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

by Gwyn McNamee

  “If you think Savage is a control freak, geez…Stone would blow your mind. I can’t even put it into words. He just controls…everything. If he told me to stop breathing, I’d probably do it without even thinking.”

  Caroline presses her hand over her heart and sighs. “Damn, girl, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I am so fucking jealous right now.”

  I understand why she would feel that way. There’s something about a man who takes complete control that just ruins most women. But I never wanted someone to have that much power over me. I let the drugs take over my life and completely change my direction and focus, and I couldn’t let that happen again. I never knew I wanted or needed that…until I met Stone.

  “It was great, for a couple weeks, but…”

  Criminey.

  How can I tell her this without telling her everything?

  “But what, honey?”

  I bury my face in my hands and will the tears back. “Everything went to crap tonight. He was…” I suck in a breath and struggle for the right word. “Brutal. It’s like he was intentionally trying to hurt me.”

  Caroline grabs my arm and tugs on it until I turn my face to her.

  Anger flashes in her eyes. “Did that bastard lay a hand on you? I swear to God, if he fucking touched you, I will rip off his nuts with my bare hands and shove them down his throat until he fucking chokes on them.”

  Well. That was graphic.

  I shake my head and pat her arm. “No, not like that. He was just so cold and heartless with the things he said tonight. I never expected it from him, but maybe I should have. Everyone tried to warn me.”

  She laughs mirthlessly and tugs me into tight hug. “Oh, honey. The heart wants what it wants. And you can’t control who you fall in love with. Everyone is somewhat blind to the faults of the person they love, that’s just human nature. You can’t blame yourself for him being a fucking prick.”

  The person they love?

  Do I love Stone?

  I care about him. Far more than I should. I can admit that. But love him? I sure as heck hope not. Because if I do, I am well and truly in a deep pile of S. H. I. T.

  How the fuck did I get to my bed?

  I roll onto my back and stabbing knives assault my brain. The cotton dryness of my mouth and throat makes it hard to swallow.

  Fuuuuccckkkkk…

  Last night was a cluster fuck of epic proportions. The ache in my head echoes that in my heart. Those things I said to her…God. How could I be so damn cold after she opened up to me completely…after she revealed everything I’ve been asking of her since we got together? Since before we even got together.

  She laid it all out, the worst thing she had ever done in her life, the thing that changed the entire course of her life, and I shoved it back in her face and kicked her out of my fucking house in tears.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  My conversation with Dom returns to the front of my mind…and it’s crystal clear again. Acid burns up my throat, and I lurch from bed to race to the bathroom and heave up the bile in my stomach.

  Shit.

  A few minutes on the cold tile calm my gag reflex enough for me to rise to my feet. The man staring back at me from the mirror is a fucking stranger, though.

  Red, bloodshot eyes. Bags that make me look like I’m fifty-five instead of twenty-six. Splotchy, unshaven skin. But the thing that terrifies me most, the thing that almost has me lunging for the toilet again, is the emptiness in my stare. There’s nothing there anymore. Everything is gone. All the joy and peace I found with Nora…gone in a fucking instant.

  Christ. I’m a fucking wreck.

  Even though I know I had to let her go. I had to get her away from me, what I said was just…unforgiveable. I scrub my hands over my face several times, trying to scrape away what happened last night.

  It doesn’t do any good.

  That look in her eyes, the tears streaming down her face, that quivering lip…even all that coke can’t erase those images from my head.

  There’s no way I can let things end with Nora like that. Even if I can’t be with her, I need to at least apologize and make her understand what I said had nothing to do with her. That my words were meant to hurt, but they weren’t true. They aren’t how I really feel. I can’t let her go on believing she’s worthless.

  I stagger back to bed and grab for my phone on the nightstand. When I open the messages, I toss out a silent prayer there’s one from Nora.

  Nothing.

  Not even a “Bite me A-hole” or whatever non-sweary thing she could say to sum up what she feels.

  It’s never been a secret that I can be a real asshole, but last night went above and beyond douchecanoe and straight into doucheyacht territory.

  She didn’t deserve that. All she wanted to do was check on me and make sure I was okay, and I took her admission and threw it back in her fucking face.

  You’re a fucking prick, Stone.

  I glance at the clock.

  Shit.

  I’m going to be late for court if I don’t get my shit together. Nora will have to wait. Everything that needs to be said has to be said in person, I can’t do it over the phone or a text.

  It must to be done face to face, where she can’t just turn off her phone to get rid of me, where she has to look me in the eye and see how sincerely sorry I am and hear the truth in my words when I tell her she is everything good in this world.

  It’s my only chance to get her to listen.

  A quick shower and race to the courthouse later, I trudge into Judge Calhoun’s courtroom, still feeling like ass and like a complete asshole.

  “You're not looking so good, counselor. You feeling all right?”

  I am most definitely not feeling all right, but I'm not about to tell the judge’s clerk that. Instead, I plaster on my most charming smile and lean down over her desk. “I'm fine, Nancy, just a little overworked…the usual.” I force a chuckle to make sure she buys my line.

