Stalking the Firedawg

by Keely Jakes

  Hawk nodded, slipping the card into his pants pocket as he was loaded into the ambulance and taken away from the man he already knew would be his future.

  Chapter Two

  “Runaround Stew’s, how may I make your life easier today?”

  Stewart answered the phone automatically as he walked out of class when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Checking the caller ID, he did not recognize the number, but did not think Fred would go so far as to get a new phone with a Tennessee area code just to talk to him. The man was stupid as a stump, but was also a cheap sonofabitch.

  It had been three days since the incident with Piewhackit and the hot, sexy firedawg named Hawk. When Mrs. Randall had called that evening, having heard about the excitement from the neighbors, she had been more worried about the injured firefighter than Pie’s escape. She had assured Stewart that of course he still had a job. This was not the first time the cat had gotten out, and she doubted it would be the last.

  After that, the woman had willingly shared everything she knew about the man called Hawk. The few questions Stew had asked that she had not had answers for, she made note of and called back the next day with answers. Stew was not sure, but was feeling more than a little stalkerish with the amount of information he now knew about the man who flipped every sexy switch he had.

  “You can go to the New Bern Cook-Out restaurant, buy two chicken club sandwiches with everything except onion, a large order of fries, and a chocolate shake. Then you can bring them to room four-three-seven at the hospital on Neuse Boulevard,” a deep, dark voice said. “Please.”

  Just listening to the deep, melodic voice sent a shiver through Stew, ending in his quickly plumping cock. He sucked a breath and tried to calm naughty mind and body. After all, he wanted Hawk, the firefighter, not some sexy anonymous voice on the phone.

  “And you are?” Stewart asked as he pulled out his class notebook and flipped to the back page. He would fill out the official errand form he had made up for the business later.

  “Justice Hawkins, Staff Sergeant, United States Marine Corps. My friends call me Hawk.” Stewart heard a smile in the man’s tone, though his words also had a fuzzy softness to them as well. “You told me the other day I could call if I needed anything. Right now, I need food that does not come on a tray from the hospital cafeteria.”

  Justice Hawkins. Hawk. The hot, sexy man who had dominated Stew’s dreams and most of his waking thoughts for the last five days.

  “Yes, I did,” Stewart replied with a grin. “And you want two chicken clubs, a large order of fries, and a chocolate milkshake. Is that everything?” Though working to remain professional, Stewart heard the innuendo in his question. Thank goodness the man could not see him through the phone because his cheeks were burning with his embarrassment.

  “We can discuss what else I need once you get here.”

  Stewart coughed to cover up the giggles that bubbled up at the man’s pass. “Umm, all right. My class ends in a few minutes, but I have an errand in Havelock to finish up, so it might take me an hour to get there.”

  “That’s fine. If I’m sleeping, wake me up. Gotta go. Vampira is back.”

  The connection cut before Stewart could reply. Hanging up, he finished making notes of the conversation before heading back into class.

  ****

  Hawk awkwardly ripped another small piece from the pad of paper he had begged one of the nurses into buying for him. Balling it up, he popped it into his mouth and wet it before fitting the wet ball onto the end of the straw he had wedged between two swollen fingers of his left hand.

  Everything took three times longer because his left hand was out of commission. The mud brown cast started halfway down his fingers and went nearly to his shoulder in order to keep everything from moving in order for his broken wrist to heal properly. His lower right leg had a cast from his toes to above his knee to keep his ankle and all his leg muscles still.

  Damned cat.

  Fitting the straw between his lips, Hawk aimed at the picture of the pain scale across the room. Five days of staring at the baby blue walls had given him a good feel for how prison inmates were treated. He could not even wander the halls because he could not work crutches with his broken wrist. Hell, he could not even drive a wheelchair, not that he could get himself into one. Until he could come up with an alternative place to heal, he was stuck in this damn bed.

