Steele Resolve: A Hawke Family Story

by Gwyn McNamee

  Something nags at the back of my mind. Something that can’t go unsaid.

  Tell them.

  “There’s one more thing I want you guys to know.”

  Savage furrows his brow. “What’s that?”

  “I do think he genuinely cares about you. About the family. And he really does mean you no harm.”

  He scoffs and gives a humorless laugh. “That’s all well and good, but we don’t want to end up collateral damage.”

  Neither do I.

  And it already feels like my heart has taken a bullet.

  It doesn’t matter how long you’re in this business. It doesn’t matter how many times someone you know dies or how many threats are made against you. When you walk into your office and find something sitting in the middle of your desk that shouldn’t be there, a shiver will always roll down your spine, and you will always second-guess your decision to be involved in this lifestyle.

  I stare at the item on my desk as I try to shake off the sudden chill. “Alessandro, get the fuck in here.”

  His heavy footsteps thud down the hall toward me, and I move to the side so he can step in the door. “Sir?”

  “What the fuck is this?” I point toward my desk.

  He brushes past me, grabs the pool cue off my desk, and twirls it in his hand. “I don’t know, sir.”

  I glare at him. “How did it get here?”

  He shrugs and examines the cue. “It’s not yours?”

  “Fuck, you’re an idiot. When have you ever seen me with a pool cue?”

  The last time I held one was that first night with Byron at The Back Pocket. With him bent over the table and me sidled up behind him. The start of a night that led to so much more.

  Alessandro flinches and finally looks a little sheepish. “Sir, someone must’ve gotten in last night.”

  “And how the hell would that happen? Who was on duty last night?”

  He scratches the side of his head. “I think Frank.”

  I slam my hand against the door. “Well, fucking go get him!”

  He sets the cue down on the desk and pushes past me out the door. I step into my office and clench my fists at my sides.

  This is a message. A clear one.

  Someone knows.

  About me.

  About The Back Pocket.

  Probably about Byron.

  The fact that Byron ended things and we aren’t together anymore won’t matter. He’s just as much of a target. And I brought it on him. I’m the one who kept forcing things, kept making him examine his feelings about it and trying to convince him this was good for us.

  I was the one overlooking and ignoring the dangers in favor of selfish needs.

  And I’d do it all over again. In a fucking heartbeat. Because I miss him. More than I’ve missed anyone or anything in my entire fucking life. It took every ounce of willpower I possess to walk away from him that night, to give him what he wanted when what I wanted was to rage and argue with him about what a shit decision he was making.

  Part of me hoped he would come crawling back the way he had for weeks, but he didn’t. He said he was done, and he’s kept his promise. I thought maybe the article coming out would help him see I’m not such a bad guy, but so far, it’s been crickets.

  I pull out my phone and pull up our last text message from weeks ago. Before that night I let him take control. Before that night he fucked me and demanded I leave. Before that night he fucking broke a heart I thought was dead and black.

  My fingers fly over the screen.

  < I miss you. >

  Only seconds pass before those three little bubbles pop up. My heart stops, and I hold my breath. At least he’s responding. That’s a good sign.

  > I can’t. <

  I release a rush of breath and fight the desire to chuck my phone across the room. That man has no idea what he’s done to me. What a fucking mess I’ve become since he left me. And now, he’s in danger even when he tries to stay away.

  Frank appears in the door. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  I lean back against my desk to face him. “You were on duty last night.”

  He stands with his hands crossed at his lower back. “Yes, sir.”

  “And all was quiet?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No alarms? Nobody here?”

  He clears his throat and shakes his head. “All was quiet.”

  “Then, explain to me how someone got in and placed something on my desk.”

  His eyes widen, and he glances behind me at the offending item. “I don’t know, sir.”

  “You don’t know?” I have morons working for me. No wonder the Abello empire crumbled. If these are the kind of people who worked for Dom.

  “And you remained here at the building the entire shift?”

  The man swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, here the whole time, sir.”

  He’s lying. And he’s not very good at it.

  “No chance you snuck away to meet a woman, perhaps for a little while?” I raise an eyebrow at him and wait for a response.

  Men stronger than him have withered under my stare. It’s only a matter of time before he caves, too.

  He shifts nervously and avoids eye contact. “No-no, sir.”

  “Should I check the surveillance cameras?” I’m going to anyway to see if they caught who might have brought this in. It’s so much easier to fight an enemy when you’ve seen his face. Though anyone clever enough to get in here would also be smart enough not to leave a traceable trail back to himself.

  His head jerks up, and his eyes meet mine. “I turned them off.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Why would you do that if you were here the whole time alone?”

  He shifts nervously. “I didn’t leave, but a woman may have come to visit me for a while.”

  Fucking men, always thinking with their dicks. It will undoubtedly be man’s downfall.

  “How long were the cameras off?”

