Savage clenches one fist on the desk. “What sort of complications?”
“Ones that shouldn’t and don’t concern the Hawkes.”
Coen pushes up from his seat, and Stone reaches out to try to grab his arm but can’t get to him fast enough before his son slams his palms on the desk across from Savage, leaning over the phone. “Anything that concerns you concerns the fucking Hawkes now, Satriano.”
“Oh, is that Coen?”
Shit.
Everyone in the room tenses.
Kennedy throws a frightened look to Stone and Isaac while everyone else looks to Savage for direction.
Should I get Coen out of the room before he says something stupid?
I start to move toward him, but Luca shakes his head, halting my steps.
Apparently, we’re going to let this play out.
“Who else is there with you?” Satriano laughs lightly. “The usual suspects, I presume? Gabe Anderson, Saint Clarke, Stone, my good friend Isaac, and the lovely Kennedy. How about the beautiful Bishop?”
It’s my turn to tense as my gaze locks on her. Hearing her name from his lips is enough to raise my hackles and make my protective instincts kick into full gear.
“And I would bet my old friend, Luca Abello is there as well…”
Luca’s jaw tenses.
Savage clears his throat. “Yes, they’re all here.”
“Wonderful. Then I’ll only have to say this once. If I thought any of my dealings would threaten my daughter’s life or that of my grandchild, I would let you know.”
“Would you?” Coen barely gets the words out through gritted teeth.
“You think so little of me?—”
Coen sneers. “We have every reason to question every word that comes out of your mouth.”
“Not about this.” Satriano remains stone cold despite the heat and accusation in Coen’s voice. “I am glad you called though, because I was hoping we might be able to reopen our discussions about potentially working together.”
“That door is long closed.” Savage’s response leaves no room for argument. “Don’t try to reopen it.”
Satriano tsks. “Oh, well. That is unfortunate. And I do have to get going, but I appreciate the welcome home phone call. Ciao.”
He ends the call without another word, and Coen pushes off the desk, running his hands through his hair almost frantically.
Stone steps toward him, reaching out with the hand not resting on the cane at his side. “Son…”
“Don’t.” Coen holds up a hand, preventing his father from offering him any comfort. “I can’t right now. You all think he was full of shit, right? When he said this has nothing to do with him?”
Everyone nods.
Including me.
The way he said “complications” stays ringing in the back of my head.
Coen scans the faces of everyone in the room, his rising panic evident. “So where do we go from here?”
I don’t have a fucking clue.
