Wild Hawk (34 page)

He hadn’t gone ten feet before he was soaked, water running down the back of his neck, the turned-up collar of his jacket—he’d left his coat behind, never having intended on this little expedition—useless against this kind of deluge. He told himself to abandon this ridiculous idea, but he kept walking. He found himself instinctively trying to protect the book under his jacket, and managed a laugh; he could probably throw the thing into the Arctic Ocean and it would be back the next day, dry as a bone and with his attempt at destruction neatly chronicled.

When he reached Aaron’s grave, he knew he’d made a big mistake. The sensation from the book, that unexplainable sense of peace and reassurance, seemed to strengthen. But again, it wasn’t his father he thought of but Joshua, and again he could almost see the man, nodding in encouragement, a small half smile curving his lips. It was as if here, at his father’s grave, his connection to this man who was his ancestor was even stronger. So strong that he wasn’t sure he could fight it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

He looked at the book he held. He’d pulled out the letter from Joshua; it was neatly folded in his inside jacket pocket, a spot that was oddly warm against the wet chill of the storm. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep it, only that it seemed very important somehow.

His gaze went to the gravestone, cold and dark and running wet with rain. To be angry at his father now was a useless, impotent thing. As, perhaps, it had always been. But if he gave that up, what did he have left?

“Damn you,” he whispered. “Damn you for dying before I had the chance to break you myself.”

With a fierce, arcing motion, he flung the book at the stone. It hit the second “a” in Aaron, then settled atop the first three letters, covering them. Jason stared down at the stone, a chill that went far beyond the storm whipping through him.

---on Hawk.

Three letters. The only difference between a gravestone that read Aaron Hawk and one that read Jason Hawk.

APPROPRIATE WEATHER, Kendall thought. Befitting what she had to do. Not that sunshine would make admitting how badly she’d bungled things—and what a fool she’d been—any easier. She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to do this, except that she’d always been utterly honest with Aaron, and it seemed that she owed him this now.

She drove carefully in the driving rain, keeping her eyes steadfastly straight ahead as she passed the section of the guardrail she’d nearly gone over. She’d been driving with her eye more on the rearview mirrors than the road, it seemed like, but there was no sign she could see of anyone following her.

She decided to forgo the main entrance, and parked on a side road that would make the walk much shorter. Still, she was drenched from the knees down well before she got to the quiet place on the hill that Aaron had chosen—“So I can keep an eye on things,” he’d said; the spot had a view straight down the valley to Sunridge.

The heaviness of the rain made her think she was seeing things when she saw the huddled shape at the side of Aaron’s grave. But as she got closer, having to step carefully over the slick ground, she knew she wasn’t.

Jason sat cross-legged in the short grass beside the headstone, seemingly heedless of the fact that he was obviously soaked to the skin. He was shivering; Kendall could see the little tremors that swept him every few moments. His arms were wrapped around himself, as if that could warm him.

He didn’t seem to realize she was there. He was staring downward, but didn’t seem to be focused on anything. His hair was as wet as it had been from the shower this morning, but now clung to his neck and forehead in dripping strands.

“Jason?”

He looked up at her, startled. And in that moment of surprise, before any of his formidable defenses could snap into place, Kendall saw something she’d never thought to see. She saw the living image of the lonely, frightened boy he had once been. The boy who had once stood beside another grave, facing the death of his mother and the fact that he was now more alone than any child should ever have to be.

And in that moment Kendall knew how much of Jason’s toughness stemmed from that time, and from his determination never to be scared again. No matter what it took, no matter what he had to do. She hadn’t been wrong, not about this. It
was
self-protection that had made him develop the ruthless facade. The question was, had the facade become the man?

Another shiver made his teeth chatter. She saw him clench his jaw, and wondered how many nights sixteen-year-old Jason had spent being this cold, when he hadn’t had the money for the bus or the ferry, or to get to the airport where he could get warm and scrounge through other people’s leavings for food scraps.