  He offers me a shrug, as if his failure didn’t expose us all, expose me to a major threat. “An hour, maybe an hour and a half.”

  More than enough time to get in and get out.

  “And you didn’t hear anything during that time?”

  His face reddens. “Sir, I was otherwise engaged and wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  It’s no secret Castillo has been looking for a weakness. A hole. A way to get to me. It had to be Castillo who did this. The woman was probably a plant designed to distract the guard.

  “Have you known this woman long?”

  He narrows his eyes. “We just met a few days ago.”

  Cazzo. Fucking hell.

  “That’s all. Go back to your post.”

  I’ll have Alessandro deal with him later. Right now, I need to figure out what to do. I could confront Castillo, or I could make a move. Answer back to show him I don’t bend to threats.

  The first might be more diplomatic. The second is probably what Dom would have done. Both have pitfalls.

  No one ever said this job was easy.

  12

  ONE MONTH LATER

  “You’re back.” The same bartender who was here the night I met Luca saunters over to the end of the bar as I slide onto the stool.

  I can’t believe he remembers me.

  It was one night. Months ago. And he must see hundreds of new faces every week.

  I flash him a smile, even though it’s forced. I can’t even remember the last time I had a genuine one. “I’m back.”

  He gives me a lopsided grin and scans the bar. “Where’s your friend from last time?”

  I bark out a sardonic laugh and shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  That’s probably a pretty normal answer around here. It may not be the typical pickup joint, but there’s no doubt I wasn’t the first guy to go home with somebody he met here. And most of those are probably just one-night stands.

  I guarantee none of them were as complicated
as Luca and me.

  In the time since we’ve been apart, I’ve tried so damn hard to focus on fixing things with the Hawkes rather than dwelling on what I had and what I feel for the man who caused so much discontent.

  “What can I get for you?”

  “A beer sounds good, but I’m going to need something stronger tonight. Ardbeg.”

  He nods his head back toward the wall of alcohol. “You want the good stuff?”

  One of the bottles up there is a twenty-two-year single malt. It will hurt my wallet, but it will taste amazing and give me exactly what I need tonight. A way to escape my own head.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Neat?”

  I nod. “Is there any other way?”

  He chuckles as he grabs a glass and pours the amber liquid into it. Far more than he should.

  “That’s a pretty generous pour.”

  He grins at me. “You look like you could use it.”

  Isn’t that the truth?

  Coming clean to everyone about what had been going on with Luca and me wasn’t easy, and the reception I got wasn’t one-hundred percent honest.

  They know me. They trust me. They don’t want to lose me as an employee. They don’t want to say or do anything that’s going to set me off to potentially leave them. But at the same time, they’re clearly lying about how they feel about the situation. No matter how much they say I mean to them, I betrayed them. Simple. That’s not something someone gets over right away. So, things have been nothing but strained between all of us since I revealed what happened.

  Even the opening of THREE, which should have been a beautiful event, was tainted by my betrayal. I couldn’t even bring myself to go because of the tension still there. I didn’t want to ruin their joy, their way of starting fresh, by being there and reminding them of the Abellos.

  I raise my glass to my lips and take a sip of the smoky liquid. The flavors dance across my tongue and burn my throat. Pool balls crack behind me, and I look over my shoulder. A younger guy leans over the table with his cue to lineup the next shot as an older gentleman stands behind him, admiring his very tight jeans.

  I can’t help the tiny grin that plays at the corners of my mouth.

  The younger guy knows exactly what he’s doing. He wiggles his butt farther out toward the older man, intentionally rubbing against him. The older man leans down over him and whispers something into his ear that has the younger man turning red before totally flubbing his shot. The older man laughs, smacks him on the ass, and walks around to take his turn.

  My bartender friend laughs. “Those two have been together for a year and still joke around like they’re damn newlyweds or something.”

  Having something like that, a partner, someone to come home to every night, is something I never thought was possible when I left Salt Lake City, but lately, I find myself craving it more and more.

  Too bad it can never be with the man I want. Not when that means choosing between the Hawkes and him.

  I drop my elbows down onto the bar top and swirl my drink while I stare into it. The door to the place opens and closes across the room behind me, and the bartender taps me on the arm.

  “What?” I crane my head around, and my eyes meet familiar dark ones.

  Luca. What the hell is he doing here?

  He can’t be seen in this place. Now that the article has been published, everyone is going to recognize him.

  The bartender leans down to me. “You know, if I had known who he was then, I probably would’ve watched what I was saying a little bit more carefully.”

  No shit.

  Luca pulls out the stool next to me, the same one where he sat that night. He nods at the bartender. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

  “How do you know it’s up to your standards?” The words come out a little harsher than I intend, but he’s the last person I need to see right now. Not when he’s the only one I want to see and know I shouldn’t.

  He barks out a laugh and leans in until his lips brush my ear. “Because I know you have excellent taste.”

