I grit my teeth, trying desperately not to say something that’s going to antagonize the man even more, and Ang walks over with a to-go cup in her trembling hands and holds it out for him without a word.
Satriano offers her a soft smile and takes it, bringing it to his lips for a sip. “Mmm. Just as I remembered it. Grazie, Angelina.” He inclines his head toward the table. “It was lovely to see you, ladies. Please give my best to the rest of the Hawkes and let them know I’m back in town.”
His gaze sweeps over each and every one of us, pausing on Gage for a second before he turns and walks out as casually as he walked in.
Satriano is the king of making veiled threats, of using simple pleasantries to prove his point, and that’s just what he did during the entire conversation.
Anyone seated around us in The Grind would have been completely oblivious to what was happening at our table, that we were seconds away from potentially exchanging gunfire with the man they undoubtedly all thought was incredibly stylish and handsome.
I watch the door close behind him, and our men on the sidewalk step back, giving him a wide berth.
He walks to the curb and climbs into the back of a black SUV that pulls away the moment he’s inside.
Gage’s hand slides fully across my shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Who the fuck was that?”
“None of your business.”
“Bishop…”
I whip my head around and glare at him. “It’s none of your concern, Gage.”
Not now.
Not ever.
This is Hawke family business.
I look to all the girls, who all appear shaken—none more so than Astrid, who trembles in her chair. “We need to go. All of us.” Glancing over at Angie, I give her a tight smile. “Ang, shut down early. It’s time for a family meeting.”
GAGE
I tighten my grip on Bishop’s shoulder as she tries to stand, keeping her down in her seat. If I don’t make her stay for one second and explain what’s going on, she’s going to shut me out completely like she already attempted to more than once.
“Wait, Bishop. What the fuck just happened?”
She glances up at me, her eyes drifting to where my hand rests as if she’s debating physically removing it with force. “I suggest you take your hand off me, unless you want me to break your arm.”
Fuck.
The look she’s giving me tells me it isn’t an empty threat.
This isn’t the time to test that theory, either.
I slowly withdraw my hold on her as all the women at the table rise to their feet, murmuring to each other in hushed tones I can’t hear, but the panic and distress etched on their faces is unmistakable.
Angelina and Allie begin making their way around the café, letting the customers know they’re going to be closing down unexpectedly, while the rest of their cousins pull out their phones and start making calls.
“Who was that guy?”
Bishop pushes to her feet, only now pulling her hand from her gun. “None of your business.”
“Like hell it isn’t.”
I didn’t mean to say that so loudly, or for it to sound so possessive or so much like an order when Bishop isn’t the type of woman who appreciates them, but it’s too late to take it back now.
She glares at me, her tight jaw working, but I don’t back away, holding my ground and making it impossible for her to move from the table without physically moving me.
“It is my business if someone’s threatening you, Bishop.”