As difficult as her life had been, she’d lived through nothing as grim as Jason had. It made what he’d done, what he’d become, even more impressive. Something clawed at her, some mixture of love, compassion, and bitter longing that dug into her with talons as strong and merciless as those of his namesake.

She loved him. Fool that she was, she loved him. She loved that part of him that was Aaron, that part of him that was Hawk, and most of all that part of him that was Jason, the part he never let anyone see, but that he had revealed to her in bits and pieces, as the Hawk story had been revealed in the book. She knew how cold, how harsh he could be, but she also knew he was capable of tenderness, of laughter. And somewhere, deep beneath the shell that protected his heart from the world, she knew there was still that scared, lonely boy, who could love if only he could be sure he wouldn’t be hurt, if he could be sure the one he loved wouldn’t abandon him, as everyone else had. The heart of this Hawk would not be easily won.

As if he’d suddenly realized what his face was showing, or as if he’d recognized the look in her eyes, he quickly looked away from her.

She knelt beside him. As if he’d asked, she said, “I came to apologize to Aaron for failing so miserably.”

His head snapped around, and he stared at her. “You didn’t fail. You carried out his last wishes.”

She shook her head, ignoring the water that was now streaming down her face. “It was never his wish that Hawk be destroyed.” He looked away again. “That is what you’re going to do, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” It came out harshly, as cold as the rain, as dark as the sky producing it. “I’ve been buying Hawk stock for years. A little bit here, a little bit there, but never so much that I had to register it with the SEC. More than half those private investment groups are mine.”

“And you really have control of the board? Four votes out of the seven?”

“Paul was more than willing to front for me, after I helped his son. I loaned Martin that money, and in turn he agreed to vote as instructed. I own a controlling interest in Corelli’s business, so he has no choice but to cooperate. And I funded the Alexander group myself, as a silent partner.”

“Very slick, Jason,” she said quietly. “Aaron would be proud.”

“I’m going to take over and then dismantle Hawk Industries, piece by piece. I’ve spent my life planning this day.” He looked at her again then, steadily. He looked more than ever like his father now. Predatory. Ruthless. “Are you going to try and stop me, Kendall?”

“No. I suppose I could try, out of loyalty to Aaron, but somehow I don’t think he’d want that. He wouldn’t want me to fight you, Jason. I think he would have handed Hawk over to you, if he could have, and if you’d wanted it.”

“And you?” The words came out of him as if forced, as if he’d fought very hard to hold it back. “What do you want?”

She looked at him for a long, silent moment, knowing what she felt was clearly readable on her face, and not caring. “What I can’t have.” She shrugged, as if it meant nothing, as, someday, she prayed it would. “I’ll get over it. Maybe next time I’ll approach it a little more like you. Like a business deal. Value given for value received. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Kendall—” He blinked rapidly. Rainwater in his eyes, she was certain. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I have to do this.”

“I know.” She did know. She knew that nothing mattered more to him than his revenge. Nothing. And no one. Including her.

“I  . . . care about you. I didn’t like . . . keeping things from you.”

He said it with some surprise, as if he’d never expected to feel that way. But it didn’t matter, Kendall thought. Nothing could sway him from the course he’d set. Nothing could take the Hawk’s eyes off his prey.

“Just remember something, Jason,” she said. “The Hawks aren’t just a company, or even just a name. And if you don’t understand that by now, then you’ve missed the whole point of this.” She gestured at the book that lay, sodden now, atop Aaron’s headstone. “And Jenna and Joshua and all the others . . . it was all for nothing.”

He shivered again, violently. But he said nothing, and after a moment she stood up.

“Don’t you see, Jason? If you keep on, never feeling, never trusting, always just moving on, eventually it’s too late to ever go home. You’re going to wind up just like your father did. Dying cold and alone and full of regrets.”

He shivered again, but didn’t break his silence. Kendall felt tears brimming, and although she knew they wouldn’t show amid the streaks of rain, she wiped at her eyes. Then she looked at the grave marker.

