Cryptic Curse, page 13
But she always taught me the importance of being pretty. I had a wardrobe full of party dresses, and I loved every one of them. White and pink socks with lace around the edges, beautiful patent leather Mary Jane shoes. Very similar to the way Belinda dressed before Raven and I took her shopping for more casual clothes.
My hair was always brushed until it shone and then laced with white or pink ribbons.
I was the ultimate little girl. Perfect in her pink femininity.
When my mom passed away, my au pair let me pick out some of my own clothes. I discovered jeans, sweats, leggings. They were so comfortable, and I loved them.
My father didn’t seem to mind.
Not until I turned fifteen, when he began adding pieces to my wardrobe.
Slinky dresses that you might see on the red carpet at some Hollywood premiere. Never worn by a fifteen-year-old.
But that was my life.
And I—
A knock on my door.
I look through the peephole, and there stands Hawk Bellamy, all tall, broad, dark-haired, and blue-eyed.
Without thinking, I whip the door open and launch myself into his arms.
I didn’t tell him to come to my private entrance, but I did tell him where it was.
“Everything’s okay now,” he murmurs into my hair.
He holds me for what seems like an eternity until he slowly disentangles himself from me.
He clears his throat. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I close and lock the door behind us. He looks around my living space. “This is really nice,” he says.
“Yeah, I love it.” I rub my arms against a sudden chill. “Although sometimes, I stay in the main house. In the guest room next to Belinda’s. Some days I like to be close to her.”
“Oh?”
“She’s become like a ch— I mean, little sister to me.”
I almost said child.
She’s the only child I’ll ever have.
“I’m sure you’ve been a good influence on her,” he says. “She hasn’t had it easy—” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. You haven’t had it easy either.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I swear to God, if your father weren’t already dead, I’d kill him myself.”
My cheeks warm.
“Same goes for McAllister,” he says. “For what he did to Belinda. For what his stupid son tried to do to Savannah. He deserved to be tortured to death, to suffer. That would have been a more just end than a clean gunshot.”
I look at Hawk’s handsome face.
I see the anger pulse through him. It’s not loud or messy. It’s the quiet kind, the kind that simmers just beneath the skin. His jaw tightens, a single muscle ticking. His ocean eyes—God, those eyes—darken to something stormy and sharp, like they’re trying to drown the rage before it drowns him.
He doesn’t speak. Not yet. Just breathes, slow and deliberate. But I feel it—his fury. It hums in the air between us, vibrating in my bones like a warning.
Still, I don’t look away. I can’t.
His anger is beautiful.
I never thought anger could be beautiful, but Hawk Bellamy makes it so.
Finally he speaks. “Let me take a look at the note you received.”
I pick it up from where I left it sitting on the small table in my kitchenette. A whiff of Pink Cadillac ice cream—strawberries and chocolate—drifts up from the sink where it still sits, melting in its container.
The paper seems to singe my skin as I hand the note to Hawk, our fingers slightly grazing, making a tingle flow through me.
“Can I see the envelope too?”
“I threw it out.”
“I need to see it, Daniela. It’s important.”
I’m not sure what he means, but I pull it out of my wastebasket and hand it to him. He takes a blue bandana out of his jeans pocket and ties it around his nose and mouth. Then he steps outside.
“You stay here,” he says. “Shut the door. I’ll knock when I’m done.”
“Uh…okay.” I do as he asks and shut the door, my heart racing. What’s he going on and on about?
A few moments later, he knocks on the door. The bandana is no longer on his face.
“What was all that about?” I ask.
“I had to determine that there was no powdered substance inside the envelope that you may have missed.”
I drop my jaw. “What? You mean like drugs?”
“Yeah, maybe drugs.” He purses his lips. “More likely anthrax.”
“That cow disease?”
“That cow disease is actually a potentially fatal bacterial infection, not just something livestock get. If someone wanted to hurt you quietly, anonymously, it would be a good way to do it.”
I blink at him, my mouth going dry. “Okay, well…that’s comforting.”
He doesn’t smile. Though he’s calmed down a bit from his anger. But only a bit.
“The envelope is clean. No powder or other substance.”
I heave a sigh of relief. “Great. So it’s just a creepy valentine with a threat written in ink.”
He tilts his head. “Do you recognize the handwriting by any chance?”
“No. But the message? ‘You locked the door, but you forgot—I have the key.’ That’s not something you write to an old friend.”
His brows draw together. “Have you ever gotten anything like this before?”
“Never. I mean, I’d get gifts from my father’s”—air quotes—“friends from time to time. But nothing threatening. My father wouldn’t have put up with that.” I shudder. “The only person who ever harmed me physically—at least, in a way that didn’t involve sex—was him. No one else was allowed to lay a hand on me or even say anything indicative of violence.”
Hawk scoffs. “So even he had his limitations, you’re saying?”
I close my eyes. “I know how it sounds.” I open my eyes to find his gorgeous blue ones focused solely on me. “Don’t get me wrong. He was a bad man. An evil man.”
