Hawk Read online

  Hawk

  The Church Series

  Tiya Rayne

  Contents

  Perceptive Illusions Publishing, Inc.

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Blue’s Queens’, Divas’, and Readers’ Retreat 2020

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Thank You

  Hawk

  The Church Series

  Tiya Rayne

  Perceptive Illusions Publishing, Inc.

  Bay Shore, New York

  Copyright © 2020 by Tiya Rayne.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Tiya Rayne/Perceptive Illusions Publishing, Inc.

  PO Box 5253

  Bay Shore, NY11706

  www.TiyaRayne.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Ordering Information:

  Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the “Special Sales Department” at the address above.

  Hawk: The Church Series/ Tiya Rayne. -- 1st ed.

  Prologue

  Walker

  Hawk

  The ding of the elevator doors startles me and I open my eyes. Pushing away from the back wall of the elevator, I stumble out and onto the fifth floor of the building. One hand drags along the right wall, my fingers dance over the emblazoned wallpaper, the other hand placed over my side where the warm, sticky, wet spot spreads. In my head, I count the doors. It helps me focus and keeps my mind off the pain.

  Things got messy tonight. I wasn’t expecting the bodyguards to be so well trained. I didn’t do my research this time and it shows. I haven’t come that close to death since my very first job. If I’m being honest with myself, this wasn’t my best work. My love for the job is gone. They say in this line of work, the moment you stop loving what you do is the moment you should quit.

  I want different. She makes me want different.

  The smell of spicy Caribbean food coming from apartment 523 greets me. I push away from the right side and take four stumbling steps to the apartment across the hall. I brace my hand on the doorjamb and lean my sweaty head against the door.

  The soft sound of R&B music floats from inside the apartment. The smell of her burning oils soothes me. Always vetiver and clary sage for me. A smile spreads on my face.

  I tap my knuckles against the metal twice, I pause and then twice more. The sound of her clicking heels coming closer already has my pulse racing. That’s what she does to me.

  The door swings open and the cool breeze of her air conditioner feels incredible against my clammy skin, bringing the scent of her with it. Of all my years of traveling this earth, I’ve never come across a scent like hers. Lightly floral, with sweet undertones.

  “You’re fucking late.”

  That pulls another smile from me. She’s pissed. Her foot tapping against the hardwood floors isn’t the only indicator of her anger, the growl in her voice lets me know as well.

  “I’m sorry, Red.”

  “Don’t tell me sorry, Walker. You have an appointment with me for 10:00 p.m. the last Tuesday of every month. It’s after midnight. I was five damn seconds away from taking off your favorite wig and this red lacey teddy you like and going to bed. If you can’t keep your appointment, I’ll give it to someone else.”

  Her tone, though meant to be hard and uncaring, strikes differently. This is the problem Red and I are having lately. I’m starting to care too much. Something neither of us were allowed to do. She is bound by a contract similar to mine.

  “I got a little tied up at work. Are you going to let me in?” In the length of time it takes her eyes to run over my body, silence greets me. Then she takes a subtle intake of air. “It’s not that bad. I barely feel it.” I lie.

  “Come in.” She steps back, and I enter her domain.

  I’ve never felt at home, not since I was taken from my mother at the age of eight. Not even behind the luxury walls of my large condo. Yet, when I am here, in her presence, I’m at peace and home.

  She leads me into her living room. I stagger the straight path and then stumble the step down.

  “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom.” She pauses, I know she wants to say more, but true to her character, she spins around and walks away. The sound of her retreating heels leaving me alone.

  In the bathroom, I peel off my clothes and jump in the shower. I’m mindful of the wound on my side. I lean my head forward, allowing the hot water to soak my hair and run down my back.

  Again, the events of tonight plague me. I’m at the end of my menu, my last job for the month. I will return to the organization with a clean plate tomorrow. However, I knew this hit would be different from the moment I got my menu.

  The target was a family man. A scientist that was involved in the research of life-saving medication. He’s respected in his community, went to church and gave back. He had a solid connection with the police department and a few state officials.

  On the outside, he seemed like an upstanding citizen, but the Church doesn’t make mistakes. Not in the many centuries they have been up and running. Looking further into his background, I discovered he was also a psychopath.

  Dr. Evan Heimlich was a terrorist. He used his research to mastermind dangerous weapons for war and sold them to the highest bidder. The project he was working on recently was a mind-controlling fog that would put any other chemical warfare to shame.

