Steele Resolve: A Hawke Family Story

by Gwyn McNamee

  I can’t say I know what that feels like. I’ve never had the option or opportunity to not care about what people think. The second we set foot in Jersey, even at ten, I knew what was expected of me, and up until the incident in Baltimore, I managed to hide my true self from the world and the people who would do me harm.

  “I get it. You had been hurt, emotionally and physically.”

  He silently nods and meets my eyes. “I think what happened back home with my parents just put me in a mindset of my business is not anybody else’s and that it was too much of a risk to let people know.”

  I chuckle at that because he has no idea what risk really is. The kind of risk I faced when “friends” in Jersey found out. The gun that was placed to my temple. The words that were said. The promises made. But he struggled and suffered, just the same. It was simply in a different way.

  “So, you just walked in there and asked for a job?”

  He chuckles, and the first hint of humor flashes in his dark eyes. “Pretty much. Savage and Gabe were still really young back then, and the club had only been open for six months. They were still struggling to find good staff, and I swore to them I was reliable and would never miss a day at work. They hired me to bartend even though I had no fucking clue what I was doing, but I learned fast, and within six months, they made me the manager.”

  “That’s a lot of trust to give someone so quickly.”

  His body stiffens.

  Poor choice of words? Or exactly the right ones to get to the heart of everything that’s happening between us.

  He nods slowly. “And I always appreciated them doing that for me.”

  I set my silverware down and lean forward to rest my elbows on the table. “And that’s why what we’re doing is killing you so much? Because you feel like you’re betraying that trust?”

  Anger darkens his eyes. “Aren’t I?”

  A pain slices at my stomach.

  How can he not see?

  “No. You’re an adult who is perfectly capable of and has a right to make his own decisions, especially about who to be romantically involved with. You’ve had enough people with an opinion about who you fuck. Are you going to let the Hawkes control that now?”

  He glares at me, and his fingers tighten so hard on his fork that his knuckles go white. “They’re not controlling anything.”

  “Aren’t they? Because it seems to me like you’re refusing to give this an actual chance because of them.”

  He scoffs. “An actual chance? I don’t even know what to do with that.” His silverware clatters to the plate, and he shoves away from the table and paces the room. “I don’t know what to do with any of this.”

  I motion toward the seat he just vacated. “You can start by coming back over here and sitting down and finishing your meal. Go from there.”

  9

  Saint and Caroline stare back at me dumbstruck. Neither one of them expected the revelation that just came out. The fact I’m not hiding I’m gay from them seems to have thrown them completely.

  I can see why. If the roles were reversed and I were meeting with a powerful and dangerous crime boss, and he told me, I would suspect a trap.

  It’s a big secret, one they could use against me in any number of ways. But if I’m going to demand Byron face his feelings for me, I would be a fucking hypocrite if I didn’t come clean with Caroline when she came here and put her life at risk to try to help her friends. My friends. The very people I’m trying so damn hard to find my way back to.

  If Caroline or Saint choose to reveal this information in a way that hurts me, I’ll deal with the consequences. Until then, there’s only one way to move.

  Forward.

  “Now, is there anything else you wanted to discuss today? I’m a very busy man and have several appointments later to attend.”

  She pulls her lip between her teeth and glances at Saint nervously before returning her focus to me. “Well, there is one more thing. I’m hoping to ask you for a favor.”

  I chuckle and lean back in my chair. “You have some balls, Ms. Brooks. You came here, trying to blackmail me with information you didn’t even have, and then, when I give you exactly what you’re looking for you, you ask me for a favor?”

  She forces a tight smile. Saint growls deep in his chest. The big man looks ready to leap across the desk at me, but he won’t. He has a role to play, and it isn’t the instigator. Savage and Gabe would never hire him if he didn’t know how to handle himself in a situation like this, and he’s not dumb. The intelligence in his eyes as he stares me down is more than clear.

  Caroline glances at him and sighs. “Look, I’ll be honest, my reason for coming here was twofold. I had hoped to get you to back off the Hawkes to make sure we’ll all be safe. But I’ve also been looking for a big story to do for the newspaper, something that might help me move up the ranks. I thought an exposé on the new crime boss in town might be just the ticket.” She holds up a hand. “However, I’m not going to out you. That’s just…too low. My ethics wouldn’t ever permit me to do that anyone, even you. So, what if I flip the story?”

  I raise an eyebrow at her.

  Where is she going with this?

  I didn’t think she would out me. She knows how dangerous that would be for her, and for me, even though I haven’t directly threatened them, yet flipping the story is intriguing.

  “How do you mean, Ms. Brooks?”

  She leans forward in her chair, and her eyes light up. “Well, what if instead of an exposé, we did a series of interviews. We present you as a businessman here to take over some of the legitimate businesses your father had and to clean up the Abello name.”

  Saint snorts. “So, you lie?”

  I chuckle. “Now, now, Saint, I made it very clear during my meeting with the Hawkes that’s exactly what I’m here to do. Am I still going to dabble in my father’s businesses that are not so legal? Of course, but I’m not my father, and what happened under Dom Abello will not happen under Luca Abello. I want to have a clean image here, so the story might be just what I’m looking for.”

