ANGELINA
Pain burns through my right arm and temple, and I struggle to take a breath, the wind knocked completely out of me by the force of whatever the hell that was and hitting the hard rooftop.
I groan and roll onto my back, rubbing at my arm, trying to clear the ringing from my ears. “What the fuck was that?”
Jude pushes up off the roof, his hand at his head, too, shaking it slightly. “I-I don’t know. Are you all right?”
Aside from the splitting pain in my head, the ringing in my ears, and the ache in my arm, I seem okay. “I’m good. I think.” The acrid smell of smoke hits me with my next inhale. “Oh, my God.”
I struggle to my feet and rush to the edge of the roof overlooking the street. Flames leap from the front of the Grind, glass and wood and other debris strewn across the street.
“No.” My heart sinks into my stomach. “No. No. No!”
Jude appears next to me, still rubbing at his head. “Holy fuck, it looks like a war zone.”
“The café…” I turn and race toward the door to the stairwell, Jude hot on my heels, still trying to button his pants.
“No. Angie, you can’t go over there.”
“I have to try to stop it.” I tug the door open before he can get to me and race down the stairs, his litany of “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” behind me as his bare feet pound down each step.
I hit the landing and glance up at him.
He points at me, eyes wide. “Don’t. Go to my place. We’ll call 9-1-1 and everyone.”
There isn’t any time. If I don’t do something, I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked so fucking hard for. My mind negates any potential danger with the thought that I might be able to stop it, to salvage something.
I ignore Jude’s warning and keep flying down the steps.
He snarls and continues descending behind me. “Motherfucker.”
His frustrated footsteps grow closer, his long legs eating up the distance far quicker than I can, but I keep making my way down to the first floor as he darts off toward his place to grab his phone.
Where the hell is mine?
The constant ringing in my ears makes it impossible to think clearly, and I shake my head again to try to clear it, an inky blackness creeping around the edges of my vision.
What the hell happened?
We were kissing, and then it was like the entire world exploded around us. A literal bomb blowing us sideways…
I hit the first floor, and the glass front door is blown inward, large shards scattered all along the hallway. Whatever happened was powerful enough to shatter all the panes on this side of the street, too.
“Oh, God. No. No. No.” I weave through the mess, pieces crunching underneath my shoes, and step through where a pane of glass once stood, out into the fucking war zone that was once the quiet, quaint, little business district.
Thick black smoke billows up and out from the Grind, flames leaping and jumping wildly, like they’re being fed by something inside, already engulfing the businesses on either side—a specialty butcher and the space Astrid uses to hold her tutoring sessions with the employees.
I take a few steps across the sidewalk to the street, and another blast sends flames barreling out of the now-destroyed storefront toward me, along with pieces of shrapnel from everything inside. Strong arms wrap around me from behind, jerking me back against a powerful chest, and we slam into the wall beside the destroyed windows of Jude’s building.
His warm breath flutters in my hair, coming in heavy pants. “Jesus Christ, Ang. What the hell are you doing?”
He brings his phone to his ear and presses his lips against my neck, right behind my ear. “You’re not going over there. I have 9-1-1 on the phone. You need to call Savage…call everybody.”
I try to process his words, but all I hear is the roar of the inferno, the crackling of glass, the small explosions of anything flammable inside when the flames finally reach it.
It’s all gone.
Everything.
“Yes. I’m still here. Okay. No, we won’t go near it. We’re across the street. There’s damage to the buildings on this side, too. No, we own this whole side of the block and that side. No other owners to call. Okay. Thank you.”
He ends the call and slips his phone into his pocket, wrapping both arms around me and fully cocooning me back against him. His familiar scent mixes with the sharp tang of smoke in the air. “I’m so sorry, Ang.”
I can’t form a response.
What the hell do I say as I watch my entire life’s work burn?
“Who could have…” I shake my head, tears streaming down my face, blurring my vision. “How did this…”
“I don’t know, Ang.” He kisses that spot between my collarbone and neck again, letting his lips linger there as he gathers himself together. “Fuck, I’m going to call Savage and everyone.”
Sirens sound in the distance, but it’s too late for them to do anything. By the time I got out here, it was already too late.
Gone.
All of it.
In a fucking instant.
My stomach heaves, and I turn to the side and retch, emptying everything onto the sidewalk to join the rubble littering it.