  His warm breath fluttering over my skin has my cock stirring to life for him. Memories of him have been the only thing that have managed to accomplish that since the night he left my place. The night I kicked him out and ended things.

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “According to whom?”

  The Hawkes think I have about the worst taste in men possible. Of all the gay men in the city, the one I fall for has to be Luca Abello.

  Fuck me.

  I toss back the last of my drink as the bartender sets Luca’s in front of him. “What are you doing here? You know this is really dangerous.”

  Luca lets his shoulders rise and fall as he brings the glass to his lips and sips it. “My entire life is dangerous, and I needed to talk to you.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. This cannot happen. Not anymore.”

  One dark eyebrow rises at me. “That really what you want?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want anymore.”

  It never has.

  “That’s a pretty shitty way to live your life. Making other people happy at your own expense.”

  “Maybe it’s true, but Hawkes aren’t just people. They’re my family.”

  He considers me for a moment. “If they’re really your family, they should support you no matter who you’re with.”

  I growl and turn toward him. “That’s not fair. There’s a history.”

  “Not with me. Everyone needs to stop confusing what my father did with what I’m doing. I’m not him.” He takes a sip of his drink and nods toward my empty glass. “You going to have another one?”

  I shake my head and slide off the stool. I grab my wallet and toss a hundred bucks on the bar top for the bartender.

  He walks back over to us and looks down. “That’s too much.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I gotta take off.”

  “So, you’re running from me now?”

  I scoff and throw up my hands. “What the hell do you want me to do, Luca?”

  He turns on the stool to face me. “I want you to be a fucking man and take what you want.”

  “Fuck you.” I storm across the bar and let the door slam shut behind me. The cooling night air doesn’t help the blistering heat tightening my skin or the anger rising in my blood.

  Luca Abello can go fuck himself.

  It probably makes me a really sick fuck to get turned on so much by seeing Byron so upset. It’s not his distress, though. It’s the fire in him, the passion…probably because I know what he can do with that under other circumstances.

  Coming here was stupid. I knew it when I got the call from my man who has been following Byron since Castillo dropped the threat on my desk. But when I heard Byron was at The Back Pocket, I couldn’t resist the chance to see him, the opportunity to reconnect at the place we first met. When I was Steele and he was just a hot guy at a bar.

  I never intended to argue with him again, the same argument we’ve had a dozen times. But I couldn’t bite my tongue, not with him sitting right there next to me.

  I grab a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet, toss it on the bar top, take one more sip and make my way across the bar, past a couple playing pool who watch me with interest, and out the door after Byron.

  Footsteps echo down the alley at the side of the building that leads to the parking lot. I rush around the corner to catch up with him. I’m not letting him get away this time. Not unless he can tell me to my face that I am not what he wants.

  “Byron, wait.”

  He stops and freezes before he turns to look over his shoulder. I take the final steps between us.

  He turns slowly to face me. “Don’t do this, Luca. It’s a waste of time and energy on both our parts.”

  “Is it?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I don’t feel like it is. You need to be able to compartmentalize things better.”

  He throws up his hands and scoffs. “Compartmentalize? Jesus, you
have no fucking clue, do you? I suffered just as much as the Hawkes with what your father did. Ben was my friend. So was Caleb. He killed them, destroyed the club, not to mention what he did to Stone. That trauma has fucked him up so badly, who knows if he’ll ever fully recover from it.”

  I cringe at his words. Because he’s right. Dom did destroy their lives and Stone’s at a very young age. It could’ve been me. Had I shown any interest in joining the family business back then, and if he hadn’t suspected I was gay, that would have been me in that warehouse with Dom. Me with the gun in my hand. Me firing the shot that sent the Hawkes’ and Erikssons’ worlds into a spiral.

  Ironic that I consider myself lucky to have made it without that kind of trauma as a child, yet I went and willingly put myself into it as an adult. Maybe not the slickest move. But it is what it is. It’s my reality, and I can’t get out of it now without risking more than my life.

  And I can’t walk away from the man in front of me without losing something even more important. He needs to know that before he closes the final door on us.

  Byron stares at me, his hands hanging limply at his sides. He shakes his head. “This thing between us,” he motions between us, “it’s bad for both of us. I’m going to lose my friends, and you could potentially lose your life if anyone found out.”

  We both could, but that’s true regardless if we’re together or not, which is why I’ve had security on him non-stop.

  I shrug. “Some things are more important.”

  He scoffs. “What’s more important than your life?”

  You!

  The word is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t manage to say it. Not now. We barely know each other in the grand scheme of things, yet it was the first word that came into my mind, the first thing in my heart when he asked the question.

  I close the distance between us and grab the front of his shirt to jerk him against me before I press my lips to his in a brutal kiss. One I hope answers his question. His hands come up to hold my face, and he returns the kiss. My heart soars. He’s not pushing me away. At least, not yet, but I steel myself for the potential of just that while I savor the familiar taste of his lips and tongue.