Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (Hawke Family #1)(41)

“I know you are, Paul. But you are also doing it for yourself and you know it. You need Abello gone before you will ever be able to walk away, so don’t pretend this is altruistic. Just be careful and get me the info as soon as possible. The sooner this is over, the better it is for both of us.”

His glare bores into me, but I don’t look away. He huffs and reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigarette box. “I’ll see what I can do,” he mumbles as he ambles away from me, lighting up a fresh stick as he goes.

A week. I just need to wait a week and I should have what I need…from Paul, at least.





“Wow, it’s HUGE!”

Dani’s jaw hangs open and she turns in a circle to take in all of Minute Maid Park. The drive to Houston took over five hours, but it didn’t seem that long in the back of the limo. We made good use of the time. When Dani told me she’d never been to a MLB game, I couldn’t resist, even with the distance.

“It is, but there are actually parks that are a lot bigger. This only holds about forty-two thousand. Dodger Stadium holds over fifty-six thousand.”

She turns to me and grins. “This is awesome. Thanks so much for bringing me.”

“Anytime,” I reply with a wink. “Let’s get to our seats before the first pitch.” She follows me over to the handicapped seating area behind and just to the left of home plate and settles into her chair.

I haven’t been to a major league game in probably five years. I forgot how much I enjoyed the energy of the crowd. Baseball had been my mother’s response to my discontent with not being allowed to box anymore after my dad died. And while I never loved it the way I did boxing, there’s a familiar feeling of euphoria from being in the stadium.

Dani’s knee bounces up and down as she looks around the park and the field. The pitcher is on the mound throwing a few pitches to the catcher while the rest of the team is stretching and throwing around a ball for warm-ups. The smell of popcorn and hotdogs is mouth-watering, but all I can think about is how incredible Dani tastes.

The memory of licking my fingers after getting her off in the limo on the way here is crystal clear and I can still taste her on my tongue. My cock twitches in my pants and, for once, I’m thankful I’m sitting down and my inappropriately-timed hard-on isn’t noticeable to the families wandering around the ballpark.

I can’t help it. I can’t get enough of her.

She reaches down and grabs the bag from the gift shop, rifling through it until she finds the Astros hat I bought her. She pulls it down over her long hair and turns to me.

Damn. It’s ridiculous how hot she looks in that.

“How do I look?”

A grin spreads across my face and I reach out and cup her cheek, urging her to lean in closer to me. “Fucking adorable, actually.” I kiss her gently. She smiles against my lips.

She pulls away slightly and offers me a coy smile. “Oh, really? Then maybe I should wear hats more often?”

I take her hand in mine and squeeze it. “That would hardly be fair.”

“Oh, why not?”

“Because I already have a hard time controlling myself around you. If you become any more adorable, I will be in serious fucking trouble.”

She laughs and grins at me. “Good answer.”

Christ, how can I be this obsessed with this woman?

The last week has been a whirlwind. We’ve both been really busy, but we managed to see each other on Tuesday night and have talked on the phone every night we weren’t together. Well, maybe “talking” isn’t the right word because, God knows, our chats haven’t exactly been PG.

The start of the National Anthem alerts me that it’s time to stop daydreaming about Dani and pay attention to what’s going on around me. She stands, pulling off her hat and putting it over her heart.

I don’t know what I expected to hear, but when she starts singing, I can barely stop myself from laughing. She is truly and utterly awful. There isn’t a single note sung on key and yet she plows on, at the top of her lungs.

And fuck if it doesn’t make me want her more.

She doesn’t care about what anyone thinks, not one single iota. In fact, I’m pretty sure if anyone said anything to her about her lack of vocal skills, she’d probably have some witty retort about how she has other oral talents.

What I wouldn’t give to have those talents used on me.

It’s not from her lack of trying. On Tuesday, when she was over, I managed to avoid the situation completely by just making her come repeatedly. If I never gave her reprieve, she couldn’t put me in a position to have Deflate Gate again.

She didn’t seem to mind. The constant stream of moans, cries, and grunts as she came all over my face let me know I’m at least doing that right.

The anthem ends and she sits back down and glances over at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why do you have that shit-eating grin on your face?”

Apparently, I suck at hiding my reaction to her—on my face or in my pants.

“I was just thinking about Tuesday.”

She blushes and the corners of her mouth tip up as she squirms in her seat.

Yeah, she’s definitely thinking about it now.

I want her remembering how hot it was. It helps distract from the fact I haven’t let her touch me. I just need to get my head in the game and be mentally prepared for it next time.