Stone Sober: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 3)

by Gwyn McNamee

  He wraps his arm around her and kisses the top of her head. “Don’t worry, Mom. I took the bar in February.”

  She jerks away from him. “What? I don’t even remember you being here in February.”

  “I know, I didn’t tell anyone, other than Dom, that I was doing it. I’m going to set up my own firm. Dom is already sending some business my way.”

  A growl sounds from my left. I look over at Savage, and his fists clench on top of the table. “You’re going to work for Dom?”

  Stone’s eyes harden, and his lips press into a firm line. “Look, I know you’ve always thought you were too good for Dom, even after he helped you after college, but I don’t want to hear a word from you about this.”

  Yikes.

  The tension in the room as the brothers stare each other down is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Storm breaks it by rising and raising her glass in the air. “Well, I think this news calls for a toast. To having baby brother back in the fold.”

  Mrs. Hawke returns to her seat and grabs her glass. Everyone has a smile on their face, although at least half of them are clearly fake.

  What the deuce is up with this family?

  I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with them on a regular basis, outside of work. My own family is enough to handle; I don’t need their family drama piled on.

  I raise my glass, intending to down the rest of my wine, but then everyone begins leaning forward to clink their glasses against one another. Following suit, I stand and lean forward to meet all the glasses.

  When Stone gets to me, a devilish smirk crosses his perfect lips as he reaches across the table with his glass and tinks it against mine.

  The sleeve of his shirt rides up with his movement, and my breath stalls in my chest.

  A gleaming and very familiar watch sits on his wrist.

  Holy mother of God.

  It’s him.

  Nora freezes, her eyes locked on our touching glasses.

  I’m about to ask her if she’s okay when the glass in her hand falls from her fingers onto the table. Red wine splatters across the white linen table runner and runs across the tabletop.

  Someone gasps and says her name.

  “Oh, crap!” She seems to snap out of whatever the momentary lapse was as everyone scrambles to throw napkins on the spreading liquid.

  Everyone but me.

  What the fuck was that about?

  And did she just say crap? Who the fuck says crap?

  I watch her as she fumbles with the glass, trying to right it and mop up the wine.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her voice wavers slightly, and her hand shakes as she presses her napkin over the wine closest to her. A dark flush spreads up her neck and over her pale cheeks.

  Christ, I fucking love skin like hers and the way a flush or mark stands out in such sharp contrast.

  I will my dick to remain at heel so I don’t embarrass myself in front of the entire Hawke clan.

  Nervous eyes flit over just about everyone—except me. She makes a concerted effort not to glance my way. It simultaneously makes the corner of my mouth quirk up, knowing I am somehow affecting her, and makes my stomach churn with unease wondering what set her off. The last thing I want to do is scare her, especially now that I’m back home.

  It wasn’t an easy decision. But the workload at the firm, coupled with what Dom was asking of me, meant something had to give. Coming back to NOLA took a lot of convincing, but I think it’s ultimately for the best. I’ll have to work directly for Dom, and he’s referring me a lot of clients, plus I want to take on a few pro bono cases. I have so many more options here.

  I’ll also have Nora within reach. A moral conundrum if there ever was one. Seeing her, just being around her, seems to ease the ache in my chest, but I can never have her, which only creates more frustration.

  Being home will mean balancing a tight-rope between my attraction to her and my desire to do the right thing and keep her away from me.

  My mother appears at Nora’s side with a roll of paper towels. “It’s okay, dear. Spills happen.”

  I tip my glass back and down the remainder of my wine while I watch Nora become more and more frantic.

  What the hell is going on with her? She looks like she’s just seen a ghost.

  The wail of a very angry newborn cuts through the chaos. Dani turns to go attend to her in the bedroom, but Nora puts a hand on her arm to stop her. “It’s all right, I’ll go.”

  Confusion flits across Dani’s face for a moment, then her eyes flick over to me before returning to her sister. “Okay, thanks.”

  Nora scurries out of the room like her ass is on fire, and Dani and Savage both cast disapproving gazes at me. “What?”

  Mom finishes cleaning the table and disappears into the kitchen. Dani rolls her eyes at me and returns to her seat. “Stop making sexy eyes at my sister, Stone. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

  I bark out a laugh and drop back into my chair to finish my dinner. “I am not making sexy eyes at her. If she’s uncomfortable, that’s all on her.”

  Dani narrows her gaze on me and presses her lips together tightly but doesn’t utter another word. The baby’s cries stop, and she seems to relax a little as Savage places a hand on her forearm and rubs it gently.

  Shit.

  I didn’t mean to upset her. Even though Savage and I tend to butt heads, pretty much all the time, Dani is good for him, and I never want to hurt her, even unintentionally.

  Besides, it’s not like anything can ever happen with Nora. Shamelessly flirting with her and watching her from the shadows is going to have to be the extent of my contact with her. My dick practically weeps at that thought, but it’s the way it has to be.

  I hold my hands up in resignation. “Danika, there’s nothing to worry about. I promise I’ll be good.”

  Savage snorts and the corner of his mouth ticks up. “You? Good? That’ll be the fucking day…”

  He’s not wrong.

