Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (Hawke Family #1)(72)

I spin around and find her at the door again, a grin on her face. “I busted through my work like a madwoman so we could get out of here.”

“Crap. Caroline…”

Shaking her head, she steps into my office, hands on her hips. “Oh, hell no, you are not bailing on me tonight.”

I sigh, running my hands back through my hair. I know this is going to be a fight no matter what I say. She still isn’t completely over what happened at the club, and even though we smoothed things over after the blowup, we are still on a bit of shaky ground right now. “Savage sent me a text. He wants me to come over so we can talk.”

Her anger-laden face relaxes slightly, and she drops her arms to her sides and mumbles something to herself. “You know how I feel about this whole situation with Savage, but you need to talk to him, so go. I’m not mad.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she says, stepping into me and wrapping her arms around me in a much-needed, comforting hug, “you need to sort your shit out with him, and it needs to happen sooner rather than later, for all our sanity’s sakes.”

I grin against her shoulder and squeeze her tight. “Thanks, Caroline. I owe you a night out.”

“You do.” She pulls away and grins at me. “Now go sort out the clusterfuck that is your relationship.”

“I need to finish some quick edits, and then my ass is outta here.”

“Get ‘er done!” she yells as she walks out the door.

That went better than expected. I return to my desk and quickly set to work on the edits. I’m racing through them like a madwoman, desperately trying to appease my editor while my mind is one hundred percent on Savage, not my work.

I get them done in record time and, just as I am shutting my computer down, my phone rings. I grab it, thinking it is probably Savage, but I see a “No Caller Info” message flash across the screen.

It isn’t unusual for me to get calls from blocked numbers. Most of my sources don’t want their identities revealed, and, even if they trust me not to reveal them, there’s always the risk of my phone records being subpoenaed and inadvertently outing them.

“Hello?”

I hear rustling on the other end, but no answer.

“Hello?” I ask again.

“Danika, it’s Paul. I need to see you.”

“Paul! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking for you for weeks. Is everything okay?”

I’ve searched high and low for him, using every contact I have to try to determine if he was still with Abello, left town, or checked out permanently. If he got caught, we both knew he would pay with his life. Abello wasn’t someone who knew the meaning of the word “forgiveness.”

“I’m fine, I just had to lay low for a while. I got what you need. Meet me at the Olde Market.”

“Shit, right now?” I begin haphazardly throwing stuff into my purse.

“Yes, right now. I’ll meet you in twenty.”

Click.

The line goes dead before I have a chance to respond.

Fuck, fuck, triple fuck!

I’m supposed to meet Savage in half an hour. I’ve been waiting weeks for him to say he wants to talk. But I’ve been hunting down this story for almost a year, and it could make my career.

I slide back into my chair and finish the last couple edits before quickly sending the final off to the print department. Then, I shut down my computer, grab my bag, and race out of my office.

When I pass Caroline’s office, I wave.

“Good luck with Savage tonight,” she calls, walking out into the hallway and following me down to the bank of elevators.

“Oh, thanks, girl, but I’m not going over until later.” I push the down button and wait anxiously for the car to come all the way up to the twenty-fifth floor to get me.

She recoils. “What? Why not? Why are you racing out of here like crazy then?”

“My contact on that big story just called. I need to go meet him.”

“Wait, the one who basically disappeared for weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, well, good luck!”

Ding. The doors slide open and I race in, pressing the lobby button and grinning at her.

“Thanks! This is going to be huge!” The doors slide closed and I begin my descent.

I grab my phone and pull up Savage’s number, hitting “Call” the second the doors open and I step into the lobby. It rings, and rings, and rings as I race across the shiny marble floor and out the revolving doors into the murky waning light of early evening.

“Come on, Savage, pick up.” I stop at the crosswalk and wait for the traffic signal so I can make it across Main Street to the parking structure.

“Hello, you have reached Savage Hawke. Leave a message.”

Shit. Why the hell isn’t he answering his phone?

“Savage, it’s me. I know I said I would be there by six, but something came up. I have to meet with someone first, but I will come over as soon as I’m done, I promise. I’ll call you when I am on my way. I can’t wait to see you.”

I climb into my car and peel out of the parking structure, making the twenty-minute drive to the Olde Market building in less than fifteen, despite the traffic. Good thing I didn’t see any cops along the way. I probably would have lost my license for reckless driving. The thought I might be finally getting the information I need to blow this story wide open has my heart and mind racing. Knowing I’ll also be seeing Savage tonight has my stomach churning. I have no idea what this means, but, good or bad, it needs to happen. Living in limbo is killing me.