  She looks down at her list of cases on the docket for the day. “You’re here on Michael Figueroa? Looks like there's two cases ahead of you. I'll try to get you in as soon as I can, though.”

  This is why you have to be nice to clerks. A little flirting, an occasional box of chocolates, and treating them like human beings goes a long way. People who treat them like dirt end up spending their entire days waiting around for their cases to be called and waiting weeks to get on the docket. I make one call, and I can be in front of almost any judge the same day, if need be.

  I shoot her a wink and a grin and wander over to the chairs where attorneys wait. Michael nods at me from his place in the benches at the back of the courtroom. After a quick greeting to the handful of other attorneys waiting for their cases, I pull out my cell phone.

  A push notification from the local news channel’s app immediately catches my attention.

  EXPLOSION ROCKS WAREHOUSE

  Shit.

  My hand trembles as I swipe to open the article.

  Just as I suspected. It’s one of Dom’s places. Probably retaliation for what he did to Castillo.

  It’s one more reason I can’t have Nora anywhere near me. Even if she wants to be, after I tell her the truth, which I highly doubt, this life is too dangerous to have her wrapped up in it. I never should have been selfish enough to get involved with her in the first place. Hopefully, our relationship has slipped under the radar, and after what I said to her, it won’t be an issue anymore anyway. I’ll apologize and make sure she understands this is about me, not her, as fucking lame as that sounds. Then, I’ll let her go.

  There’s still no messages from her, but there are five texts from Dom telling me he needs to talk to me immediately. No doubt about the fact one of his warehouses just went up in flames.

  Motherfucker.

  The last thing I want to think about right now is Dom, or what he told me last night, which would be inevitable if I go meet with him. I want this to go away again, even thou
gh I know that’s impossible now.

  It’s not that I’m worried about going to jail. That ship sailed a long time ago. There’s no way they could charge me with anything more than manslaughter for shooting Nora’s father. I was twelve, and I didn’t know he was a cop. I was protecting Dom from what I thought was a real threat. The statute of limitations requires they would have had to charge me within six years.

  No, going to jail isn’t my concern. The reaction of every single important person in my life is.

  Dani and Nora deserve to know the truth about what happened to their father and my role in his death. I just don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to do that. How do you look a woman you’re falling in love with in the face and tell her you killed her father?

  Shit. I’m falling in love with her.

  But I’m not mentally prepared to tell them what happened. I need time to wrap my head around it. Time to form a plan. I’m going to have to try to explain what happened last night without revealing the true motivations for my actions. After what I said, there’s a good chance she won’t let me anywhere near her. It was heartless, and cruel, and downright fucking spiteful. If I were in her shoes, I would do a lot more than run the other way, I’d probably be looking for ways to inflict physical damage equivalent to the emotional damage perpetrated against me.

  But Nora’s a different animal. She’s too sweet and forgiving for her own good.

  That may play in my favor.

  Kashmir has just reached its peak when I lift my head and my eyes meet the ones I hoped to never see for the rest of my life.

  What is he doing here?

  The last time those dark eyes looked into mine, I was making the biggest mistake of my life. My heart seizes in my chest, a cold sweat breaks out across my skin, and my head swims as panic sets in.

  His momentary shock is quickly replaced by a giant smile spreading across his face.

  Oh God. Oh crap.

  He recognized me.

  Son of an ever loving gun…

  Someone whistles, and I realize I stopped moving, my concentration on my routine utterly destroyed by Nick's presence here.

  I need to get my crap together or I'm not going to have a job anymore. Gabe and Byron are already worried about me, and Lord knows if they say anything to Savage, I'll be done soon.

  And I don’t have a dang clue what I would do without this job.

  Somehow, despite fear making my limbs shake, I manage to regain my composure and get myself back on the pole for the rest of the song while avoiding looking in Nick’s direction again.

  But my stomach feels like it's climbed up into my throat, and the room is swirling around me like I’m drunk. When I stumble offstage, Dawn casts me a worried look. Her warm arm wraps around me, and she assists me over to a chair.

  “You okay, honey? What happened?”

  No, I'm not okay.

  What the heck is Nick doing here? It's been almost two years, and I never expected to see him again. I hoped he had dropped off the face of the Earth. Maybe been arrested for dealing. Did he know I work here? Is he looking for me?

  Oh God.

  Oh God.

  Oh God.

  I drop my head into my hands. Dawn rubs my back gently.

  “Honey, you're scaring me a little. Are you okay?”

  It must look like I'm having a freaking mental breakdown so I pull myself together and raise my head up. “I'm all right, I just got a little dizzy on stage. I don't think I had enough water today. I'm a little dehydrated.”

  Good cover, Nora.

  I practically roll my eyes at myself.

  Dawn casts me a dubious look that tells me she’s less than convinced. But she gets up and walks over to the cooler, grabs me a bottle of water, and returns to me with it. “Well, drink this. You got a while before you have to go back on again, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah, another forty-five minutes or so.”

  “Okay, good. I'll check on you when I'm done. But if you aren’t feeling good, you should tell Byron.”