  The Church had to not only shut Heimlich down, but everyone involved in the research. If you only cut off the tail of the snake, another could grow back, but if you dismantle the entire body, he can’t return.

  The job was easy. Everyone involved in his research was at his lab tonight for some type of meeting. The job should’ve been quick and simple, but Heimlich had some top-notch security. Still, I took them all down swiftly. That’s my specialty. We all have them, some more gruesome than others.

  One of Heimlich’s men caught me off guard. That should never have happened, but all I could think about during that cleanup was her. That’s why my job isn’t safe for me anymore. My heart isn’t in it. After taking down the building, I promptly left to come here.

  I switch off the water and step out of the shower using a towel to dry off. I wrap the towel around my waist when I’m done and tap on the bathroom door twice. Red walks in, the first aid kit in
her hand. She places the kit down on her sink.

  “Sit,” she demands, and I take a seat on the toilet. She cracks open the kit, taking the things she will need out. “I should’ve been a nurse,” she states with that snarky humor she’s known for.

  “If you were a nurse, we would’ve never met.”

  She snorts. “And that’s supposed to be a bad thing?” I toss my head back and laugh. She joins. The tinkling of her laughter sounds lovely to my ears. “Are you ready for this?”

  Her soft touch on my side sobers me. I lower my head to where she’s squatting down in front of me. A simple nod from me tells her I’m ready. The smell of the alcohol burns my nose before the coolness of the rag causes me to hiss.

  “Big baby.”

  I laugh through clenched teeth.

  “I never understood how men can stand to get shot,” she says, replacing the alcohol cloth with her soft touch. “But then when it comes to getting it cleaned and stitched up, you turn into pansies.”

  I grit my teeth when the needle enters my skin. My focus is on the woman in front of me. I run my fingers through the long red wig that falls over her shoulders in soft curls.

  I study her. The way her breathing is slow and steady as she concentrates on stitching me up. Her button nose that turns up slightly at the end. Full lips that have the perfect bow shape. Deep dimples in her cheeks, one a little higher than the other and eyes that are wide set and round.

  “If you weren’t stuck here, tell me, what would you be?”

  I know I’m out of character. Asking her personal questions isn’t what we’re allowed to do. However, I find myself wanting to know more about this woman before me.

  She sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe a teacher or a farmer.”

  I laugh, causing my shoulders to shake. Closing my eyes, I inhale through the pinch of the needle. “You and I both know you curse too much to be a teacher.”

  She gives another one of those soft laughs. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

  She tugs on the thread and the sound of scissors lets me know she’s finished. I open my eyes and Red stands to her feet, her short frame brings her chest to my eye level while I’m seated. She places all of her supplies back in her box. When she’s done, she hands me two pills and fills a glass of water under the bathroom sink.

  “They’re extra strength and they’re fast acting.”

  I pop the pills in my mouth, and she hands me the glass after turning off the water. I quickly swallow the pills with barely enough water to get them down. I hand the glass back to Red and she tosses the water into the sink and places the cup down.

  “I guess I won’t get my TV stand put together tonight,” she huffs.

  I don’t care if I was near dying, I only get one night a month with Red. A bullet wound isn’t stopping me from my one night of normalcy.

  I get to my feet, towering over her small frame. I wrap one arm around her waist and pull her into me. She comes willingly, locking her arms around my neck.

  “I swear if it’s another one of those damn IKEA ones, I’m going to make you hire a handyman.”

  Her soft laughter breezes across my face. “You wouldn’t dare,” she taunts.

  She’s right, I wouldn’t. I drop a kiss on her forehead and release her. She steps away, heading to the bathroom door.

  “What’s for dinner?” I ask, following behind her.

  “Your favorite.” She turns back to me, her voice growing louder. “Breakfast food.”

  ***

  Two hours later we lay on top of her soft cotton sheets, the ceiling fan circulating cool air. The television on some crime solving show and my belly full. She’s lying on her side, facing away from me. My arm under her head and the other wrapped around her, tucking her close to my chest.

  “They’re letting me go,” I whisper the words into the top of her head. I feel the gentle shift in her body.

  “So, you do listen,” she teases.

  I smile. “You were right. I feel off. And I can’t risk that.”

  “How soon?” she asks after a long pause.

  “Tonight was my last meal. Once I check in tomorrow, I’ll be free to go.”

