Page 23 of Sweet Ache (Driven 6)
“You okay?” His focus is solely on me, hands reaching out to touch my arm in a reassuring manner.
“Yeah?” I say it like a question, asking him if the man at my back is really who I think it is.
“I’m sorry.” Hawkin murmurs the apology, somehow realizing that his brother has unnerved me, and he positions himself so that he’s standing between us.
“What are you doing here, Hunter?” The two men stare at each other, animosity palpable between them as they speak without words.
“Wanted to see my big bro’s new gig. Got quite a nice surprise though when I came early and went looking for him. Alcoves can be fun places, no?” Hunter says with a chuckle, giving me the chills that he was watching us. He lifts his chin toward me and raises his eyebrows. “She yours?”
As much as a part of me wants to speak up, assert my position, the obvious discord vibrating between the two of them has me biting my tongue.
“New gig’s courtesy of you, right? If you wanted this for yourself,” Hawke says pointing to the auditorium behind him, sarcasm all but dripping from his voice, “all you had to do was have a little integrity.”
“Integrity is overrated. Contracts, a man’s word, family bonds—nothing holds anymore these days. But you already know that, dontcha brother?” Hunter chides him with a wink, and I notice Hawkin clench his fists. Hunter’s eyes glance over and meet mine, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.
“Leave her alone, Hunt. She’s with me.”
And I’m not sure if it’s the fact that he seems like he’s protecting me from his brother or if it’s him saying I’m his, but hearing those words pulls on some inherent female part of me, a part that longs to be someone’s. Despite the tension of the moment, I find it sadly comical that my resolve to keep Hawkin at arm’s length crumbles with that simple statement.
“Does she’s with me have a name?”
“Trixie,” Hawkin states, beating me to the punch when I was going to give my real one. And then I wonder why he’s giving his own brother my fake name but in the same breath I’m glad he does.
“Trixie.” Hunter rolls the false name around on his tongue before nodding in acceptance. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Hawkin’s sigh
is audible and his voice monotone when he speaks. “Trixie, this is my brother, Hunter…. Hunter, this is Trixie. Satisfied?”
“Very,” he murmurs, eyes finding mine again and I have no problem being the first to look away this time as he takes a step closer. “So Trix—”
“What do you want, Hunter? If you wanted to be here, I know a surefire way you could be.” The derision in Hawke’s voice is frigid.
“Testy, testy. Do you let him talk to you like this?” Hunter directs the question at me, and it’s more than obvious he’s enjoying taunting his brother.
“Answer my question, Hunt.” Hawkin’s tone tells me he’s had enough of whatever game his twin is playing. I just wish I knew what exactly it was.
“I need to borrow your car.”
Hawkin physically startles at Hunter’s request. “You have your own.”
“It’s in the shop. Besides”—Hunter shrugs, completely unapologetic—“I like yours better.”
“You always like mine better.”
“Yes, I do,” he drawls the words out, a predatory gleam in his eye as he glances my way, “since you seem to enjoy taking what I deserve.”
“Cut the crap,” Hawkin orders, authority resonating in his voice as it echoes around the empty theater. “Why do you need it?”
“Mine’s in the shop so—”
“So you thought you’d trek halfway across town to a place you’d never go otherwise to ask me for my car? Ever heard of a taxi? Kind of presumptuous to just assume I’d hand it over, dontcha think?”
From the way they glare at each other—testosterone mixed with what I can guess is familial bad blood—I can’t help but wonder what else they are speaking about because it sure as hell isn’t a car.
“You’d do anything for family, isn’t that right?” Hunter angles his head at his brother, lips pursed, attitude prevalent.
“Try me again. Seems my generosity is running thin.” Hawke’s body vibrates with anger.