  Everything base and animal in me is screaming to grab Nora and show her what I really want from her. But she’s far too innocent to be stained and corrupted by me. If she weren’t a stripper, I would probably think she’s a virgin the way she flushes and reacts to mere glances from me.

  But the way she moves on stage tells me she’s used that body for more than just dancing.

  And I want it. I want her.

  Control your shit, Stone.

  Giving in would only prove Savage’s point.

  I glare at him but withhold the retort burning on the tip of my tongue.

  While his comment may be true, it doesn’t mean I appreciate him constantly reminding me how disappointed and embarrassed he is by me.

  His clear distain for my decision to work with and for Dom grates especially hard on my nerves. Dom has been nothing but good to our family. He took care of Mom when Dad died and was the only father figure I ever had. I think Savage sometimes forgets that while he had ten years with Dad, I was only five when he died. Dom stepped up and stepped in for him. Dom saved me.

  What he does isn’t always ethical or legal, but he’s good to us.

  Savage needs to give him some fucking credit.

  He also needs to realize I’m not his baby brother anymore, no matter what Mom says. I haven’t been for a very long time. I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions about who and how I fuck and who I work for.

  Being back in New Orleans permanently is certainly going to mean more conflict and confrontations with Savage. But he’s going to learn very soon that I’m not the same person I was when I left for college eight years ago.

  He has no idea who he’s fucking with. He can’t intimidate me anymore. The role of master and commander isn’t his anymore, and he’s just going to have to learn to accept that.

  From backstage, I peek around the corner of the wall and out beyond the main stage to the darkened area where the customers sit.

  I can’t see into the far corner, but that’s the whole
point, isn’t it?

  It’s precisely why he chooses that seat every single time. The shadows conceal his identity, or at least, they did.

  It’s been two weeks since the awkward and disastrous dinner at the Hawkes’ where Stone inadvertently outted himself as the shadow man, and I made a fool of myself before scampering out early without making eye contact with him again.

  Crap.

  Just thinking about that night makes me cringe.

  Why couldn’t I have just been cool and masked my reaction when I saw the watch? Instead, I was a total bumbling idiot.

  Real smooth, Nora, real smooth.

  I haven’t seen him—or the hand and watch, rather—since that night, but before every time I step onto the stage, I sneak a look out to the infamous corner to see if he’s there. I’m never sure if I want him to be there or not.

  Dancing with his eyes on me made me feel more exposed than I have in my entire life. It’s like he could see through the carefully crafted façade I created for Cashmere and saw all my secrets.

  Anyone knowing is scary, but a man like Stone Hawke knowing me intimately terrifies me. And we’ve barely spoken and only touched briefly when we first met at the rehearsal dinner.

  Honestly, if he were to get those big hands on me, I would probably shatter into a million pieces.

  So…

  Survival mode.

  Avoidance is always the best answer.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jump and whirl around. “Nothing.” Gabe eyes me suspiciously as I brush past him back toward the mirrors to touch up my makeup.

  He follows me over and leans against the counter. “I’m not blind. Every night, you’ve been looking for someone. Who is it?”

  “No one.” My answer probably came a little too quickly and with a little bit of a she-doth-protest-too-much vibe.

  Gabe scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Remember when you called me out on the Skye thing? Well, now it’s my turn. Something is going on. Are you involved with a customer?”

  “What?” I whip my head sideways and meet his questioning gaze, but only briefly. I’m a bad liar, and Gabe is too perceptive. Plus, he’s my boss. Lying to him just feels wrong. But I guess it’s not a lie really, because we aren’t dating. We aren’t anything. “No, of course not. I’m not that stupid.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Then, what’s up?”

  Geez, I wish I knew.

  I release a sigh and drop into the chair. It’s not like I can be honest with him. Gabe knows Stone way too well. They’re practically brothers, and given how close he is to Savage, I imagine his feelings about Stone mirror the oldest Hawke’s.

  So I need to tread carefully. “There’s a guy who’s been coming to watch me dance…” I trail off, not really sure how to explain what’s been happening.

  Gabe stiffens, and his eyes narrow on me. “Who is he? Did he do something out of line?”

  I shake my head and run my hands back through my curler-created spirals. “No, nothing like that. And, I’m not sure who he is. He always sits in that corner booth, where I can’t see him.” Tiny lie. I have never seen him…here.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  The words to describe what I feel when Stone watches me are hard to find without sounding totally crazy. I search for them while Gabe eyes me and waits. “I guess he makes me feel…exposed.”

  Gabe barks out a laugh and grins at me. “That’s really something, I guess, considering you’re about to bare it all for total strangers.”

  I can’t help but chuckle with him. “Believe me, I know how crazy it sounds.”

  His head shakes. “Not crazy at all. That’s exactly how I felt with Skye.”

  “Whoa! Back up a second, this is completely different. You’ve known Skye your entire life. I don’t even know who this guy is.”

  He shrugs and pushes off from the counter. “Sometimes, it doesn’t matter. You can’t help who you fall in love with or who gets under your skin. It just happens. Just remember the rules. No special treatment just because you are Savage’s sister-in-law.” With a parting wink, he disappears out toward the bar area and leaves me even more confused than before.

