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CHAPTER SEVEN

HAWK

T hane Hawkins double-checked his fly as he strode down the hallway, making sure his clothing was back in place.

It would be bad if he had misbuttoned his shirt or left his fly down or had a sticky note stuck to his ass from his lunchtime interlude with his wife.

Archer would never let him hear the end of it.

Neither would any of the other members of the Society’s security team, and he did not need that kind of endless ribbing in his life.

He turned left, entering Archer Gray’s outer office. He dropped the paperwork onto the desk of the assistant to the head of the Society and pointed to Archer’s closed door, as if to ask is he in? She nodded, and then Hawk strode past her desk and into his boss’s office.

“We have a problem,” he said without preamble, taking a seat across the desk from the man himself.

Archer cocked an eyebrow. “Please take a seat,” he murmured. “Make yourself at home.”

Hawk sent him a look. Most of the members of the Lock and Key Society were terrified of Archer Gray, but after working for Jameson Drake for a lot of years, and before that being a Navy SEAL, Hawk found that very few things scared him in life.

Austin Davis might just rank up there on the list of things that did cause worry to prickle the little hairs on his neck.

“Okay. Go…” Archer invited, then leaned back in his chair, his green eyes fastening on Hawk’s face.

“Gage Callahan is being set up for breaking into the Met Museum.” He was a bit surprised that Archer didn’t bolt upright in his seat. But then again, this was Archer, a man with cast-iron balls.

“Interesting. I assume Alex Buchanan was really the culprit then?”

Hawk nodded. “That’s my assumption as well.

But the real issue is that Austin Davis is apparently the person who leaned on the D.A.

’s office and got them to execute a search warrant on Gage’s apartment.

Gage was taken to the precinct in cuffs.

” Poor bastard’s door had been busted open at Oh-Dark-Thirty this morning, a fate Hawk never wanted to face.

“Logan got him out, but Davis was definitely the man pulling the strings.”

Archer’s gaze turned cold. Hawk recognized the look, and he knew it was the same look he got when he’d been on a kill mission.

Archer’s nostrils flared. “That man is the bane of my existence. I should have let Ryker kill him last year, to hell with the President.”

“We owe the Callahans.”

Archer nodded. “We do.”

Hawk continued, “I want to talk to Davis. Remy thinks that Davis probably did it as a favor to someone. Anything to get back in someone’s good graces.”

Archer nodded slowly. “It’s as good a reason as any. I can’t imagine he cares about an ugly little statue that’s practically worthless.”

Hawk was not surprised that Archer already knew about the object that had gone missing from the Met. This man was deeply connected within the gray area of the world. “Is that what was stolen?”

“Yes,” Archer confirmed. “My sources tell me it has very little value and it was stored in the room where donated items the museum doesn’t want go to die.”

“I see. Regardless…” He paused. “Wait. Why the hell would anyone want to steal that?”

Archer shook his head. “No idea. Ask Alex Buchanan.”

Hawk shook his head. “No thanks. Sometimes it’s best not to know these things.”

A smile of amusement lit Archer’s face. “This coming from the man who works for a secret society.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, you may approach Davis about it, but do not kill him.”

“Is death the only thing off the table?” Hawk asked. “Just want to know my limits.”

Archer gave him a level stare. “Do what you need to get what you want, but do not end his life.”

“Deal.” Hawk stood. “I reviewed the documents and gave them to your assistant with my suggestions for changes. Let me know your thoughts.”

Hawk could have waited for a reply, but Archer had already turned his attention back to the papers on his desk. No sense in delaying his exit.

Hawk returned to his own office and then pulled up the application on his computer that indicated where all the members of the Society were located at that moment.

They were not required to report in, but most members kept the Society abreast of their locations.

The Society was not responsible for their security but if they were in trouble, it didn’t hurt to inform Archer.

Sometimes he would send help. Sometimes not. It depended on the trouble.

Davis was in town. That was a start. Presumably, he was in Manhattan.

Hawk sat back and thought for a second. If I were Davis, where would I stay?

There were quite a few high-end hotels in NYC, but only a handful would be in the running for Davis.

He wanted some visibility as well as some discretion.

He needed to be seen, but also needed to move around unnoticed if he chose.

Hawk snorted. There was only one choice, really.

