Savage Collision: A Hawke Family Novel (Hawke Family #1)(6)
She turns and disappears out of my office, closing the door behind her.
At least she has some manners, something that apparently doesn’t run in the family.
The difference between the sisters is striking. Danika came in like a whirlwind—a finely dressed, heavily-attituded whirlwind—and let me have it. She wasn’t intimidated by me or by being on my turf. She stood her ground and managed to walk out with her head held high, despite the blush I caught more than once during our meeting. Nora, on the other hand, dances naked for a living, but dealt with me in a mild and respectful manner. She doesn’t possess the same fire as Danika; that much is clear.
Why the fuck am I attracted to the difficult one?
He presses his body against mine, chest to chest, and his hot breath fans my ear as he kisses his way up and down my neck. Large hands cup my ass and jerk me forward to meet his grinding hips, his massive erection pressing against my engorged clit, eliciting a moan from me against his cheek. I push myself even closer to him, pulling away from the wall. He growls and shoves me back, making it clear who is in control, and reaches one hand around to tear off my soaked panties, letting them fall to the floor.
“Please, Savage…” The words fall from my lips before I can stop them and I want to smack myself for sounding so needy and desperate. That is so not me. But I am on fucking fire! I need release like I need my next breath and he isn’t giving it to me. Instead, he’s teasing me, using his wicked mouth and body to push me to the brink of insanity.
“Hello? Earth to Danika?”
I jerk awake, almost falling out of my chair when Caroline grabs the back and spins it around to face her. “What the hell, girl?” She stares at me intently. “What is going on with you today? This is the third time you’ve totally zoned out since you came back from lunch.”
Since I came back from “lunch”—since I came back from seeing Savage fucking Hawke.
I’ve been a complete basket case all afternoon and I have only myself, and that man, to blame. Well, that’s not true. I can also blame Robert, my former fuck buddy who decided to up and move, leaving me utterly bereft and needy as hell.
It’s inhumane to leave a woman hanging like that. I always get like this when I don’t get laid. It’s been over a week—almost two. Twelve long, lonely, agonizing days, and now I can’t stop fantasizing about the first man I’ve been attracted to since Robert left.
Get your shit together, Eriksson. You have a job to do. Put your libido away until you get home and can spend some time with BOB or find someone else who can take your mind off Savage.
“I’m fine, Caroline, relax. I’m just distracted thinking about this story.” It isn’t a complete lie. I’ve been trying to nail Domenico Abello since I started this job almost four years ago, but all I’ve managed to do is meet with brick walls of silence.
Abello is dirty—the kind of dirty that makes Tony Soprano look like Mr. Clean.
Everyone knows his reputation, but I only recently got wind of some very unsettling information. Paul, my source, a low-ranking henchman of Abello’s, heard I had been asking around, trying to tie Abello to anything that could actually get him sent away. When he first approached me outside my apartment, I’ll admit, I thought I’d end up with a bullet in my head, but it turns out Paul wants out of the organization and he’s smart enough to know Abello won’t let him just walk away.
Paul confirmed something I’ve long suspected and feared—Abello doesn’t just control New Orleans’ underworld. He controls the government, too, through a seedy connection to Mayor Dunne.
Many of the people who stood in the way of Brian Dunne’s political advancement over the years have disappeared or been in questionable accidents. Once he reached office, a lot of his opposition seemed to back off quite unexpectedly from vehement resistance to certain projects. Quite a few contracts have also ended up going to businesses with hidden connections to Abello.
According to Paul, Dunne’s success is, in large part, due to this “assistance” from Abello. The only question is, can I prove it?
If I can verify and document that the head of the biggest crime syndicate in New Orleans has unsavory ties to the mayor, and has not only been receiving special consideration on projects in exchange for not even remotely legal favors, but may be going so far as to commit murder for Dunne, my career will be made.
“You still trying to get that source to get some documentation for you?”
“Yeah,” I say, spinning around to check my email, “he keeps hedging. I’ve only been able to get him to tell me about the shit he’s heard or seen, but no actual hard evidence of anything yet. No way I’m publishing this story until I have iron-clad documentation and the source’s allegations are backed up.”
Diligence is important in this business, and I won’t risk losing my job, or my reputation, on someone who may just have an axe to grind. Not that I really think that in this case.
“You don’t believe his story?”
Spinning back around to face her, I shake my head. “That’s just it, I do believe his story but there is no way I am putting my neck out there and exposing the people I plan to until I have everything I need.” It would be career suicide to publish a story like this without one hundred percent confirmation. It wouldn’t be fair to my source, either. I know he’s putting his neck on the line for me, with no benefit to him other than the potential opportunity to get out from under Abello’s thumb. I can’t risk his safety.