“Shit.” Jude squats next to me, pulling my hair back with one hand as he pulls out his phone with the other to make another call. He watches me intently, concern furrowing his brow as I retch again. “Uncle Savage, it’s Jude.” He swallows thickly. “The Grind just exploded.”
Even with the phone to his ear, I can hear Savage’s response. “WHAT?”
“It exploded. The whole thing is in flames, along with the butcher and Astrid’s place. Shattered all the glass on my building, too, and a few on either side. Fire trucks are on their way. You all need to get everyone over here.” He listens intently for a moment. “No. They’re okay. No one was inside.”
Thank God…
The thought of what could have happened if anyone were still there makes my stomach turn again, and I heave with nothing left to throw up.
Jude’s other hand starts to rub between my shoulder blades softly. “Are you okay?”
I sob and wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. “No. How the fuck can I be okay?”
There isn’t anything anyone can do now.
Hawke’s Daily Grind is gone.
And every breath of acrid smoke carries with it the burning remnants of my dream. I finally can’t bear to look at it anymore or to face it and breathe in the end of everything I worked for.
I turn, and Jude helps me stand to bury my forehead against his chest, letting him engulf me in his arms and press his lips into my hair.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Ang.”
“Who would do this? Who would fucking do something like this?” My sobs fill the air around us, and even I can hear how unhinged they sound, how frantic, how on the edge of completely losing control. “It doesn’t make any sense…”
He drags my head back, my cheeks between his palms, and forces me to look up at him as tears stream down my face. “You know we’re going to find out what happened. No matter what, if someone did this, if it wasn’t an accident, they’re going to pay. The Hawkes don’t let shit like this go.”
I dart out my tongue to wet my dry lips and squeeze my eyes closed, my legs starting to tremble beneath me like I can barely hold myself up anymore. Only Jude’s strong arms around me keep me upright as the firetrucks turn onto the street and come to a screeching halt in front of the shell of the café. Firefighters jump out, rushing around, attaching hoses as quickly as they can to the hydrants to spray water on a fire that’s already taken its victim—my entire fucking livelihood, the only thing I ever had that was mine.
Jude presses his lips to mine softly and pulls my cheek against his chest, his other hand holding me steady at my lower back. “We’ll fix it.”
“It’s gone, Jude. There’s no fucking fixing that.”
“Don’t talk like that.” He kisses the top of my hair, likely filled with ash that floats through the air around us. “We’ll rebuild. You know the Hawkes are capable of anything.”
I pull my head back, pure hatred and wrath filling my veins. “And apparently, so are Falco and Cassius Whitaker.”
His eyes widen. “You think this is Falco?”
I motion back to the carnage, to the firefighters running around, trying to get control of it. Three police cars join the fray, and they start cordoning off both sides of the road to stop the very light traffic this time of night and control the scene. “Who the fuck else would do this to us? Who else would have the fucking balls?”
Something flashes in his eyes. “Roselli…he was just here.”
“Fuck.” I bite my lip, considering the possibility. “You’re right. But why? I don’t—”
“Hey!” He takes my face again and jerks it up harshly, effectively stopping my downward spiral. “This isn’t the time to lose your shit. You keep it together, okay? It’s not up to you to figure this out on your own. Especially now. Everyone will be here soon, and you know no one’s going to stop until they get to the bottom of what happened.”
I stare up into his pale-blue eyes, the love he has for me shining so strongly in them. The need to ensure I’m okay, to protect me in the only way he can. I don’t know how I never saw it before. Mostly because I didn’t want to see it because I was afraid of what it would mean, afraid that I could feel the same way about a man who’s twelve years younger, who I fucking babysat, who, for all intents and purposes, is a member of the Hawke family.
But that’s exactly why this works, exactly why Jude and I fit together so well, because we know each other. We know everything. Now, I know all his secrets, what haunts his nightmares and what he dreams about, and it only makes me love him more.
A car screeches to a stop down the street near the barricade, and we both whip our heads in that direction to find Saint and Bishop climbing from their SUV, both of their gazes locked on the inferno.
“Fuck.” I jerk away from Jude and shove my shaking hands back through my hair. “They got here fast.”
Bishop rushes across the sidewalk, her eyes darting between the blaze and us, and pulls me into her arms. “Oh, my God. Angie, are you okay?”
