Page 14 of Isaac

"He manages the club for his family."

"Is it like some sort of monthly training or what?"

"Nah, just a regular team hang."

"Alright," I agree, tucking away this information. Weird. But whatever. "I'll be there."

"You better."

Another opportunity comes later. My shift is about to end and the night is slowly winding down. I'm on my last break by the bar to grab a bottle of water and I purposely position myself on the side a tiny redhead is handling.

Jessica Ramirez.

Jeremy's younger sister.

Both were in foster care, bouncing from house to house.

Her record is clean and I have this gut feeling, though she works at the club, she's not tangled up in Isaac's dealings, but any information is better than no information. Besides, I gotta give my superiors something. And soon. If I have to use some of my charm, then I will.

"Hey, Hawk!" she calls out, handing me the water. "How's the job treating you?"

"Can't complain," I reply with a smile, leaning against the counter and twisting the cap open. "You know how it is."

"Of course," she purrs, flashing me a teasing grin. "But I bet it's more fun than your last gig, huh?"

"Definitely."

"Aren’t you from Phoenix?"

Dallas Bradley was born and raised in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Northern Cali and joining the Marines was his only way out of that shithole of a town. But Hawk... His roots are stretched under Arizona's scorching skies. And right now I'm him—a disgruntled vet, feeling discarded like day-old news after leaving service. And looking to make real money. And Jeremy's sister, with her sparkling green eyes and flirty demeanor, is an easy target.

"I am," I tell her before taking a sip from the water bottle.

Her gaze locks on mine. "I hope you're planning to stick around."

"I hope so too." I take another swig and tap the counter with my palm. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to work."

"Don't be a stranger, Arizona, okay?" She gives me a playful wink, her ruby-red lips curling into a cheeky smirk.

I step away from the bar, not wanting to draw too much attention to our interaction. If her brother sees us, he may not like it. I know. I have a sister too. We don’t talk much these days but the need to protect is always there.

For now, I choose to tread carefully. I choose to be what a guy like Hawk would be.

Simple.

Not overly chatty.

Polite.

Disciplined.

Lonely.

Eating takeout after work in his poorly furnished one-bedroom apartment somewhere on the ninth floor of the building with a decent view of the Strip. Hawk isn’t renting this crappy place because he can see the slick curves of Aria or the miniature Eiffel Tower of Paris. He wants to be close to where money is, he wants a reminder of what he could have in the form of opulence that are those massive hotels and casinos.

The place itself isn’t much. Tiny, with shitty plumbing, and perpetually no kitchen. But for a guy like Hawk, who’s been ignored and forgotten, it's enough. He can’t afford to spend more. He can’t afford something that America promises to every American. Even though he’s paid his dues.

Yes, that’s what Cody Smith would be pissed about.

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