He would stay at the Jasmine Door. Damn good thing Hawk’s former boss, Jameson Drake, owned the hotel chain.

He picked up his cell and made a few calls and determined that Davis was in the Central Park Suite at the Jasmine Door.

And, in a stroke of good fortune, he was currently in his suite.

Hawk got up from his desk, and twenty minutes later, was walking through the lobby of the hotel.

“Hawk,” a voice called out.

Hawk spun around to look and saw his former employer. A smile spread on his face as he strode across the lobby and shook Drake’s hand. “Good to see you.” He turned and greeted Jake Boxer as well. “What are you doing in town?”

Jake grinned. “Filling in. It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too. Happy to be in the field?” he asked. “This guy can be a demanding boss.”

Jake nodded. “It’s a nice change. Too much paperwork kills the excitement.”

“I hear that. I feel the same way,” Hawk said. “Drake, you’re looking well. How’s Spencer?”

“She’s good. Busy.”

“I’m sure,” Hawk said.

“I hear you’ve been inquiring about Davis. Need to speak to him?” Drake’s lip curled as he said the name.

“Unfortunately. He seems to be behind Gage Callahan almost being arrested.”

“Arrested?” Drake said, his eyes narrowing. “For what, in God’s name?”

“Oh, shit,” Jake growled. “This has to do with the Met heist, doesn’t it?”

“What Met heist?” Drake’s brows rose, and then understanding lit his face. “Alex.” He glanced around the lobby. “Let’s go into the manager’s office so you can fill us in.”

Hawk glanced at his watch. “Sure, but can you have someone let me know if Davis tries to leave?”

Drake nodded. He hurried across the lobby, something Hawk never thought he’d see, and said something to one of the women behind the desk.

He gestured to Hawk, then pointed to the manager’s office.

He met Hawk and Jake near the door, then they all entered the inner sanctum and shut themselves inside.

Drake sat behind the desk and motioned for Hawk to speak.

“I should’ve known something was up when Mitch asked me about Drake’s whereabouts last night,” Jake commented first, as he sat down.

Hawk shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that. All I’ve learned I got from Remy, who spoke to Lacy a while ago.” He proceeded to fill both men in.

“So, Davis made the call,” Drake reaffirmed.

“Yes.” Hawk stood. “And now I have to go down and figure out what the hell is going on and who is really behind it.”

Drake also stood. “Let me know what you find out. I’ll reach out to Mitch and Gage and see if there’s anything I can do.”

Hawk nodded and strolled over to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned to Drake and Jake. “One thing you can do is ignore any complaints you might get of a man screaming in the Central Park Suite.”

“Will do,” Drake chuckled.

“Let me know if you need any help,” Jake offered. “Been a while since I broke some bones. And I’d love my refresher course to be Davis’s fingers,”

Hawk grinned and nodded. “Absolutely.”

A few minutes later, he arrived outside Davis’s suite. He knocked on the door and listened as footsteps approached. The door swung wide and Austin’s assistant, Floyd Armstrong, stood there. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“To see your boss.”

“He’s busy,” the other man said and started to close the door.

Hawk took a step forward and slammed against the door.

Armstrong wasn’t expecting it and stumbled backward. “What the hell,” he demanded.

“Like I said, I’m here to see your boss.” Hawk strode into the suite and found Austin Davis sitting on the couch in front of massive floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park. He was on the phone.

“Hang up,” Hawk said as he sat down in a chair across from Davis.

Davis frowned and turned to glare at Armstrong, who had followed Hawk into the room. He gestured toward Hawk with his chin and nodded toward the door. Davis was trying to get rid of him.

“You need to leave,” Armstrong said in a quiet voice, but his tone was clear; they weren’t asking. They were telling.

Hawk didn’t give a shit. This cocksucker and his cronies were assholes of the first order. They’d done unspeakable things and gotten people killed. It was only because the President insisted they keep him alive that he was still breathing. But that didn’t mean that breath had to be pain free.

“Get. Off. The. Phone,” Hawk barked in a loud voice completely ignoring the pissant assistant.

Davis glared at him and then stood. He started around the couch as if he was going to leave the room. Hawk started forward but Armstrong blocked his path. “You need to leave before I call security.”

“Security won’t answer your call,” he informed the other man. “Davis,” he growled, “we need to talk now.”