Page 53 of Altered By Lead (Undercover Sinners 2)
Fuck that's some heavy shit.The drive to ... wherever it is we're going ... is quiet, tense and uncomfortable. I keep sneaking glances over at Hawke, but he most definitely isn't doing the same for me. Actually, his gray eyes look glazed over, like he's on auto pilot or something, like his body is here but his mind is most definitely elsewhere.
"What does, uh," I try to remember the name of the company we work for and come up totally blank, "HQ want from us?"
"HQ?" Hawke asks, and this time, he finally flicks that mean-ass gaze of his in my direction. I lift a brow and cross my arms under my breasts with the sole intention of turning his blue balls a brilliant sapphire. By the time I'm done with him, he's going to be jizzing at the sight of a provocative swirl of leaves. "You've seen too many stupid ass movies. Just think of these guys like a manager at Wal-Mart. They think they have power, but they don't, not really. Only the CEO does."
"What's a Wal-Mart?" I quip, but I'm only half serious. I might've grown up privileged (economically speaking), but I'm not completely disconnected from society. Hawke doesn't even smile. Instead, he turns his attention back to the road and then reaches over to the radio to flick it on. The song is "Sit Still, Look Pretty" by Daya. I choke back a snort and Hawke's hands tighten even further on the wheel. "I bet you have this whole song memorized," I tease, just because I know it'll piss off his fragile masculinity. Still no response from him.
I decide I'm done pouring energy into his stone golem facade and turn toward the window. We take a creepy access road up the mountain, and it occurs to me yet again that if Hawke wanted me dead, he could very easily kill me and dump my body. Nobody would be looking for me; my corpse would never be found.
My tongue runs across my lower lip in nervousness, but when I said I wasn't afraid, I meant it.
He isn't going to kill me.
Hawke has too much of that 'lawful-good' sort of personality, like he thinks he can save the world by making hard choices.
We head even further up the hill and come around a sharp bend. As soon as we're past the trees, I can see it, this glorious lodge with rough-hewn log walls and smoke billowing from the chimney.
What the actual fuck?
"They stuck us in that falling down shack, and then hole up here?" I choke out, and Hawke grunts.
"We were offered accommodations here, but I turned them down."
My head snaps in his direction and my eyes go wide.
"Are you fucking insane!? I mean, we both know you are, but really?! I've been sleeping on a gross, lumpy mattress when I could've been living it up in luxury?"
Hawke stops the car at the bottom of the wide porch steps, a swing hanging from the rafters that's draped enticingly with blankets, just ready for a cup of tea and a good book. I'm practically drooling. I've never been much of a reader, but I feel like I could really get lost in another world right now. Mine isn't exactly the greatest.
"Exactly. Luxury. Luxury breeds lazy, useless recruits. The last thing any of you undisciplined assholes needed was somewhere to lounge. Now get the fuck out and don't embarrass me in here."
My nostrils flare as Hawke kicks open his door and pauses just once to slick his fingers through his short, brown hair. His gray eyes scan the three story building before he heads up the steps and does a hard-ass cop knock on the door. You know the kind, the one that scares the ever living shit of you when you're not expecting it.
But Janet clearly is.
She opens the door and gestures for Hawke to step inside, pausing and lifting a brow at me, still standing awkwardly next to the car. With a deep breath, I lift my chin and head up the steps to join them in the massive foyer. There's a huge chandelier above my head, made up of antlers. I shiver, thinking of the dead deer, how it was alive one minute and gone the next. Just like Kisten. Just like I'll be soon if I don't deal with my father.
"You brought the new recruit, interesting choice," Janet murmurs, her short dark hair feathering around her angular face as she looks me over. "You look much better than before though, less ..."
"Princess-y?" I suggest, and she laughs.
"I was going to say soft, but that works, I suppose. Follow me." Janet leads us down the hall and into an office that overlooks the soft, mist-tipped tops of the trees surrounding the house. It's infinitely better than the Rogue Elk, and my eye twitches in irritation.
