Page 22 of Hawk

“Just make sure she knows she’s yours before someone else gets stupid.” His gaze turned sharp. “That profile coming together?”

I turned the laptop, showing him the digital corkboard of notes, connections, and highlighted anomalies. “Almost. Got three possibilities I want to push harder on.”

“Good.” Fox nodded as he stood and headed for the door.

He paused with his hand on the knob and looked back at me. “She’s good for you. Makes you less of a cold bastard. Keep her safe.”

“I will.”

He nodded again and left, the door shutting with a solid click.

There was a reason I’d pledged my loyalty to him as president of the Iron Rogues. He was a fierce protector of those he considered family. He was always calm, always watching. A good man to follow and a lethal one to cross.

I stared at the vest for a long minute after the door shut.

It would look damn good on her. And I was determined to see her wearing it soon…with nothing underneath but my marks.

Before I got edgy and started pacing like a caged animal, I folded the vest and stowed it in the desk drawer.

Just in time because the door opened again. Tentatively, this time. And there she was.

My Gemma.

She stepped inside, cheeks flushed from the spring air. She wore a pale blue sundress that brushed her thighs and hugged her curves. A sweater was tied around her waist, her camera bag slung over one shoulder. Her hair was down, the soft waves brushing her chest, and my body heated with desire.

She looked like sin dressed in innocence.

I stood without thinking, my body moving toward her out of instinct.

“Hey,” she said, her voice warm and sweet.

“Hey, baby.” I reached out and took her hand, tugging her into the room. “Come here.”

She melted into me instantly, arms wrapping around my neck as I walked her back to my chair and sat, pulling her down onto my lap. Her weight settled over my thighs, and I buried my face in her hair.

“You smell like sunshine.”

She laughed softly. “That might just be baby powder. Elise had like ten different products in that diaper bag.”

I chuckled against her neck, but the moment I heard her breath hitch, I pulled back. I saw it—the flicker of pain. The way her eyes snagged on my laptop screen.

The profile of Ellen was still open with a photo of her in the right corner. It was a cropped picture from the shoot, her smile bright and unaware.

Gemma went rigid.

Then a sob broke loose.

“I should’ve known or seen something. Maybe if I’d asked more questions or warned her to be careful or—” Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her face, her voice cracking. “She was sweet. I really liked her. Now she’s just… gone. And I did nothing.”

“Stop.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close, burying her against my chest. Her fingers fisted in my shirt, and the raw grief shaking her made my heart ache in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

“Don’t do that, baby. This isn’t on you,” I murmured against her hair. “So don’t you dare blame yourself. You didn’t fail her. You were kind. You were good to her. That’s more than most people ever give.”

“But she trusted me.”

“And you didn’t betray that. The only person responsible is the sick fuck who took her. And they will fucking pay. I swear that on my life.”

---