Page 32 of Restless Hawke

“Are you fucking out of your mind?”

I wince and climb from the bed in nothing but my boxer briefs, stumbling slightly, still half-asleep and in the lingering grips of the dream. The wall of windows overlooking the vibrant, sparkling city of Macau draws me to it, and I rub the back of my neck with my free hand as I move over to it, loosening the tightness that has formed there when my body went into full-on panic mode during that nightmare.

This late, the entire world is abuzz—stunning, busy, beautiful. Cars whizzing past on the streets below, people bustling along the sidewalks, even people in the hotel pool, despite it being two a.m. here.

All the things I love so much about Macau…the vibrancy and life that explode here are the same reasons New Orleans will always live in my soul. It isn’t just because I’ve spent my entire life there; there’s just something about the city, the people, thelifethat exists only in those streets.

I could have gone home between Monaco and coming here, at least spent a few days in New Orleans and seen everyone, tried to explain, but they never would have let me leave again. They would have found a way to keep me there, keep me locked away for my “protection,” when what I’m doing is fortheirs.

Isaac’s frustration and anger are warranted, though, so I can’t let his response get to me.

“Hello to you, too, big brother…”

“Luca told us what you said.”

I rub at my temples and the headache slowly building between them. “I had no doubt that he would.”

His voice dips low, into that “lawyer” tone he takes when he’s trying to instill how important something he’s saying is. “You can’t play chicken with a man like Satriano, Coen.”

Gritting my teeth, I force out the reply I don’t want to admit. “I know that.”

“Doyou?” He releases a mirthless laugh. “I don’t think you do. You know, we would have given you the money to pay him back in an instant.”

I tighten my grip on my phone, swallowing back my inclination to snap at him for the suggestion. “First of all, he already made it very clear to Atlas and me that no one else could pay back my debt. And even if he had been willing to accept money from the Hawkes,Idon’t want to take anyone’s money. I dug this hole; I need to be the one to get out of it.”

He releases an annoyed sigh that fills the line with all his irritation. “Fine. Even if Icouldjustify you running around the world playing in these tournaments to try to pay back your debt, what you’ve agreed to after is going to get you killed.”

I cringe—both from the sincerity of his concern and the fact that he’s potentially right. Satriano could ask me to doanything. And I would be bound to do it, even if it means risking my life.

Still, I can’t dwell on that, nor can I agree to it. It would only give Isaac and the others more ammunition to shoot at me regarding why I shouldn’t have left.

“You don’t know that.”

Something slams on his end of the line, probably his fist on his desk. “I do. Have you forgotten who we’re dealing with here?”

Of course I haven’t.

All Ithinkabout is Satriano. About what he’s done. It even haunts me when I close my eyes and try to forget the world in sleep.

I would much rather embrace the dreams about Allegra that have been interspersed with the less pleasant ones. Dreams of having her in my arms again. Dreams of the way her mouth tasted. Dreams of her saying yes to my invitation and what could have resulted from it.

Those are few and far between, though.

And they’re not enough to shake this constant dark cloud that hangs over me.

Sighing, I wander to the bar and pour myself a double bourbon—though I have no desire to considerwhyI chose that instead of the Lagavulin sitting right next to it.

I take a sip as I lean against the couch, examining the opulent suite I’ve been comped for the tourney. Over the years, I’ve played so many times here—won and lost so much—that they always offer me the best. Yet tonight, it feels cold and empty, and I get no enjoyment from it like I normally would.

Because you want a specific someone to be here with you.

But even if she were, would it even be safe for her?

Can anyone be safe?

“I had to dosomething, Isaac.” My fingers tighten on my crystal tumbler. “You know he would have come for Atlas, and that would have put him, Wren, and the baby in jeopardy. Atlas did nothing wrong. I did by ever betting against him and putting him in the position for Satriano to ask him to fix the fight. If I hadn’t placed that bet against him, Satriano might never have pushed those odds and lost so much. It wasallbecause of me.Ifucked up?—”

“You’re right, you did. It was fucking stupid, Coen. No one’s going to argue with you about that. Did you hurt Atlas by betting against him? Abso-fucking-lutely. Did you bring Satriano down on us—again?Sure as shit right, you did.” Anger rises in his tone. “But thatdoesn’tmean we wanted you torun,especially straight to that man. It doesn’t mean we don’t want youhere.”