Page 28 of Isaac

Hawk spins in place to face me, and we're locked in an unspoken conflict, a battle of intense gazes.

I keep expecting him to break the silence but he doesn't; instead, his gaze slides down toward my hand—the one clutching the Glock by my side.

I march over to him, every stride sure and loud, bloody shoes clacking against concrete floors.

Suddenly, our faces are mere inches apart and it feels like we’re sharing the same air, breathing in each other’s warmth, hazardous and intimate all at once.

I use my free hand to nudge him back against the sink, then place both hands on the marble surface on either side of him, trapping him entirely. Jeremy’s Glock still in my grasp, clattering softly over the counter.

"Who are you?" I ask quietly with the obvious threat in my voice.

"Cody…Smith."

I lift up my hand holding the Glock and press the barrel into his chest, right above the ink. The sight of steel on flesh makes my insides roar.

I get high on power. It intoxicates me like no other high. And seeing Hawk at my mercy is pure bliss.

"Why did you offer to help?"

"A man was going to bleed to death."

Apprehension crawls up inside of me and holds me tight. I suck in a deep breath through my nose and drag the barrel of the Glock down his pec and over his rib cage.

He doesn’t flinch.

"I’m going ask you again," I grit out. "Who in the hell are you and why are you here?"

Hawk keeps on staring at me. His eyes are icy-blue and clear, a stark contrast to his bronzed skin and his midnight-black hair. "I work for you," he whispers.

"Hmm." I match his glare that’s making me feel exposed in a way I haven't felt in years. There's something about this man that sets me on edge, a primal instinct warning me not to let my guard down. "You work at the club. There’s a difference."

"I’m open to other opportunities," he supplies promptly.

"What kind of opportunities?"

"Opportunities to make decent money." He pauses. "Pension doesn’t pay the bills, you know."

"Right." I shove the gun into his gut, and finally, he loses his composure and shudders. Glock still pressed into his abdomen, I bring my face closer to his and whisper, "I don’t hire people I don’t trust."

"I think I’ve proven my worth."

We continue to stand there, eyes locked in a warfare of wills.

My dumb heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and something I can't quite put my finger on. And I don’t fucking like it.

It’s been a long time since someone rattled me this much. And Cody fucking Smith is a trip. An enigma.

And I fucking hate unsolved mysteries.

I yank the gun away from his body and take a step back.

He remains motionless, lower back pressed up to the sink counter, dress pants covered by splotches of dried blood, firm chest rising and falling with each breath.

"I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you," comes my final warning as I rip my gaze away from him.

The inexplicable, simmering tension between us remains unresolved as I leave the bathroom.

CHAPTER 10

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