I nod, even though I’m not at all okay, and a sob slips from my lips.
Saint approaches and wraps a massive arm around us, leaning in to whisper to me. “We’re going to find out what happened, who’s behind this.”
I lift my head and look him dead in the eye. “It had to have been Falco or Roselli.”
He presses his lips together in a firm line and stares up at the café. “Or it could’ve just been a gas leak or something else completely accidental.”
“There was no gas leak.” I shake my head and incline it toward the ruins. “I was just in there an hour ago, and everything was fine. I never smelled any gas.”
Jude still leans against the brick next to the blown-out windows of what will be the bookstore and art gallery, staring into the flames which reflect back across his blue eyes. “I didn’t smell anything, either. And I was outside just before it exploded.”
He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t explain what he was doing outside, and I release a heavy sigh of relief. There’s too much to deal with at the moment to be answering questions about us.
Saint’s gaze drifts over to him. “Are you all right?” He looks up at the shattered windows on Jude’s loft. “Shit, it destroyed this side of the street, too.”
Jude nods. “I’m fine. Nothing some new windows won’t fix.”
Saint pulls out his phone. “I’m going to go make calls to a couple of our contractors, see if I can get them out here tonight to at least board all this up if they can’t replace them right away.”
Two more cars pull to a stop behind his, and Gabe, then Savage, exit one while Isaac and Stone exit the other, all eyes wide and pointed at what was once one of our most-profitable businesses.
“Holy shit.” Isaac’s words don’t even come close to describing what we’re seeing.
He walks over, and Bishop allows him to tug me out of her arms and into his. “I’m so sorry, Ang.”
I lift my head. “Did somebody call Allie?”
He nods. “My mom is going to get her right now, and your parents are on their way. Everyone will be here soon.” His gaze darts to Jude. “Luca and Byron are on their way, too.”
Jude nods slowly and runs a hand through his hair. “It seems like it’s going to be a long night.”
* * *
JUDE
Hawkes clamor in and out of the condo, half of them on cell phones, rattling off orders to various people, the other half, arms wrapped around each other, comforting one another and quietly whispering about the situation.
I stand in my usual spot with my back to the brick, next to the now-open windows, staring out at the remnants of the fire, finally almost under control. Only a few hot spots remain that the firefighters struggle to settle.
Almost five hours later, smoke still wisps from the ruins of the Grind and the buildings on either side of it. It could have been much worse. If the winds had been strong tonight, the flames could have carried much farther and destroyed The Hawkes Nest just down the street or any number of our other businesses.
Though it’s hard to feel lucky, seeing Angie’s dream destroyed like this.
I watch Saint down on the street, talking with the fire chief, motioning toward the café in a heated exchange. The big man, who’s always been our protector and head of security for all the Hawke operations for as long as I’ve been alive, doesn’t look too happy with whatever he hears.
He turns to Bishop, who stands beside him with her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot and looking every bit as angry as her father, and says something that makes her scowl.
She turns back and marches toward my building, then appears in the condo a moment later, the door slamming behind her. Everyone turns to look at her, and she stalks across the wood floor directly to where Savage, Gabe, Stone, and Isaac huddle together, whispering.
Whatever she tells them stiffens all their backs, and they exchange pained and angry looks.
Shit.
My gaze immediately darts to the couch, where Angie and Allie sit wrapped in blankets, with Storm and Skye on either side of them, whispering to them reassuringly, though I don’t know what the fuck they could be telling them that would make any of this okay.
All I want is to pull Ang into my arms, to hold her and let her know I have her, no matter what. That somehow things will work out…eventually. But I can’t even do that. Not with everyone milling around and watching me like a hawk.
Most have never set foot in here, and many of them haven’t seen me face to face in two damn years. I’m as much of an attraction to them as the destruction outside.
I close my eyes and rub my hand over my face. The stress of yesterday and what’s happened since the blissful few moments we had up on that roof—before the world went to shit—are all finally catching up to me.
My body sags more against the wall, and I consider dropping onto my ass and not even bothering to try to stand anymore. I cough slightly, likely a response to the smoke we’ve all been inhaling for hours. Dropping my head back, I close my eyes and try to go back to the roof. To how it felt to hear Angie say those three little words to me that I never thought she’d ever say.