  He could not go home because military dormitories did not have elevators, and he could not reach his room on the third floor without one. The rehabilitation center’s inpatient beds were full, and there was nowhere else for him to go that would not cost more in a week than he earned in a month. At least the Marines Corps was picking up the tab for the hospital since it had been a line of duty injury. But three days with no visitors and nothing to take his mind off his dilemma was sending him circling a dark pit of depression.

  Taking a deep breath through his nose, Hawk adjusted his aim and blew hard. He frowned when the wet paper wad hit the wall two inches below the sign. It joined a dozen others on the wall, but so far it was the closest to the greenish-blue number five face he was using as a target. His aim was getting better.

  As he started the process again, the white privacy curtain Nurse Trish had pulled so they could keep his door open without everyone staring in as they passed at the fool who had been brought down by a fuzzball cat, twitched. It twitched again before half a head peeked around the edge. A bright green eye under a fall of curly white-blond hair caught his attention.

  “Runaround Stew’s delivery service,” the man said, looking a little nervous as he fully stepped past the curtain into the room.

  Hawk readjusted his aim before shooting this spitball. It hit the number five’s chin and stuck. Dropping the straw to the rolling table, Hawk smiled at his visitor. “Nailed it. Come on in and save me from getting another papercut on my tongue.”

  The man stepped around the curtain, and Hawk could see he carried a bag of food in one hand, a large drink in the other. The strap of a bright red messenger’s bag crossed his body.

  “You called for food?”

  “Oh, God, yes,” Hawk said, though it sounded more like a moan. “Right here.”

  One swipe of his good arm sent everything on the table flying. He winced as the heavy paperback the night nurse had lent him dropped onto his good thigh. While he had no trouble imagining the sex scenes in the book, his imagination transformed the dark-haired woman into a pretty blond man while he filled the part of the rich billionaire.

  Hawk patted the now-empty rolling tabletop as his stomach gave a loud, rumbling growl as the scent of grilled chicken and greasy potatoes filled the room.

  After the man set the bag on the table, Hawk fumbled to open it one-handed. Once he succeeded, he then struggled to pull the contents out and pile them on top of the paper bag. Grabbing three fries, he shoved them into his mouth to give his stomach something to work on while he figured out how the hell he was going to hold the thick sandwich in one hand without losing everything that was stuck piled inside the bun.

  “Need some help?”

  Hunger driving him, Hawk tried to look pitiful as he nodded. “Please. Having my left hand out of commission is a bigger challenge than I thought it would be.”

  ****

  “You’re left-handed?”

  Stewart reached down and pinched his thigh to keep from laughing at the pitiful look the big, tough military firefighter was giving his food. While it should not be amusing, he was having a hard time not laughing. At the same time, Stewart’s caretaker heart was touched.

  He wanted to help this hot, sexy man in any way he could. If that assistance led to hot, hot, hot sex and a future relationship, all the better.

  Hawk raised the casted arm as he nodded. “Yep. Which means everything is five times harder than if it had been my right.”

  Stewart stepped closer, noting that the tall, dark, and yummy Marine needed more than just his sandwich unwrapped. His beard was gro
wing in as well. Unwrapping the sandwich, Stewart frowned. Even with his big hands, Hawk would not be able to hold the sandwich without half of it ending up in his lap.

  Reaching into the side pocket of his messenger bag, Stewart pulled out the pocket knife he kept there. It was neither a big knife, nor a sharp one, but it should be enough to cut a sandwich in half without any trouble. Once he cut both sandwiches in half, he used one of the plethora of napkins that had come with the bag to wipe the blade clean before closing it and returning it to its place in his bag.

  Wrapping half of the first sandwich in the tinfoil wrapper it had come in, he offered it to Hawk. “Try that.”

  With a grateful smile, Hawk accepted it and took a big bite. He chewed and swallowed before asking, “What is your name?”

  Stewart turned his attention to gathering the things Hawk had pushed onto the bed and floor. He piled them neatly on the corner of the table before answering. “Stewart Lytle.”