I don’t know what else to say. That he let them rape me and scare me but he would have never let them threaten me?
But that’s the truth of it.
To understand my father, you have to understand the way monsters draw lines. Not moral ones—it’s about territory. Ownership. Control. He didn’t protect me because he loved me. He protected his investment. His legacy. His name.
He’d let them touch me, mark me, break me down until I was a shell wrapped in silk. But threaten me? Scare me in a way that made him look weak or vulnerable? That he wouldn’t allow.
Plus, I was one of his most valuable assets. Like his cars, his boats. He wanted them all—myself included—to look as clean and shiny as possible.
I see Hawk’s throat work as he swallows, his expression unreadable now. Maybe it’s the silence between us. Or maybe he’s realizing I’m not just some broken doll from a wealthy house. I’m haunted—worn out, used up, and still standing.
“He’s dead, right?” Hawk asks, voice low.
I nod.
“Good.” He doesn’t blink when he says it. Doesn’t flinch. “But that doesn’t mean he’s finished with you.”
And for a second, I feel it too—that cold breath at the back of my neck, the kind that whispers you’re still his.
“Are you saying you think this note came from my father?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t believe in ghosts. But I do believe in legacies. In the kind of rot a man like that leaves behind.”
I swallow hard, the air suddenly heavier, tighter in my lungs. “You think someone’s carrying on what he started?”
“Maybe,” Hawk says, voice like gravel, eyes locked on mine. “Or maybe someone who knew him. Someone who still sees you the way he did.”
My stomach twists. “Like I’m a possession.”
“Or a threat,” he adds quietly. “Depends on what they think you know. Or what they think you are.”
I let that sink in. The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s thick with old memories and buried warnings. The kind that don’t stay dead, no matter how deep you dig the grave.
“I’m going to get security for you,” he says.
“No.” I shake my head. “I never wanted that. Vinnie offered it, but I love being…normal, you know?”
“You want to be normal?” he says. “Or safe?”
Tears well in the bottoms of my eyes.
I sniff them back.
I stopped crying over the fear of danger long ago. I had to, or I’d have become dehydrated.
I let out a nervous chuckle. “There’s no substance, you said, so the only thing this note can do to me is give me a papercut.”
He shakes his head. “This isn’t a laughing matter, Daniela.”
“I know. I wasn’t trying to make light of anything.”
“Have you called the police?”
The police? Is he kidding me? Back home, I learned to hate the police. They were all paid off by my father. They didn’t wear badges. They wore leashes. I could’ve been bleeding in the street and they would’ve stepped over me to open the door for him.
So no. I don’t trust cops. Not here, not anywhere.
I shake my head. “No. I haven’t called them. And I won’t.”
Hawk doesn’t argue. He just watches me, something tightening in his jaw. “You think whoever sent this is connected to your past?”
I nod once. “I don’t believe in coincidence. Not in my world.”
“All right.” Hawk rakes his fingers through his hair. “Let’s assume for a minute that maybe it’s not from someone from your past. Someone associated with your father.”
I resist rolling my eyes. Who the hell else would it be?
“All right,” I say.
“Is there anyone else? Anyone you’ve met since you’ve been here in the States?”
“No. Only Vinnie and Raven and the servants. The members of your family.” Then a thought occurs to me. “Though I did have my first day of culinary school today, and the guy I partnered up with in class flirted with me a little. Asked me out to a water park.”
Hawk’s jaw goes rigid.
“But he’s a really nice guy. His name is Jordan, and we were sitting with two other women. So I suggested we make it a foursome.”
“You know anything else about him? Where he’s from? What his backstory is?”
I bite my lip, shrug my shoulders. “He works in a restaurant. Wants to become a chef.”
Hawk is still rigid.
“Trust me,” I say. “If you could see him, you would know there’s no way he did any of this.”
“Guys who do things like this”—Hawk holds up the valentine—“are really good at hiding who they really are.” He clears his throat. “But we’ll put a pin in Jordan. Anyone else from Colombia?”
“Well, my father’s dead. Diego Vega is dead. Everyone else connected to my family is dead.”
Hawk clears his throat again. “Are you sure? I mean… You know how many men… You know…” He rakes his fingers through his hair once more. “Fuck, Daniela. I can’t believe anyone would do that to you.”
I swallow. “Well, at least I was fifteen. Poor Belinda—”
“Damn it!” Hawk slams his fist into the drywall with a crack like a gunshot, his knuckles tearing through plaster and leaving a jagged hole that trembles with the force of his fury.
I gasp. I’ve seen men get violent before. I don’t like it.
But already I know Hawk wouldn’t hurt a fly. Only a wall.
I grab his wrist. His knuckles are bleeding. “Let me take care of that for you.”
“I’m fine.” He glances at the wall. “Sorry for that. I’ll have someone come by and repair it tomorrow.”
“Hawk, I don’t care about the wall. I care about you. Come on.”
I lead him through my small living area to the second of my bathrooms, where I keep first-aid supplies.
I pull out the plastic box and open it. Then I start running water. “Come on, wash your hands.”