Heavy footsteps approach on the wood floor, and someone nudges something cool and wet against my arm.
“Looks like you could use this.”
I open my eyes and accept the bottle of water from Luca. “Thanks.”
Another cough rattles my chest, and I crank off the top and take two long swallows of it.
Luca narrows his gaze. “Are you all right? Did you get checked out? You and Angie must have inhaled a lot more smoke than any of us did.”
“I’m fine.”
The last thing I want is to be poked and prodded by more doctors. I’ve had enough of that for ten lifetimes.
He looks over to where Aunt Nora is talking with Coen. “Should I have Nora come?”
“No, Luca, really. If I need a damned doctor, I’ll call her or Pope.”
The harsh tone in my response makes him hold up his hands defensively. “Sorry. I’m just worried about you.”
Fucking hell.
Nothing like being a total dick to the man who literally saved your life.
“No.” I press my hand to my temple, clamping my eyes shut against the growing migraine forming there. “It’s not that. I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted.” I meet his gaze again, doing my best to soften mine to convey I’m being serious. “I appreciate you worrying about me.”
He lets out a laugh, his eyes widening slightly. “Really? I don’t think you’ve ever said that in fifteen years or given me any indication that it didn’t just piss you off.”
Well, fuck, if that isn’t a guilt trip, I don’t know what is.
I rub at the back of my neck and take another sip of water. “I do appreciate it, everything you and Byron have done for me. I am just really fucking bad at showing it.”
My words seem to stun him for a moment. The unshakeable man who controlled a massive, violent criminal empire shifts uncomfortably in his thousand-dollar Italian loafers and looks away for a second, like he’s trying to compose himself before he replies.
He clears his throat. “Well, I’m glad you feel that way.” Visibly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, he scans the street and the open window frames in front of us. “What time was the construction company going to be able to come over to put in new windows?”
“They said before noon.”
“Good.” He takes a step forward and glances down to the sidewalk that’s already been cleared of debris by one of our teams. “Downstairs, too?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Fuck…” He shakes his head, his jaw hardening. “What a mess, huh?”
“You have no idea.” The ache that’s taken up residency in the center of my chest throbs again, and I rub at it with my free hand, glancing over at the woman I want so badly to help. “This is going to destroy Angie more than anyone even knows.”
A familiar car pulls up outside, and Caroline climbs from the driver’s seat, then rushes around to the passenger side.
I quickly scan the condo, where literally everyone else has gathered to assess and address the situation and offer each other comfort in the middle of the fucking night. “Who’s that?”
Luca stands on his tiptoes to look down. “Nana.”
“Nana’s coming?”
He waves his hand back to literally the entire Hawke family crammed around my space. “You think she wouldn’t?”
It never crossed my mind that the matriarch of the family would make an appearance, but maybe I should have anticipated it. Antonia Hawke doesn’t like to be left out of anything and doesn’t let her age slow her down at all.
“She’s never been to my place before.”
Luca gives me a pointed look. “You haven’t invited her.”
“Shit”—I rub a hand over my stubbled cheek—“that’s fair.”
The old woman climbs from the passenger seat with a little bit of help she clearly doesn’t want from Caroline, pushing her away slightly. “I can do it myself.”
Her insistence carries up to the second floor through the open windows, and I can’t help but smirk. Every bit as feisty as I remember her from the last time we saw each other in person.
She glances up, and a smile breaks out across her old lips as she waves to Luca and me. Her gaze drifts over to the wreckage across the street, and I can see her heart sink, the moment of joy at seeing me wiped away by knowing what’s been lost.
With a deep sigh, she allows Caroline to lead her across the sidewalk, through what was the glass door, and disappears inside.
“What do you think about all this?” Luca motions to the café. “What’s your take?”
“What do you mean?”
His dark brows draw low over his even darker eyes. “Son, you’re here every day. You see everything that happens on this street and at that building. You need to tell me what you’ve observed. Did you see anything before the explosion?”
I gulp.
Only Angelina’s fucking cunt wrapped around my dick.
Shifting slightly to hide the twitch of my cock at the thought, I scan the street. “I was working all night. I didn’t see much of anything.”
“And when did Angie come over?”
I jerk my head in his direction, brows raised. “What?”
He raises a brow in return. “Wasn’t she here when the explosion happened?”