  Caroline’s eyes light up. “Really?”

  Most men in my line of work try their damnedest to stay out of the spotlight. They may lead extravagant lifestyles, but when it comes down to it, talking with reporters and being in the newspaper and on television only hurts them. But I’m not like the other men in this business.

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Ms. Brooks, and I’d be happy to sit for as many interviews as you need to complete your story. Why don’t we start next week?”

  She grins, and Saint scowls even harder. I rise and walk around the desk. I hold out my hand to her.

  Her tiny palm meets mine. “Thank you, Mr. Abello.”

  “Please, call me Luca.”

  She giggles awkwardly. “Luca.”

  Saint rises to his feet and towers over even me. The man is just massive. There’s no other way to describe him. I hold out my hand to him. He pauses for a moment, staring down at it before his dark eyes find mine. He clenches his jaw and reaches out to shake with me. His massive meat hook practically crushes my fingers. He’s making a statement. I get it loud and clear. If I harm a hair on Caroline’s head, he’s going to kill me.

  And I have no doubt he would. He would find a way. No matter how much security I have, no matter how much I do to try to protect myself, Saint would make it happen.

  But I have no intention of harming this woman. Not only would the Hawkes never forgive me, but Byron would never set foot in the same room with me. There’s no reason to make Caroline and Saint enemies any more than they already are. I have enough enemies.

  What I don’t have are friends. And while we may never go out for drinks or dinner together, we may never celebrate a holiday and snap photos, what we can do is enter into a mutually beneficial agreement. One where she gets what she wants for her job, and I get what I want to help cement my presence here in NOLA.

  A very public profile story would shove it
in the face of anyone considering stepping up to me that I am here to stay.

  She could be exactly what I’m looking for.

  I jerk awake and rub my eyes to clear away the sleep. I push myself up in bed and glance around the dark room.

  What the hell was that?

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  Who the hell is pounding at my door at two a.m.?

  I throw back the covers and make my way through my dark apartment to the door.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  Getting woken up in the middle of the night by some asshole is the last thing I need. I finally managed to fall asleep after battling with myself for hours about wanting to go to Luca’s. For once, common sense won, and I didn’t go crawling over here.

  I glance through the peephole.

  Shit. What the hell is he doing here?

  The smart thing to do would be not answer. But he won’t go away if I don’t. I scrub my hands over my face, unlock the door, and tug it open. Luca shoves past me, turns around, and pushes the door closed. The lock clicks into place.

  “What the hell, Luca?”

  His dark eyes roam over my nearly naked body, and he takes a step forward, closing the distance between us and backing me into the door. His left hand hits the wood, followed by his right, caging me in against it.

  My heart flutters, and my cock hardens, and he hasn’t even touched me.

  I finally manage to find words. “You can’t be here.”

  There isn’t enough will-power left in my body to have him this close. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

  He shifts his hips forward and presses his erection against mine. “I came to tell you something important.”

  I shove my hips back against his, trying to put a little distance between us, but all it does is cause a delicious friction that has me biting back a groan. “I don’t think you coming here to tell me you need to get off is important.”

  A sly grin curls the corner of his mouth, and he brushes his thumb over my quivering lip. “That wasn’t what I came for.”

  The desire burning in his gaze and the hard dick pressed against me says otherwise. He’s a fucking liar. Always has been. Always will be.

  “Then tell me whatever is so important and leave.”

  He leans in and brushes his lips against my ear. His warm breath floats across my skin, sending goosebumps skittering all over. “I had a lovely visit with some of your friends today.”

  I freeze, and when he pulls back, I narrow my eyes at him. “Who? What did you do?”

  “The lovely Miss Caroline Brooks and her boyfriend, Saint Clarke.”

  “Shit.”

  He chuckles and shifts his hand up to press it against my naked chest. My heart thunders under his palm.

  I swallow through a dry throat. “What did you do?”

  He raises a dark eyebrow at me. “You have so little faith in me? That hurts. They showed up at my office of their own volition. Ms. Brooks is interested in writing a piece on me for the newspaper and Saint…well, he was interested in protecting Ms. Brooks.”

  I practically choke. “A story on you? What kind of story?”

  That grin appears, the one that simultaneously makes my cock throb and my gut churn.

  “The kind that could help establish me as a legitimate businessman a lot more quickly than if I tried to do it on my own.”

  “So, you agreed?”

  He nods. His thumb brushes slowly across my nipple. It pebbles under the attention, and I bite back a groan.

  “I did, after a rather lengthy conversation revealed some very intimate details of my life.”

  My blood runs cold as he rolls his hips against mine. I clench my fists at my sides. “You didn’t.”

  He quirks an eyebrow. “So what if I did? You’re going to have to tell them eventually, aren’t you?”

  I shove against his chest to get him to back away, but he doesn’t move an inch. “What the hell did you tell them?”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.” Hurt touches his black eyes. “They know I’m gay. I needed to tell them to explain my departure from New Jersey. Ms. Brooks was digging around into an incident that occurred in Baltimore several months before I arrived here that was going to out me anyway.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head. “Jesus…”

  This is so, so, so bad.