“Yeah, okay.” He obeys me, pumping soap out of the dispenser and washing his hands thoroughly.
I watch the strands of blood go down the drain.
Blood.
No matter where I go in my life, no matter what I do, I always seem to see blood.
Hawk’s hand is so large in my own. I spritz Bactine over his knuckles and then bandage him up with Band-Aids.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
Hawk shakes his head. “When you’ve been tossed off a busting bronco, you learn to deal with pain.”
I nod.
Then he takes his bandaged hand and cups my cheek. Shivers course through me at the contact.
“I promise you, Daniela. I promise that we will get to the bottom of this.”
I nod again. “Thank you. Thank you for coming when I called.”
He burns his gaze into mine. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect you. I will get security on you, and I’m going to stay here until Vinnie and Raven get home.”
25
HAWK
Damn.
I almost wish I had brought Eagle with me. I could use a third wheel about now.
I could also use a shower. I’m dirty as shit from digging.
I can’t ask Daniela to let me use her shower.
I don’t have a change of clothes here anyway. Though I could probably borrow something from Vinnie.
“Daniela,” I say.
“Yeah?”
I draw in a long breath. “As you can see, I kind of need a shower.”
Her cheeks redden.
“You think we could go into the main house? I could shower in one of the guest bathrooms and borrow some clean clothes from Vinnie.”
She blinks for a few seconds before speaking. “You…can use my shower.”
Fuck.
“I could, but I don’t think any of your clothes would fit me.” I let out a nervous chuckle.
She reddens even further.
“Yeah, of course.”
She leads me to the back of her flat to a door. She keys in a code, and the door opens into the main house. A stairway stands in front of us, and she leads me upward and then to a vacant bedrooom.
“This is the room I use when I stay in this part of the house,” she says. “You can shower here. I’ll go ahead and get some clothes from Vinnie for you to put on.”
“Thanks.”
I go into the room and close the door, locking it behind me.
I walk straight into the en suite bathroom, start the shower, and shed my dirty clothes. I don’t want to leave a mess, so I fold them and set them on the counter. Then I step under the hot shower and let it pelt me.
What a fucking day.
Someone took Diego Vega’s body—or who we thought was Diego Vega—out of the ground on our property. But Eagle’s right. Whoever did it left the drugs. So it sure as hell wasn’t my brother.
And now?
Someone is threatening the woman I—
I stop the thought abruptly.
The woman I… What?
I don’t know.
All I know is I’m having feelings that I’m not sure I’ve ever had before.
My dick is hard and throbbing, and though I hate the idea of jacking off in the shower that Daniela probably uses, I do it anyway.
After all, I volunteered to stay here until Vinnie and Raven get home, and I can’t have a raging hard-on the entire time.
Though I probably will no matter what.
I wash the dirt and silt off my body, give my hair a thorough cleansing not once but twice, and then rinse off.
I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around my waist, and use another to dry my hair.
My dirty clothes sitting on the counter remind me.
I have nothing to put on.
I shouldn’t have locked the door. Daniela could’ve come in and dropped off some clothes.
Of course, knowing she was in the room, that only a thin shower curtain separated her from my naked wet body…
Probably best that she didn’t come in.
But now what do I do? Walk around in a towel until I find something?
Raven lives here. I really don’t want to run into my sister in a state of undress.
And shit… Belinda lives here, too. The last thing she needs to see after everything she’s been through is a grown man she hardly knows walking around nearly naked.
I walk over to the door of the room, unlock it, and crack it just a bit to peek outside.
Sweet, sweet Daniela.
She left some clothes folded neatly at the foot of the door.
I think I may have found the perfect woman.
Screw the fact that she’s only eighteen and she’s married to my sister’s fiancé.
There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.
She left sweats and a sweatshirt, probably a good idea since Vinnie and I may not have the same waist size. Also a pair of slippers.
I put on the clothes, which fit nicely, and slide my feet into the slippers.
They’re a little snug, but they’ll be fine. Maybe I can throw my clothes in the laundry and they’ll be clean by the time I leave later tonight when Vinnie and Raven get home. Plus that’ll buy me some time with Daniela.
I walk to the next room, where the door is open.
Daniela is sitting with Belinda on her bed, playing a card game.
“Hey,” I say.
“Good, you found the clothes,” Daniela says. “Do they fit all right?”
“Yeah, they’re great.” I flash her a smile. “Thanks. Do you think I could throw my dirty ones in the laundry? That way I won’t have to wear Vinnie’s clothes home.”
“Oh yeah, I don’t see why not.” Daniela says. “I’ll take care of it for you.”
“I’m capable of doing my own laundry.”
“The staff is off duty now, so if you insist.” She smiles.
“Just show me the way, and I’ll take care of it.”
She points. “Down the hallway to your right. That’s the laundry room for this wing.”
“Got it.”
I head back into the guestroom, grab my dirty clothes, and then follow Daniela’s instructions to the laundry room. I shove the clothes in the washer, add some detergent, and start the shortest cycle I can find. Then I head back to Belinda’s room.