Shit.
We’ve been so busy dealing with the authorities and family showing up in droves that Angie and I haven’t had a chance to discuss how we’re answering these questions.
Motherfucking hell.
Any way I answer this, it’s going to raise questions. Ones neither of us want to be addressing right now, with so many bigger things happening all around us.
The door opening gives me the reprieve I desperately need from the questioning, and Nana and Caroline enter, Saint hot on their heels, carrying several grocery bags that he must have retrieved from his wife’s car.
Savage moves over to his mother, and she leans down to whisper something to him. He nods and motions to the couch, where Angie and Allie both sit, crying.
Nana walks over to them, and they both get up to give her a hug.
My heart shatters for all of them, for what they’ve lost, for what this is going to do to them. Then Nana turns, and her gaze locks with mine. She offers a sad smile and makes her way over slowly, almost tentatively.
She gives Luca a hug. “I know you’re going to find out what happened.”
“Of course, Nana.”
He pats her on the back and leaves me alone with the woman who’s always treated me like a grandson, even when I couldn’t even allow her to touch me.
Her old eyes, that still seem to see too much, travel over me from head to foot. “You’ve changed a lot in two years.”
“Hi, Nana. It’s good to see you.” My focus automatically drifts over to the smoke curling from the burned-out building. “I wish it had been under different circumstances.”
The old woman issues a long sigh, twisting her hands around the strap of the purse strung across her body as she looks at the carnage. “I agree; the circumstances are not ideal.” She turns to face me. “Now, I know this is a huge ask, Jude, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen my grandson. Can I hug you?”
The moment she says the words, tears well up in my eyes, and instead of flinching from her touch, like I have so many other times, like I have with everyone who’s ever tried it, except for Angie and Allie, I take a step forward and pull the frail woman into my arms.
She issues a little oomph sound and laughs as she tightens her arms around me. “You’re so tall, so muscular. You must work out a lot.”
I laugh. “That’s basically my whole life, Nana: writing, working out.”
She pokes me in the stomach. “You could use a few extra pounds here. If you came to Sunday dinners, I could get you filled up.”
“I know.” I squeeze her shoulders. “I miss your cooking.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “I saw Angie sneak away with a plate the other night.”
I try to look stupid, raising a brow. “Oh, really?”
She purses her lips. “Yes, I wonder where she took it, since everyone was at dinner except you.”
Shrugging, I step back from her before she delves too deeply into her suspicions. “Perhaps leftovers for herself so she doesn’t have to cook.”
A knowing smirk spreads on Nana’s face. “Possibly.”
Angie approaches, almost as if she can hear us discussing her, the blanket still wrapped around her. Allie follows her, and the four of us stare out at the café.
I want to reach out and pull Allie and Angie into my sides, to hold both of them and offer them what little comfort I can, but I can’t pile any more complications into tonight…or, I guess, early this morning.
Everything has been thrown into such disarray. The last thing we need now is a bunch of speculation about what’s happening with the girls and me.
Nana glances over at us. “So, what do we all think? Those cunts Falco Enterprises or that douchebag Roselli?”
All of us whip our heads toward her, eyes wide. “Nana!”
Our chorus makes her chuckle. The Hawke matriarch never was one to mince words, but still, I wouldn’t have expected that to come from her mouth so freely.
Angie wraps an arm around her grandmother’s shoulder. “Nana, we don’t know what’s happening yet, and you can’t talk like that.”
She laughs again and motions backward to where all her kids and grandkids linger around the loft. “Oh, yeah? Why not? After ninety years on this planet, I think I’ve earned the right to say whatever I want, especially after everything we’ve all been through.”
That’s definitely true.
Who are we to criticize the woman and how she chooses to live her life, considering the way we all have?
Allie rests her head on Nana’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Nana.”
Nana snorts. “Well, somebody had to cook for all of you.”
Angie drops her arm. “What? No, Nana, you don’t have to.”
She waves a dismissive, wrinkled hand. “Caroline already grabbed everything I need before she picked me up. I’ll get started now. Everyone must be hungry.”
My stomach rumbles, reminding me that Angie and I never did get to our picnic, which is still sitting untouched on the blanket on the roof. “What are you making?”
She smiles at me and pokes my stomach again. “Lasagna and chicken parm, your favorites.”