Page 46 of Restless Hawke

Tommy’s eyes widen slightly at me.

Guess he wasn’t expecting me to come home…

Given how long I’ve been MIA and that I never told anyone I was coming, it makes sense he’s surprised.

But someone knew.

The same way they found me in Monaco and knew I was in Macau.

He points toward the elevator, telling me what I already know.

Everyone is upstairs.

Since the second they were alerted that I boarded that plane in Macau to head back here, they’ve been waiting for this moment—the showdown I’ve been avoiding for the past month.

There is no way to dodge it any longer.

I bought myself a minor reprieve when Luca showed up and demanded I return, when I somehow convinced him that I had to stay and continue what I was doing, but it couldn’t go on forever.

We all knew I’d have to come back

It just took me a while to accept it.

And as restless as I’ve always been, unable to commit to one job or one place, somehow coming home, stepping off that plane and smelling the New Orleans air, driving to the club past the same buildings and spots that have been here my entire life, the anxiety I had eased somewhat.

Until I walked in here.

Now that dread has settled back heavily on my shoulders, knowing what’s waiting for me.

I don’t take the elevator, despite that being much easier. It would also be faster, and I’m not in any rush to get this going. Instead, I slam my hand onto the metal bar across the stairwell door and start climbing.

Tread after tread.

Up and up.

That bass shaking each one under my feet.

It gives me a few extra moments to prepare myself for what I’m about to face, which I desperately need because there’s no question it’s going to be unpleasant.

The cars lined up outside in our private parking area confirm it. Not only are Uncle Savage, Dad, and Gabe waiting, but Saint is also here.

And God knows who else may have ridden with any of them.

I’m walking into an ambush, but at least I know it and had a very long flight to prepare myself mentally for the showdown. Or at least, to attempt it.

My thoughts kept drifting away from what I should have been focusing on and to the woman I left in that restaurant. And she should be the furthest thing from my thoughts, especially right now.

I make it to the second floor, step into the hallway, and the rumble of familiar voices floats down from Savage’s office.

Each step I take draws me closer to facing the consequences of my fuckup in the worst way.

As if having to tell Atlas what I did that night wasn’t bad enough…

As if telling them wasn’t one of the worst moments of my life…

I went and made it worse.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I approach the open door, feeling more like I am walking the plank for my crime than about to see the people closest to me.