  She shifts, turning her body around to face me. I lift my arm from around her to allow her to get comfortable. She stills, her warm exhale brushing against my chin. I place my hand on her cheek, the swipe of my thumb gliding across the wetness.

  “Where will you go?”

  “Away. Someplace quiet. I think you talked me into wanting a farm. Maybe I’ll have a few horses. And kids. I want the whole happy family.”

  She smiles underneath my palm. “You’d be a shitty dad. Always letting your kids get away with everything.” She giggles and I laugh.

  “You might be right.”

  “But your wife.” Her voice sobers and the pitch drops. “She will be the happiest woman in the world.” I glide my hand across her cheek once again, more tears.

  “Come with me.” I make the suggestion before I have time to talk myself out of it.

  As simple as the request is, I know that it isn’t an easy one. Red is as tethered to her position as I once was to mine. Taking her with me wouldn’t be the easy life I dream of. We would spend our lives on the run.

  And though I would do anything for Red, I couldn’t protect her forever from the monsters they would send after us. She knows this too, that’s why I already know her answer. She brings her small hand up to touch my cheek. I allow the familiar scent and warmth to soothe me.

  “I gave you the best version of me.”

  “How many versions do you have?”

  The huff of her breath dances against my skin with her soft laugh. “Too many.”

  “And the real you? What’s she like?”

  She sighs. “You wouldn’t like her. They never do. Besides, the real Red is out there. She’s waiting for you, even though she thinks she isn’t. She will be your biggest opponent yet, and you will have to fight for her, but you two deserve each other.”

  I take a moment to hear her words, truly hear them. I know everything there is to know about this version of Red, but I know nothing personal about the real woman. Not even her real name.

  That’s how it works when you hire someone to be your companion. The Nunnery makes sure their girls don’t get too involved and giving out personal information definitely qualifies as too involved.

  They make sure we understand our roles, that’s why they make us pay the girls instead of them only receiving the salary from the company. They want it to feel impersonal. After all these years of her service, Red and I have formed a bond. Still, I know nothing about her.

  “Tell me your name. I’ll never see you again after tonight, give me something to remember you by.”

  She shifts in bed again, sitting up. She runs her small hands through the hair on my forehead, pushing it off my face. She does that often, I once thought about cutting it, but I didn’t think she would like it.

  “If this is supposed to be our last night together, let’s not ruin it with requests you know I can’t fulfill.” She swings her legs off the side of the bed, causing the mattress to dip.

  I push up onto my elbows. “What should we do?”

  I don’t know what love is. Besides the vague memory of the love I had for my parents and the love I’ve formed with my brothers from the Church, I’ve never experienced it. However, I know that what I feel for Red is the closest thing to love I will ever have.

  She stands to her feet, coming to my side of the bed to pull me up. “Come dance with me.”

  I stand, allowing her to drag me to her living room. “I’ll dance with you under one condition,” I say as we stop in the center of the floor.

  “What’s that?” she asks as the music fills the room.

  I grab her around the waist and pull her into me. “Tell me your name, Red. Just one time.”

  Chapter 1

  Bad News

  Brooklyn

  Five years later…

>   I glance up again at the rude bitch sitting behind the nurse’s desk. Bouncing my leg restlessly, I sit in my seat and play with the sisters pendant around my neck. The urge to yank this nurse’s ass over the counter is wearing me thin.

  This is the worst day of my life. And let’s be honest, my life has been filled with some pretty shitty days, but nothing compares to having cops show up at my apartment in the middle of the night, to tell me that my sister, my twin, the one I vowed to protect, is dead. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

  How can this be real? Albany was the sweetest and kindest person I knew. Even when we were growing up, she was considered the good twin, the obedient one. She was the twin all the foster parents wanted to adopt. They could do without my snarky attitude and quick temper.

  She was shy and quiet. She hardly ever spoke when we were kids unless it was to me. What most took for timid, I knew as Albany studying people.

  That’s what my sister was good at. She was like a savant when it came to reading people. I even once joked that she must have been a mind reader. That’s why it’s so hard to think that anyone would ever hurt her.

  I glance up at the nurse’s desk once again. The rude bitch is on the phone whispering. I’m pretty sure she’s talking about me. I narrow my eyes at her, and she quickly turns away.

  I close my eyes, like I often do to calm myself, and paint her picture in my head. That’s my thing. Like how Albany was good at reading people, I’m good at painting them in my head.