Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (Hawke Family #1)(73)

I pull up to the curb outside the Olde Market on Riverside which, appropriately enough, runs along the Mississippi River and used to house a bustling harbor. In the last ten years, the shipping business has migrated more to trucks than boats, and slowly, the businesses along the river have closed. The Olde Market used to be a busy fish and produce market. It was the best place in town to get fresh-caught seafood and had the freshest fruits and vegetables you could find. That ended four years ago, when it closed its doors for good. The building was pretty well known. The giant, red tomato on top of the warehouse used to light up and spin, making it visible from almost anywhere in town.

My dad used to bring Nora and me here every Saturday morning, if he wasn’t working. We would pick up what we needed for dinner that night. It was just Dad and us girls and I looked forward to it all week. Any time I spent with my father was special, but for some reason, leaving Mom at home and coming out here as a kid to meander among the stalls felt like something truly spectacular.

Looking at it now, you would never guess it used to have thousands of customers coming and going all week. The once clear and shining glass windows of the building are now all grimy and shattered. The infamous tomato is no longer lit or turning, its red facade covered in dirt and dust.

God, it’s depressing.

I glance at my phone. It’s almost six. Grabbing my purse, I climb out of the car and walk up to chain-link fence surrounding the property. Looking up and down the length of the fence, there doesn’t appear to be any opening to gain entry onto the property.

How the fuck does Paul expect me to get in there?

Continuing down the sidewalk to the south, I come across a portion of the fence pulled away from the pole enough for someone to slip through it.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I look down at my floaty, mid-thigh length dress covered by my trench coat, and my pumps, and curse Paul. If I tear this dress or break a heel, I will kill him, I don’t care how much I need this information.

The wire fencing pushes back easily and I slip through the opening. Managing to emerge unscathed, I check my phone to make sure I didn’t somehow miss a return call or text from Savage, but find nothing. I look around the vast parking lot, but nothing is moving except for a plastic bag blowing across the wasteland toward the dumpsters by the far corner of the building. At least it’s headed in the right direction.

Let’s make this quick.

I hurry across the parking lot toward the closest side of the building, where I can see a door is slightly ajar. As I approach, my phone begins to buzz in my hand and I look down to find Savage calling.

“Savage…”

Just as I answer, the door flies open and Paul grabs my arm, pulling me inside the building with a quick jerk. I almost drop my phone, and am about to tell Savage I can’t talk, when I see who else is in the building.

Slipping my phone into the pocket of my trench coat, I pray the call stayed connected and Savage can hear what’s going on.



“Hello? Danika?”

I just got out of the shower and found a message from her telling me she would be late. I don’t care, as long I get to see her, but I wanted to find out if she had already eaten or if I should have something ready for her, so I called her back right away.

Rustling noises and footsteps echo in the phone, but she isn’t responding.

“Ms. Eriksson, so nice of you to join us.” The male voice is somewhat muffled, but it’s familiar.

Who the fuck is that?

“What’s going on?” That voice I would know anywhere—Danika. She sounds muffled, too. Her phone must be in her purse or something.

I wonder if she knows it’s still connected?

“Don’t play dumb, Ms. Eriksson. It doesn’t suit you. You know precisely why we’re here.”

The voice, I know I recognize it. I’ve heard it before, and it’s dancing around in the back of my mind, just out of reach.

I listen, straining to hear anything else, but all I get is more rustling and garbled words.

“Get your fucking hands off me!”

My hand clenches around the phone. Dani. She’s in trouble. I press “Mute” and turn on speaker phone.

I head for the front door and race across the hall to Gabe’s.

“There’s no need to be so rude, Ms. Eriksson. We’re just here to have a little chat.”

Without knocking, I open the door and find him sitting at the kitchen counter, a spoon halfway up to his mouth. “What the fuck, dude?” He raises an eyebrow and drops the spoon into his bowl.

“Danika’s in trouble.” I set my phone on the counter next to him.

“Bullshit,” she says, her rage evident even through the muffled connection, “the people you have ‘friendly chats’ with are usually never seen again.”

Her words turn my blood to ice in my veins as I finally make the connection to the voice. Matteo Cortesi—Abello’s right-hand goon.

What the fuck is she doing with him?

“Shit, Gabe, she’s with Matteo Cortesi.”

Gabe shoves his stool back and drops his bowl into the sink. “Where is she?”

“I don’t fucking know. She said she had to meet someone before she came over here, and then I called her back and I heard she was in trouble.”

“Shit, do you think Caroline would know?”