Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (Hawke Family #1)(4)

I pick up the phone and press the extension for the downstairs bar, waiting impatiently as it rings several times. “Yep,” Byron answers, slightly out of breath.

“A very angry, very beautiful blonde is on her way down from my office. She’s looking for her sister, Nora Eriksson.”

“Your office? Shit. I’m sorry, Savage. I stepped out back to take care of a delivery. She must have slipped in when I was gone. I’ll take care of it.”

As much as I want to ream him out for letting someone get up here unannounced, I know he was busy out back and it really isn’t his fault. It does get me wondering about better security, though. I thought we had things covered—Gabe is kind of an expert when it comes assuring things are locked down—but if a woman like that can waltz right up here, so can anyone else.

“Please do, and track down Nora if she isn’t here. See if she can come in and meet with me as soon as possible.” I drop the phone back into the cradle and relax back into my chair.

My cock is still pressing uncomfortably against my jeans, but there isn’t anything I can do about it now. So, I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and make my best attempt to center myself.

Deep breaths, Savage. Deep, cleansing breaths.

There’s work to be done, phone calls that need to be made…

“What the hell was that all about?” Gabe struts into my office and drops unceremoniously into one of the leather arm chairs facing me. “Was she here for a job? Please tell me you hired that fine piece of ass!”

His lecherous grin makes me smile despite my disgust at his constant dehumanization of females.

“No, sorry, Gabe, she wasn’t here for a job interview. She was here to tell me off because I hired her sister, Nora Eriksson.”

Gabe’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. “That is Nora’s sister?”

I nod and he chuckles, dropping his head against the back of the chair.

“You know what she does, right?” he asks.

“No, should I?”

He pulls his head up and gives me a look I’ve seen way too many times over the last twenty-plus years of our friendship—the “you’re a fucking moron” look.

“Should I?”

His grin tells me I may be in more trouble than I realized.

“Uh, yeah, man. She’s a goddamn investigative reporter for the Times. If you cross her, you’re liable to end up being the cover story.”

Shit.

I knew she looked familiar for some reason. I’ve seen her photo at the top of her column every fucking morning.

“Fuck, you’re right…but I don’t think she was here for a story. This was personal. This was about her sister. I gathered that the last thing she would want is for the world to find out her little sister is now a stripper.”

Gabe barks out a laugh. “Why do you say that with such disdain? You own the place, Savage. You employ these strippers.”

“That doesn’t mean I would necessarily want any of my baby sisters doing it.”

That gets Gabe absolutely rolling, doubling over in the chair and wiping tears from his eyes. “God, I can just imagine if Storm or Skye tried to become a dancer. You would completely lose your shit.”

I glare at him. “Not funny. Stop picturing my baby sisters in thongs, you pervert.”

“They are hardly babies anymore, Savage. They’re what, twenty-seven and twenty-nine? Storm is married and has a child, for Christ’s sake.”

Not the fucking point!

My big-brother blood boils and, if Gabe weren’t basically my other half, I might act on my urge to punch him in the fucking jaw. I love the guy, but he should know better when it comes to the Hawke girls.

“Still, you’re practically family, and they will always be my baby sisters, so, just stop.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he relents, standing and stretching out, the tips of his fingers almost hitting the ceiling. “You ready to get outta here for the day?”

“No, I asked Byron to try to get ahold of Nora. I want to talk to her and make sure nothing else is going on. Her sister seems to genuinely think she wouldn’t be here unless it was because of some sort of outside forces.”

Gabe looks concerned for the first time since he entered my office.

“You think Byron missed something in the interview?”

“I doubt it,” I reply, shaking my head, “but I have to ask, just to ease my own mind.”

He shrugs. “All right, just let me know when you’re ready to bail.” He disappears out the door, tossing a half-wave over his shoulder before closing it behind him.

I return to the paperwork on my desk and try to lose myself in the numbers and contracts in front of me. At least my dick has finally calmed down.

My reaction to Danika unnerves me yet has me considering things I haven’t thought about in a very fucking long time. If I spend any more time thinking about her, I won’t get anything done today. I try my best to push her to the back of my mind.

After an hour of phone calls and staring at the tiny print in these one hundred-page contracts, my head pounds and my eyes are starting to burn.

A soft knock at the door finally breaks the concentration I managed to find. I look up.

“Come in.” I drop the papers in my hand onto the pile accumulating on my desk and decide that, no matter what, I’ll head home as soon as whoever this is leaves. I am fucking exhausted.