  Not a lot Byron can do about why I feel like crap. Not a lot anyone can do. I put myself in this situation when I climbed into bed with Nick for a few dang pills. I did this to myself by selling my body to feed my success in school. I force a smile. “All right, thanks, love.”

  She disappears, and I pop the top of the water and guzzle half of it before my heart finally stops racing.

  Maybe he didn't recognize me. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. I mean, I certainly don't look like I did when I was in school. My Cashmere personae and appearance is about as far from how I looked before as possible.

  “Cashmere?” The male voice makes me jump before I look in the mirror and see it's only Rocky standing behind me in the doorway.

  “Hey, what's up, Rocky?”

  “You have a customer out here asking for you. He says he's an old friend of yours. Nick?”

  Dang it.

  I guess it wasn't my imagination. Of course he recognized me. We had class together for months before we ever slept together. I can't really say that I won't go talk to him. That would create a lot of questions I don't want to have to answer. I just need to get myself together enough to say a couple words to him and then I can come back here. I just need to maintain and be professional for two minutes. I can do it.

  “I'll be out in a minute, okay?”

  He nods and retreats back into the club.

  How do I make it through a conversation with Nick?

  He called several times after that night and left me messages wondering why I wasn’t in class and asking if we could go out.

  What an absolute moron to not understand what happened and why I’ve been avoiding him. I guess maybe in his world, it’s normal for women to sleep with men for drugs, but it’s not in mine. I'm sure he didn't think he was doing anything wrong and has no idea how what happened has crushed me.

  I take a deep breath and walk on shaking legs out into the main club. My eyes meet his almost immediately, and he grins at me and approaches with his arms open.

  “Cashmere!” He winks at me, and I hold out a hand to stop him from embracing me. Not only is it against the rules of the club, but I'm pretty sure I'd vomit if he puts his hands on me again.

  “Sorry, Nick. I can't here.” Or anywhere else, for that matter.

  He drops his arms and nods his understanding while looking around. “Oh right, sorry. I guess I'm just excited to see you. I tried to get a hold of you. Where did you disappear to?’

  I glance around the club and shrug. “Here.”

  Confusion flashes in his eyes. “Wait, so you dropped out of school to become a stripper? Not that there's anything wrong with that.”

  I'd love to be able to tell him exactly why I really quit school. I’d love to be able to scream at him and tell him how he took advantage of me when I was at my weakest point and that he’s probably done it to scores of others and ruined their lives with the stuff he slings.

  But I don't want to cause a scene here, and it won’t change anything. It won’t change where I am now.

  It’s clear he genuinely doesn’t think he did anything wrong, and there's a problem with that, a very real one, but it's not one that I have the energy to correct right now.

  “I had a lot going on back then, and school was just becoming too much with my personal stuff, so that's why I left.”

  Fair enough answer that should shut him up.

  He runs his hand back to his sandy blond hair and offers me a tentative smile. “That sucks, I mean, I really hoped to hear from you after that night, you know.”

  What a moron.

  “Yeah, I'm sorry I disappeared.”

  God, Nora, that sounded so lame. He's going to know something is wrong.

  Thankfully, I don't have to struggle to recover because Byron catches my eye from across the room and mouths “do you need help?” I give him a slight nod that I hope Nick doesn't catch and wait for Byron to come to my rescue. He makes it to me in thirty seco
nds flat and wraps an arm around me.

  “Hey Cashmere, I need your help with something. Can you spare a couple minutes?”

  I try not to sigh audibly with relief. “Oh sure, Byron. Sorry, Nick, I’ve got to go, but it is nice to see you again.”

  The words are like acid coming from my mouth.

  His eyes light up. “Oh yeah? It was nice to see you too. Maybe…can I give you my number?”

  I shrug and show my empty hands. “No phone. And I'm kind of seeing someone.”

  Disappointment is evident in his gaze, and the interest is just as evident in Byron’s. I have a feeling there are going to be some questions later. About a lot of things.

  Byron always seems to know what's happening in the club, and there's no doubt that after our last conversation, he's going to want me to spill.

  Honestly, he’s really easy to talk to and always has some pretty decent advice. So being able to tell him about Nick and Stone and everything that happened would probably be a huge weight off my shoulders, but frankly, I don't think I can keep myself together long enough to do that if I start talking.

  With Byron’s hand on my lower back, we walk to the changing room, and I drop into a chair.

  “You ready to tell me what the hell is going on now? Is that the guy who has had you all messed up? Or is it the guy you are seeing?”

  Uggg.

  I might as well come clean. Something tells me, if I don’t, things will only spiral more out of control.

  “If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone. I mean it. No running to Savage or Gabe. No one.”

  His eyes narrow. “As long as you aren’t in any danger, I can do that.”

  “Well, danger is a relative term.”

  The unknown number flashes on my screen. It’s the last thing I need right now. It could be anyone, including Dom, who I have no doubt will be sending someone to collect me in the near future. He may be cutting me some slack and giving me a little space to come to grips with everything, but it won’t last. I know too much. There’s no way he’s going to let me flap in the wind for long.