  Even as he said it, he wondered which joke Hawk would use about his name. He had heard them all, but there was not much he could do about it. It was, after all, his name.

  Hawk did not speak until he finished eating the first half the sandwich. It only took two more bites. “Like the mouse?”

  Stewart nodded. “Only spelled different. My mother loved that book.”

  “Uh-huh. He was a pretty cool mouse,” Hawk said as he reached for his milkshake.

  Stewart shrugged. “I guess.”

  “So, what do people call you?”

  “Stewart. My best friends, Hudson and Bingham, call me Stew, or Stewie if we’ve been drinking. They were the ones who named my business,” Stewart said as he wrapped and handed Hawk the next half sandwich.

  It disappeared nearly as fast as the first. Hawk slowed down after the third half and seemed to finally taste and savor the final half. While the man worked on his fries and shake, Stewart cleaned up as much of the lunch trash as he could. Depositing it in the bathroom trashcan, he settled into the hard-backed chair in the corner of the room. Reminding himself he was here on business, he pulled the business clipboard and pen from his messenger bag. “So, what else can I do for you, Sergeant Hawkins?”

  Hawk’s dark chuckle sent a shiver through him. It was too sexy for Stewart not to respond to, even as Stewart reminded himself, yet again, the man was injured. Besides, he was a Marine, and not interested in a twink who was struggling to pay his bills while he finished up his schooling.

  “Call me Hawk.” The man shifted in the bed as if trying to get comfortable.

  “All right. What else can I do for you, Hawk?”

  Stewart mentally did a fist pump. The sexy hottie wanted him to use his nickname. That was a plus, wasn’t it? Stewart kept his face turned down to his notebook so Hawk would not see he was biting his bottom lip to keep from grinning like a crazy fool.

  Instead of dictating a list of errands he needed run, or even questioning him about his rates, Hawk remained silent. Not sure what was going on with the man, Stewart lifted his head. “Hawk?”

  Hawk shifted again before moaning a curse as he pulled the rolling table closer.

  “What’s wrong? Do you need a nurse?”

  “No, don’t call a nurse,” Hawk ordered in a tense, sharp tone. “What I need they can’t do for me, not that they would anyway.”

  Stewart frowned in confusion. “But if you’re in pain…”

  “It’s not that kind of pain, mouse.” Hawk’s bronzed cheeks reddened in what Stewart thought might be embarrassment.

  “Mouse?” The nickname completely sidetracked Stewart’s thoughts.

  Hawk shrugged. “It fits, but if you don’t like it, I won’t use it.”

  Now it was Stewart’s turn to lift his shoulders. “It’s okay. Definitely better than some names people have called me.”

  “You already have a nickname?”

  Stewart dropped his gaze to his lap. Did he really want this big, tough, beautiful, military man to know all his secrets? His heart shouted “Yes!” with such positivity that Stewart could not stop himself from grinning.

  Raising his gaze again, he looked into Hawk’s sky-blue eyes. “In school, they called me Wart.”

  “Wart?”

  Stewart nodded. “Or Stewpot, but Wart was the worst. I did not mind so much after I saw a cartoon movie where Merlin called a young King Arthur Wart.”

  “Still, that wasn’t very nice of them.”

  Stewart shrugged again. “Kids can be cruel. Now, please tell me what you need. I’m here to help.”

  If possible, Hawk’s cheeks grew even redder. “I need to get off, but with my left hand out of commission, I’m shit out of luck. And with you sitting there looking all cute and sexy, all the pain meds in the building won’t dull the pain in my cock.”

  Stewart sat back in his chair, utterly shocked by Hawk’s whispered confession. At the same time, his own cock leaped to attention and began to throb at the implication of the man’s words.

  But he had to be sure.

  “You’re hard and hurting because of me?” he asked, wincing when his voice squeaked on the last word. “But you don’t even know me.”

  Hawk began to smile as he nodded. “I know more than you think. Mrs. Randall came to visit me yesterday.”

  “Oh, no. I’m afraid to ask what she said.”