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” she said softly. Jason flinched as if she’d struck him.

She walked away through the rain, leaving him huddled there by his father’s grave.

Chapter Twenty-four

THERE WAS NO reason for him to be this edgy, Jason thought as he paced the anteroom outside the main conference room. Everything was going like clockwork. The security guard at Hawk Manufacturing, where the board meetings were traditionally held, had gaped at him when he’d walked in, and had surreptitiously glanced at the portrait of Aaron that hung on the wall in the entry, then back at Jason’s face in shock, but he hadn’t tried to stop him.

Probably because of that shock, Jason thought. Or perhaps the paperwork he’d shown him from the Alexander group, listing him as their voting representative for this meeting.

He’d waited outside the gates, watching, as the others arrived. Corelli was first; then moments later Alice’s limo had appeared. She was accompanied by a too-well-dressed blond man who, judging from Kendall’s description, was Whitewood, the attorney Alice had bought.

Kendall.

He jerked his thoughts out of that worn avenue; if he started thinking about her, he’d lose his concentration, and he couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t let anything distract him from the goal, not now that it was finally within reach. But the memory of the last time he’d seen her, walking away from him in the rain, was indelibly carved into his mind, and he couldn’t seem to shake it.

He turned and began to cross the room in the other direction. Alice would be making her pitch about now, he thought, making her assurances to all the board members that things would continue as before, that she would step into her late husband’s shoes so smoothly that they needn’t bother themselves about his death at all. She would no doubt attempt to take credit for whatever profitable decisions had been made in the past. She would also, if he had predicted accurately, make some grandiose promises about future earnings, if only they would give her a free hand.

It was then, if all went as planned, that Paul would signal him. And the victory he’d been planning for, waiting for, all his life would finally be his.

Even as he thought it, he saw the door open slightly. He could hear Alice’s querulous voice as Paul glanced out, found him, and nodded. The man retreated back into the room, and Jason took a deep breath.

Let the retribution begin
, he thought.

When he walked into the room, Alice gasped, surging to her feet. Whitewood looked shocked. The two older men, the original investors, gaped at him and then muttered to each other. But no one else in the room was surprised; in fact, they were busy studying their hands, the table before them, or their coffee cups, looking at anything but him. He hadn’t bothered to dress for this meeting; he’d thought taking Alice down while wearing the very jeans and boots she’d sniffed at would be much more appropriate.

“Gentlemen,” Jason said affably.

“How dare you!”

Alice was the picture of righteous indignation. Jason smiled. This was going to be sweet. Very, very sweet. That image of Kendall flitted through his mind, but he refused to let it distract him.

“I believe we’ve been through this before,” he said.

“Get out, or I’ll have you thrown out!”

“I think not. I might, however, consider having you thrown out.”

“Call security.” She snapped out the order at no one in particular. No one moved.

Jason glanced around the table. “Gentlemen, I think your business here has come to a conclusion. Thank you very much for coming.”

“You arrogant—”

Alice’s words broke off when three of the men at the table, looking more than a little grateful at the opportunity to escape, rose and began to head for the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she exclaimed at their retreating backs.

“There’s no need for them to be here,” Jason explained, his tone as gentle as if he were explaining to a child. He glanced at the two older men, who were still seated and gaping at him. “Feel free to leave as well, if you wish. Your presence is, I’m afraid, irrelevant.”

“That’s ridiculous. We’re holding a board meeting here. Get out.”

The men who had reached the door glanced back at Alice’s exclamation, but Jason nodded, and they filed out without speaking.

“This is outrageous!” She came around the end of the table. “I demand—”

“You’re in no position to demand anything, Alice. Not anymore.”

Slowly, with great flair, he pulled a notarized document from his pocket and tossed it down on the table in front of her. “I presume you’re familiar with the Alexander group?”

