing the bathroom door behind her. Looking at his watch, he notices he had less than fifteen minutes before he is scheduled to meet with Marino. Pulling out his phone, he sends off a text.

‘Running late, be there as soon as I can.’

Marino responds almost immediately.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘No, players in the game have changed.’

---