  “She’s concerned that you’re so busy doing things for everyone else that you don’t take care of yourself. She thinks you need a good man in your life. Then, after asking me flat out in which direction my sexual interests lay, she declared we would make the perfect couple.”

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. Just after I started working for her, she found out my parents had kicked me to the curb the night of my high school graduation. If it had not been for her, and my grandfather, Herbie and I would probably be living under a bridge somewhere.”

  “Who’s Herbie?” Hawk frowned at the mention of another man’s name. “You’re not involved with someone already, are you?”

  “No, I’m not involved with anyone. Herbie’s my hedgehog.”

  “A hedgehog? I’ve never met one of those before. And I’m very glad you’re not involved with anyone.”

  Stewart smiled, not sure how to respond to that. So, he looked around the room and then back to the man in the bed. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you still here in the hospital? Did you have complications or something?”

  Chapter Three

  Hawk chuffed a sad laugh. “No, there were no complications physically. My dorm room on base is on the third floor of a building that has no elevator. And, until my wrist heals, I can’t use crutches or a regular wheelchair to get around.”

  Stewart frowned as he looked around the room again. “Do you have to stay here? This place is depressing.”

  Hawk totally agreed with that assessment. “I don’t have to stay, but I have nowhere else to go. The rehab center inpatient beds are full, the Corps is refusing to pay for me to stay in a nursing home, and I can’t afford a hotel room with a private nurse and room service. I’ve only been on base for a few days and don’t know anyone who would take me in.”

  Stewart stared out the window for another long moment. Hawk did not want his pity. He wanted the man. Too bad he was in no position to pounce on the mouse and see if they were as perfect a match as his body was telling him they would be.

  “Kiss me,” Hawk said, hoping his demand would put them on the fast track to building a relationship, preferably one that was hot and sexy.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Kiss me, please?”

  Hawk knew he was pushing, but he had never been known for his subtlety. As a firedawg, he charged into danger when others ran away. He was bold and brash and dominating, and at this moment, he wanted the pretty little blond to know he was interested.

  Very interested.

  While he would prefer to pull the man into bed and fuck him until neither of them could move, for now he had to settle for a kiss. At least until he h
ad use of his impaired body parts.

  Then all bets were off.

  Since he was immobile and Stewart was not, whether they kissed or not was up to the other man. All Hawk could do was pray the man felt the attraction he did.

  Stewart continued staring out the window. It was as if he were weighing the pros and cons of doing as Hawk asked. Then he blinked and looked at him.

  The corners of Stewart’s lips twitched. In the next seconds, a smile spread not just over his lips, but throughout his entire being. Hawk watched, stunned by how beautiful the smile made him. He held his breath as Stewart stood and crossed to stand at the side of the bed. Hawk stopped breathing as the man leaned closer.

  “Breathe,” Stewart whispered when their lips were just an inch apart.

  Hawk sucked in a breath through his nose. Releasing it slowly, he forced himself to pull in another one. Then he lifted his head and closed the last inch that separated him from the man who had filled his drug-induced dreams for the past few days and nights.

  Soon the gentle brush of lips on lips was not enough. Hawk tilted his head a little further to the right as he pressed closer. His right hand slid around the back of Stewart’s neck to hold the man in place. Hawk kept his touch light so that if he truly did not want this, Stewart could pull away. But the little man did not move anywhere. The attraction Hawk had felt from his first sighting of the pretty errand-runner morphed into an absolute certainty that they were meant to be together.

  Before he could pull the man into bed with him, Stewart broke the kiss. He straightened until he was just out of Hawk’s reach.

  “Wow,” he breathed.

  Not sure what else could be added to that assessment, Hawk nodded. His gaze dropped down the man’s body to the front of Stewart’s tight-fitting jeans. There was a nearly obscene bulge pushing at the zipper. The man was packing some serious heat, and Hawk could not wait to get him naked. Only the click-clack of shoes approaching at a rapid pace kept him from demanding more.