1. Isaac
CHAPTER 1
ISAAC
The golden flicker of the single lamp leaves a soft glow over the empty whiskey glass on my desk. I'm in my office, listening to Purgatory's pulse beating through the walls, a muffled symphony of seduction and sin. But it's all white noise to the filmstrip of images rushing in my mind—a private replay of my night with Hawk. The night I asked him to end Tucci.
"Christ," I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face, still feeling the ghost of Hawk's lips on mine, the firestorm that raged through my blood when he pressed me down, his body a promise of both damnation and deliverance.
For the first time ever, I wanted it. I didn't flinch from the touch, didn't recoil into the shadows of my past where the hands of others on me were weapons.
Hawk's hands, though... they set me free.
It's a thought that dances on the edge of lunacy—freedom found in the clasp of another's control. But with him, my usual fear crumbled like the facade of an old church, revealing sacred truths within.
And the truth is I like cock.
I lean back in the leather chair and close my eyes. Sex… That act has always been a locked door painted with the faces of Jacob and other figures from cold prison nights. A door I never imagined walking through willingly, let alone craving to open again.
But Hawk... Hawk didn't just turn the key. He dismantled the lock. He made me want things I'd buried deeper than bodies in the desert—made me revel in a surrender that should've tasted like defeat. But instead was as heady as the power I wield behind this desk.
And here I am, aching for the press of Hawk's body, for the possessive grip of his hands—the only embrace that hasn't felt like chains. There's beauty in this irony, something almost poetic about finding strength in yielding to another.
I trace the rim of the whiskey glass, contemplating refilling it but deciding against it. No amount of amber liquid can compare to the intoxication of being known—in the biblical sense and beyond—by someone like Hawk.
Shouldn't have done it , I think to myself as the weight of regret starts to return, dragging me down into the depths of what I asked Hawk to do. Tucci's life was a currency I spent too freely, paid out to calm Jeremy's suspicions. But Hawk's loyalty was never mine to buy. It was given, not taken—something I know now but couldn't see then.
A knock on the door shatters the silence, and I snap to attention as Jeremy strides in, his face carved from stone, eyes like twin bullets ready to deliver bad news. "EJ's dead," he says without preamble, and those two words hit me harder than a fist.
"Dead?" I repeat, as if saying it aloud might reverse the truth of it. EJ had been our lifeline through the rez, our silent partner in this dance of necessity for a long time.
"Found shot a few miles outside the rez."
"Shit."
"Looks like execution, boss."
"Someone's trying to step on our toes," I state. It's not a question. It's a fact. I can see it already before more details pour. "Did you talk to Gabe?" I ask.
Jeremy shakes his head, the scar across his cheekbone twisting with the motion. "He won't deal with this without EJ. Says we're on our own."
"Fucking hell." The word is a hiss between my teeth. Losing EJ is like losing a limb—we can't function properly without him.
Pulling myself together, I stand up, push back the chair. I've always known that in this world, you either adapt or you die. And I'm not ready to lie down and let fate take its course—not when I've just started embracing the chaos within me, thanks to Hawk.
"Then we find another way." My voice is cold as the steel of a gun barrel.
"I'm all ears," Jeremy says, but the look on his face tells me he doesn't see how this can be done.
I pace for a few minutes, my mind churning.
"Here is what we need," I start, the words razor-sharp as they cut through the quiet. "We need options. The kind that don't leave us belly-up for the vultures."
He stares at me, his gaze is all hard lines and sharp edges. "And where do you suggest we start looking? Our usual channels are drying up, Blade. With the Feds sniffing around and Toro's name scaring off the small fish, we're pretty much fucked sideways. Even Vartan's guys don't want to do business with us. Said they're taking a break. Can you fucking imagine? Those assholes. When shit like this happens, you know what it means, boss."
"Great," I mutter. The weight of leadership is like a crown made of lead. There's a deep-seated restlessness inside me, clawing its way out. "So everyone's got cold feet. Just perfect."
"Nobody wants to touch this," Jeremy continues gravelly. "They think it's a one-way ticket to a cell—or a coffin."
"Then we'll do it ourselves." The words come out more reckless than I intend.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Jeremy's eyes widen. "We've got no routes, Isaac. No safe passages left."
"Wrong." My mind is racing down dark alleys of memory. "There's Santino."
"Santino? Your prison buddy?" Jeremy's frown deepens into disapproval. "That crazy bastard who used to run coke across the border?"
"He knows a mountain road."
"Shit, Isaac. People vanish in those mountains. How are we going to travel with fucking trucks?"
"We're smarter than most trying to cross there. Besides, I'm going too."
"Fuck, you can't be serious." Jeremy stares at me like I've just sprouted a second head.
"I am serious. Find out where Santino is hiding out these days and tell him I want to meet."
"Okay, boss. Whatever you say. But I don't like it."
A nervous laugh escapes me, a sound like shattered glass on concrete, as I pound my fist against the door of Hawk's suite. Anticipation tightens in my gut while I listen to the muted sound of his footfalls on the other side.
The door swings open, and there he is. Those blue eyes communicate surprise.
"What are you doing here?"
Without a word, I shove him back into the safe space of the room, before someone sees us. My lips crash against his with the desperation of a man starved for oxygen. The kiss is a spark in dry tinder, igniting a fire that rages through my veins. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, as if he could crawl inside my skin and set up residence in the hollows of my bones.
"Needed to see you," I say between the kisses.
"Missed me?" he asks with a smirk.
"Yes."
"Missed you too," Hawk rasps, his voice stones and honey and everything that drives me mad with want.
"Show me," I growl, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his jeans, urgency threading through my movements. My hand slips inside, finding him hard and waiting, and a surge of victory punches through me. He moans, a sound so raw it could separate flesh from bone and blood.
"Fuck, Isaac..." His breath hitches as he mirrors my actions, palming me through the fabric of my slacks before slicking his hand with his saliva and diving in for a more direct touch.
Our movements are frenzied, hungry. We are two people seeking salvation through sex in the wreckage of our lives.
"Like this," I pant, guiding his hand, showing him exactly how I need it. "Squeeze it harder, Hawk."
"God, yes," he chokes out, thumb circling the head of my cock, sending spikes of pleasure ricocheting through my spine. I mimic him, stroking with purpose, determined to drag us both over the edge into the netherworld.
"Isaac—" Hawk's voice breaks on the ascent, and I can feel the shudder that racks his body a split second before mine follows suit. We come together, a mess of limbs and labored breathing, cum painting our hands like the first brushstrokes on a blank canvas.
"Shower," I gasp out, not a suggestion but a command.
He nods, still reeling from the aftershocks, and we stumble toward the bathroom, peeling off soiled clothes along the way.
Steam rises around us as hot water cascades down our bodies, washing away the traces of our deeds. I press my forehead to the cool tiles, allowing the scalding stream to burn away the doubts and fears. Hawk's hands roam my back, soothing the scars that no one else has ever touched.
"Better?" he murmurs, tracing the line of my spine with a tenderness that feels like a punch to the gut.
"Yes," I whisper back, turning to face him.
I lean in, kissing him softly, such contrast to the chase for release from the moments before.
We stay like that for an eternity, or maybe just minutes. Time blurs around me when I'm with him.