Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a guy. That means I’ll always be right.”
His laugh completed her day. “Yeah.”
He bent his head to nibble on her neck, making her sigh. “I like how you smell.”
Thank you, Frankie.
She ran her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of his body on top of hers, something she’d never thought she’d have again.
Braced on one elbow, he stroked the hair from her face and smiled down at her. When the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled, she stared up at him. He looked…happy.
She’d made him happy, and without thinking, she whispered the words that she’d barely thought. “I love you.”
Shock bloomed in his eyes. “Kit.”
An apology sprang to her lips, but she held it in. Welcome or not, it was how she felt. She wouldn’t apologize for her own feelings.
He shook his head as if to say no—or that he didn’t believe her. “That isn’t—” He stopped at the sound of light footsteps downstairs.
Kit gasped. “It’s Aric.”
“Hell.” Hawk rolled off the bed.
Snatching up her clothing, Kit ran into the bathroom to dress.
A minute later, she heard the door open, and Hawk called, “Kid, what you got there—cookies?”
“I did blue,” Aric piped.
“I’ll come down,” Hawk said. The door closed, and his voice grew fainter. “I need a blue cookie.”
By the time she got downstairs, Aric was coloring at the island. Frosting streaked his face, and his fingers were blue.
She’d heard the outside door close as she’d left the bedroom. A glance through the windows showed Hawk had just left and was striding across the courtyard to his own place.
An ache set up residence in her heart.
Hawk took his troubles out onto the lake.
“I love you,” she’d said. Had to be the most beautiful melody in the world. One that drifted through his head over and over as the kayak skimmed over the water.
He paddled faster until cold drops of water sprayed over his face.
But he couldn’t escape the words, the surge of joy that’d hit, or the fucking rock-bottom realization that saying the words back would fuck them up.
He sure wasn’t the person she needed in her life. Not permanently.
He might be an okay husband; yeah, he’d do his damndest to make sure he was, but a father?
Love couldn’t fix everything.
Lifting the paddle, he let the kayak drift and listened to the soft hiss of the bow cutting water.
Near the bank, the trumpeter swans, Han and Leia, with four half-pint gray cygnets watched warily. The thought of Aric looking at him that way was a knife in the gut.
Never.
It hadn’t been that hard to take care of a quiet, timid boy. But as Aric got past the shit that’d happened with the PZs, he’d return to being a typical noisy, mouthy boy.
Kids pissed off their parents—that was just a fact of life.
Hawk traced the scar that ran down his cheek. Another fact was that children became their parents—and his father had been a monster. An abusive asshole.
That weakness was inside Hawk, just waiting for a chance to get out.
No, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—risk it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. ~ Ernest Hemingway
“The Prophet is dead, Captain.”
“No.” Rage swept through Nabera, and he shouted into the phone. “No!”
In the house, the handful of loyal followers living there turned to stare at him.
It couldn’t be true. It mustn’t. He yanked in a breath and evened out his voice. “Tell me what happened.”
Ezekiel worked in the Texas State Capitol building in Austin and got the news about their leader before anyone else. “A bunch of convicts started a fight, and somehow, Reverend Parrish got knocked over. The guards broke the fight up and found him on the floor. He’d been shanked. Bad. He died on the way to the hospital.”
“Why would anyone hurt our prophet?” Nabera dropped onto a chair, grief a hard knot within him. He’d followed the Reverend since the day they met years ago.
“Captain.” There was a pause, then Ezekiel cleared his throat. “The guards found no witnesses, but they think…”
“Spit it out, damn you,” Nabera snapped.
“Two of the prisoners are brothers to a woman who was in our Texas compound. They might have, uh, had a grudge. Because of her. They were in the fight.”
“They did it.” Anger raged in Nabera.
“Nobody saw anything. But seems the reverend hadn’t annoyed anyone—not enough for a murder. So, yeah, one of the brothers probably stabbed him.”
“Because of a woman.” Once again, it was a cunt at the heart of their problems. It started when Obadiah brought Kirsten into their midst. Like a serpent, she’d poisoned everything around her.
Now another traitorous bitch had spread her lies. “Women are to blame for our Prophet’s death.”
“Our Reverend is dead?” Shocked voices rose, and within minutes, there was not only grief, but fear enough to thicken the air.
Nabera pulled himself together. Parrish would expect him to be decisive. “Thank you for letting me know, Ezekiel. Will you and our Texas Zealots be all right?”
“Eh, when the Reverend was arrested and the cops descended on the compound, we went to ground. And now…”
“What?”
“I’m done, Captain. I felt I owed you the call, but I’m out.”
How many of the faithful would feel the same?
Grief mingled with fury, and Nabera was glad he had the phone pressed tightly enough to his ear that no one in the room heard how the weakling was fleeing with the other rats. Jumping off a sinking ship.
He pocketed his phone, frustration growing. He couldn’t let them leave yet. Parrish had been more than his prophet; he’d been a friend.
Cowards. If he didn’t act, the patriots here would also abandon the cause.
And he’d let them…after they did one last thing for the Prophet.
His voice came out as hard and cold as the glaciers on the mountain peaks. “My people, one woman caused the disasters that have happened. One disloyal, unnatural slut. She’s probably laughing at what she’s accomplished. Laughing at us.”
The angry expressions around him mirrored his own. “She must pay for what she’s done.”
Their faith called for vengeance. For action.
For blood and death.
On Wednesday, Hawk drove into town, still out of sorts. Nightmares had kept him awake, then he’d spent the morning and afternoon in his floatplane, and nothing had gone right. Landing on a lake, he’d almost run into a submerged log. He’d flown a guy and his injured dog out and to a veterinarian, and the poor lab’s pained whining had twisted Hawk’s gut. Then two climbers showed up an hour late, and he’d had to throttle his anger and remind himself that strangling customers might have consequences.
Pity, that.
Now, despite his plan to avoid Kit and Aric until he found the right words to tell her his decision, he’d been railroaded into this task. The Hermitage gang were grilling the salmon Audrey and Gabe had caught early this morning. Since Hawk wasn’t cooking, JJ had asked him to pick up the kids at summer school.