She brushed the papers aside with a regal gesture, not even glancing at them. “Of course I am. I run this business now, and I know every facet of it. What has that got to do—”

“They’re mine.”

She glanced at the papers then. “What are you talking—”

“And here,” he said, tossing another folded document on the table, “is Barker’s proxy. It’s mine.”

“This is—”

“And Burr’s. It’s mine.”

“You—”

“And Corelli’s. It’s mine.”

Alice appeared shocked into silence at last. She sank down into the chair Corelli had vacated.

“That’s four. Out of seven.” He glanced at the two men who had remained seated, and who were now staring at him, realization in their eyes. “As I said, your presence here is irrelevant. As,” he added, looking back at Alice, “is yours.”

“You bastard.” She spat it out with all the venom of the deadly black widow spider she made him think of.

“Exactly,” Jason agreed. He glanced at the two astounded men who sat as if transfixed. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jason Hawk.”

He’d intended to say it, for the sheer enjoyment of watching Alice’s reaction, but now that he had, the strangest feeling came over him. A feeling of connection stronger than any he’d felt when holding the book, stronger even than when he’d read Joshua’s letter.

He tried to ignore it, telling himself it meant nothing. Even the book seemed to have gone dormant on him since he’d tossed it at Aaron’s grave; when he’d picked it up again, and opened it rather defiantly to the last page of writing, only one line had been added. And one that made no sense, talking about how all of Jason Hawk’s plans, from his life to his revenge, would change. He wasn’t about to change anything, not when he was so close.

But the sensation persisted now, and it rattled him; he was glad he’d been looking at the men instead of Alice.

The two men noticed nothing; they scrambled out of their chairs and beat a hasty retreat. Whitewood withdrew to a far corner, keeping the large conference table between them as if he feared Jason would physically come after him. Jason looked back at Alice.

“And just in case you’re thinking of some kind of counter move, Alice dear, I think you should know that I hold a larger percentage of stock than you do in every Hawk operation except this one.”

“What?” She rose swiftly again. “That’s impossible!”

He grinned at her.

“It’s that little bitch, isn’t it?” Alice exclaimed. “She helped you. Did she turn what Aaron left her over to you? Or just agree not to side with me?”

“Kendall has nothing to do with this.” He saw her eyes narrow, and swore silently at himself for what the swiftness and urgency of his response had betrayed to this vicious woman. “I’ve been planning this since I was sixteen.” His mouth twisted. “Since you had my mother killed.”

That distracted her from Kendall, and Jason felt a spurt of relief. He had no time to dwell on what his reaction meant, what it had betrayed to himself. He had to concentrate on Alice. She looked suddenly wary, even glancing over to the corner of the room where Whitewood was staring at her.

“The Northwest Limited Partnership?” Jason said, drawing her attention again. “Mine. Maxlight? Mine. The Ulysses group? Mine. Want to hear more? I have quite a list.”

Jason folded his arms across his chest and stared down at his father’s widow. She was red-faced and sputtering, looking for all the world like a caricature of herself. Victory was in his hands.

“It’s over, Alice,” he said. “I’m going to take apart your world the way you once took mine apart.”

She glared at him, but it was bluster, an impotent gesture. Jason waited for the feeling of triumph, the flood of satisfaction that he’d done it, the rush he’d been waiting for for twenty years.

But as he looked into her eyes, those dark, vicious eyes that were nearly the color of that aptly named spider, he saw only the anger and bitterness of an old woman. And a hatred for him that should have chilled him, had it not been radiating from this woman who seemed somehow to have shrunk in stature in the past few moments.

She’s as bitter as you are. Aaron never loved her . . . she loved him as much as she could ever love anyone, and he never loved her back.

Kendall’s words, he thought, coming back to him as they did so often.

It hit him again, this time full force and with devastating clarity. Kendall, walking away from him. Walking away, after as much as admitting she loved him. Or had.

“You bastard,” Alice said, so furiously spittle flew from her lips with the words. “I’ll see you dead before I let you lay a finger on what’s mine!”