  Criminy…

  I don’t have time to worry about Stone.

  This job is supposed to be an escape. I’m not going to let him ruin that for me.

  Ignore him.

  Ignore how he makes you feel.

  Concentrate on forgetting everything that led you here.

  I return to the edge of the stage to get ready for my routine. Scarlett’s music winds down, and she saunters off stage toward me with a grin and a bunch of bills tucked into the garter on her left thigh.

  “Good crowd tonight. The guy in the first row on the left is a good tipper, and an ass man.”

  I smile at her. “Thanks.”

  She pauses next to me. “Did anyone tell you they are looking for some girls to take a couple shifts over at TWO? Apparently, they have a couple people out with the flu or something.”

  Huh?

  “No. I just spoke with Gabe, and he didn’t mention anything.”

  Why didn’t he tell me about this?

  “Well, you should ask him. I may go over a couple nights. I hear things are hot over there.”

  Getting out of here, even for a just a little while, would be good. I love working for Savage and Gabe, and Byron and the rest of the staff here is great, but working for your brother-in-law while his brother is secretly watching you from dark corners is causing me way too much anxiety right now.

  This job was supposed to be stress-free. I want and need to keep it that way. The last time I gave in to the crushing pressure of stress in my life, bad things happened.

  And I won’t allow myself to fall into that situation again.

  My music cues up, and I take one more quick peek out at the corner. It still appears to be deserted, but I guess I can’t know for sure until I step out onto the stage and feel the heat of his eyes on me.

  How is it possible to dread and crave something so much at the same time?

  If Dom doesn’t stop talking, I’m going to kick him in the fucking nuts. Or maybe throw the paper weight on his desk at his skull. Something to shut him the hell up.

  I should’ve known this meeting was going to be endless. Dom can never seem to get shit together so we can deal with it all at once. It’s always one disaster after another…on and on and on.

  My bouncing foot shakes the whiskey in my glass resting on my knee. I scratch idly at the skin on my exposed forearm.

  Christ.

  I’m not usually this wound up. But the move was one giant time-suck, and I haven’t been able to give myself any time to relax and enjoy myself. And, by the looks of how this meeting is going, I won’t have much now that I’m finally getting settled in here, either.

  I need a fucking release…sexual and otherwise.

  It would be nice to just do a line right now, just to relax—but Dom refuses to allow drugs in his office.

  Not that I blame him.

  He’s managed to stay out of the slammer thus far by keeping his hands relatively clean and leaving the dirty work to his underlings.

  Of course, he’d never have something as incriminating as blow in the same room as he is. Especially not after what happened all those years ago.

  Still, a little would be nice. The euphoria it produces can’t be rivaled. And the way it washes away all my worries for a while is something I desperately need right now.

  Dom is exhausting, but I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to move back here and essentially become his fixer.

  I don’t know what went down with the attorney who was handling his shit prior to me graduating law school, but somehow, I’ve become the “only one he can trust,” with just about everything.

  It isn’t exactly my first career choice—I mean, who goes to law school to become counsel for the mob? But I owe him.

  He’s gotten me out of some se
rious jams over the years, the least I can do is the same for him now that I’m qualified. If it weren’t for Dom, I’d probably have spent most of my time in juvie or jail and then probably would’ve made my way to prison.

  A mob boss being my saving grace sounds insane. But two things he always taught were respect and discipline. He made sure I got myself in control, and control became my entire life.

  “Stone?” I jerk my head up to look at Dom, and he narrows his eyes at me. “You okay, son?”

  “Yeah, sorry just thinking there for a moment.”

  He leans back in his chair and takes a sip of the 50 year Macallan he has sitting in his tumbler. “I was saying that I really need you to go talk to Castillo for me.”

  Shit.

  “What is it this time?”

  The corner of his mouth quirks up and he shrugs. “Well…they seem to have gotten it into their heads that they can take over the area.” He snorts and takes another sip. “We both know that’s not happening.”

  “No, it’s not. What would you like me to do?”

  “Reason with them.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Why can’t you do that?”

  He leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. “I may have accidentally insulted Castillo the last time we met in person. I don’t think he likes me very much right now.”

  “Dom, nobody likes you very much.”

  His head falls back as he roars with laughter. Most people would probably be terrified to insult a man like Dom, but I know he’s not as bad as everybody thinks he is. Plus, he would never, ever do anything to hurt me. I’m more of a son than his own damn kid.

  When his wife left him, and took Luca with her when he was only four years old, Dom didn’t do anything to stop her. I was too young to really question it. I know Dom still supports them, but she doesn’t want him to have anything to do with his son.

  I can’t say I blame her. We grew up with Dom around, and Mom has always turned a blind eye to his shady dealings, but there’s a very real danger there. And as his son, Luca would have been a prime target. From what I understand, Patricia fled back to her parents somewhere in New Jersey, and I haven’t seen her or Luca since. I’m sure Dom watches them. It’s strange that he hasn’t tried to bring Luca into the fold. I can only assume it’s to keep him safe. But I’m sure Dom has eyes on them to assure that.