  Even if he didn’t tell them about us, Saint and Caroline knowing he’s gay puts his life at risk. A life I care way too fucking much about.

  “They won’t say anything.”

  My eyes fly open. “How can you be so sure?”

  “It wouldn’t advance any goals for Ms. Brooks since I agreed to the interviews and story. And they know outing me would be a death sentence for them. And me. And if they knew about our involvement, you too.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  The last thing I need is the Hawkes or anyone connected with them snooping around and talking to Luca. It would only take one wrong word, and they would know everything. They would know my betrayal.

  Luca leans in and brushes his lips against my ear again. “Don’t worry, Byron. They don’t know about us.”

  I growl. “There is no us.”

  He grinds his cock against me again, and mine twitches in response. “I beg to differ. There is very much an us. You’re just in denial.”

  His lips are on mine before I can retort. The kiss is hard and brutal, just like the man delivering it. His hand moves off the door and captures my face, holding me steady as he pushes me against the hard surface.

  Fuck. Just fuck.

  This. Us. It will destroy everything.

  But I need it once more.

  Just one more night to be selfish. One more night to enjoy the little bit of joy he brings me. The way he gets my heart thundering and my blood rushing in my ears. Even when he’s being an arrogant bastard, I want him. Maybe even more.

  I wrap my arms around his waist and turn him, so he’s against the door, and I’m finally the one in control.

  It doesn’t happen much with us, but maybe it’s what I need to close the door on this fucked-up chapter.

  He groans against my mouth as I tug at his suit coat and shove it off to drop to the floor at our feet. I yank at his belt and zipper until his pants drop down to his knees. His tongue lashes at mine, greedily drinking in the thing I need just as much.

  Ravenous hands claw the waistband of my boxers and shove them down while I do the same to his. I dig my hands into his hips and yank him away from the door. He opens his mouth to say something, but I shove him around to face the door and push him against it.

  He looks over his shoulder, and his eyes flare—but not with anger. No. It’s pure lust staring back at me. He’s not going to fight me on this. He’s going to let me take control.

  And I won’t waste time questioning why.

  Because as soon as it’s over, so are we.

  10

  The silence of the club engulfs me.

  It’s always a bit odd to come into work early in the morning before it’s open. Everything is so still, so quiet, so different than what it normally looks and sounds like. No bumping bass music. No naked women hanging from poles. No drunk men, hooting and hollering.

  It’s the only time of day I get to actually get work done—schedules, ordering, staff issues, it all takes time I don’t have once we’re open. But today, I’m not relishing the loneliness.

  Being alone means thinking.

  Thinking means regretting.

  Regretting means guilt…and I’ve had enough of that already.

  The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of incredible nights with Luca and mornings filled with early walks of shame, awkward goodbyes, and dark clouds of disgrace.

  I knew I’d go back to him. It was as inevitable as the sun rising every morning and setting every evening. But every time I knocked on his hotel room door, I shoved all the reasons I shouldn’t be there into a locked box in the back of my mind. I gave into my base needs and desires. Damn the co
nsequences.

  Pleasure like that can cloud a great many things. Like the truth. Being here, in the stillness of the club early in the morning, the reality slaps me right in the face.

  I can’t keep doing this.

  The longer I put off telling the Hawkes, the worse the fallout will be. For all of us. I may have finally ended things with Luca that night at my place—after he let me fuck out all the hate and pain—but it doesn’t absolve me of what happened, of what I did for weeks.

  And every day I come here and look the Hawkes in the eye, I feel worse and worse.

  I set my bag on the bar, pull out a stool, and open the morning paper. The to-go cup of coffee in my hand is still hot enough to scald my mouth as I take a sip. The burn is welcome. Sharp pain urging me to do what needs to be done. I need to tell them.

  Soon.

  I flip through the paper, mindlessly skimming the headlines to try to clear my head at least for a little while until I almost choke on my coffee.

  The New Don in New Orleans

  Luca Abello Speaks Out

  Story Page 5

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I flip to page five.

  He warned me this was coming eventually, but I wasn’t ready for it. Not at all.

  In the weeks since I finally broke things off with him, I tried to forget it all, tried to push things down and lock them away in some dark place I never need to revisit. Somehow, I thought that might let me get away with never telling the Hawkes.

  It was over anyway, so why bother telling them at all? Because of this.

  This is not good. This is not good at all.

  The coffee I just drank and the protein bar I ate on the way here roil in my stomach as I dive into the article.

  Everyone knows the name Abello and not for a good reason. Domenico Abello was the king of the New Orleans underworld. He ruled with an iron fist and a quick trigger finger and was responsible for a hurricane of carnage in the city over the last several decades. But there’s a new Abello in town, one who wants to make it clear he’s not his father. He’s here to be Luca Abello, the son of Domenico, who left New Orleans at age ten and recently returned. He insists he’s come back to the city of his birth to clean up the family name and to run his father’s legitimate businesses.