You’re a symbol to her . . . of what she never had from her husband.

Kendall, who had done nothing but try to fight for him, for what she thought he should have, for what she thought was fair. Kendall, who had more nerve, more raw, pure courage than he’d ever thought of having. Kendall, who had never given up, who had absorbed every setback and come back fighting. Kendall, who had given herself to him so completely, and had made him feel things he’d never felt before, made him wish he believed in things he’d never believed in before.

Kendall, who understood far better than he what it meant to be a Hawk.

The Hawks aren’t just a company, or even just a name. And if you don’t understand that by now, then you’ve missed the whole point . . . and Jenna and Joshua and all the others . . . it was all for nothing.

Kendall, who had been foolish enough to fall in love with him.

“Damn you!” Alice shouted. “I’ll see every single piece of Hawk Industries burned to the ground before I’ll see
you
take it!”

Alice, who hated him more than she loved Hawk Industries, and probably more than she had loved Aaron. Aaron, who had been the true target of his revenge, but who was now beyond his reach. Aaron, the one his vengeance had been precisely tailored for.

It hit him then, what was wrong. He had planned this, all these years, for Aaron. Specifically for Aaron, striking where it would hurt his father the most. But this wasn’t Aaron; it was Alice.

The book had said his plans would change. Even his plans for revenge. He’d dismissed it, but it had been so right, all along . . .

No, damn it.
He wasn’t going to let such craziness affect him. Wasn’t going to let it change his course. To let the book tell him what to do would be crazy. And yet . . .

This wasn’t Aaron; it was Alice. And while dismantling Hawk Industries, which would have affected Aaron like nothing else, would hurt Alice as well, he suddenly realized there was something else that would hurt her even more. He should have seen it before. He considered it, but only for a split second; it was so right there was no question in his mind. He didn’t even care that he was falling in line with the book’s predictions. Maybe the thing was even causing this; he didn’t know anymore. He only knew this felt right.

He sat on the edge of the table, leaning forward to say to her almost gently, “Would you like to hear the timetable? Would you like to know how long it will be until Hawk Propulsion goes under, how long before CeramHawk is broken up into bits and sold to the highest bidder?”

“You bastard,” she whispered. He saw then what he’d wanted to see in her face: the sure and certain knowledge that he had done it, and that Alice Hawk knew it.

“Yes,” he said. “We’ve already established that, haven’t we? I’m Aaron’s bastard. His only child. The son of the woman he had a passionate affair with for seven years, the only woman he ever loved.”

Her hand came up swiftly. He caught her wrist and held it, blocking the slap.

“You know it’s true, don’t you? He loved her; he always loved her. You know it. It’s why you tossed a yellow rose into his grave.”

He stared down into her face, seeing the malevolence there, the pure, raging hatred.

“It’s why you killed her, isn’t it? You weren’t afraid she’d come back; you had no reason to be, she’d done everything you asked. For me. But you killed her anyway. You murdered her, because you couldn’t stand the fact that Aaron had loved her so much, and he’d never loved you at all.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice a low, venomous hiss. “And I’ll kill you, too, if I have to to stop you, and that bitch along with you. And I don’t give a damn about the price.”

Jason drew back. He
was
right. There was nothing he could do that would hurt Alice Hawk more.

He stood up.

“It’s mine, Alice. All of it. I’ve taken it all, everything you value, value so much that you killed for it.”

She swore, low and vicious.

His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “But do you know what I’m going to do?”

He gathered up the papers on the table. And with a motion very like washing his hands, he dropped them all in her lap. She instinctively grasped at them, then turned startled, suspicious eyes on his face.

“That’s right, Alice. I’m giving it back to you. You can go on playing your little games. But every minute of every hour of every day, you’re going to remember one thing. You owe it all to me. Aaron’s bastard son, by the woman he loved. You’re going to go through the rest of your miserable life knowing you’re living on charity. Jason Hawk’s charity.”