Hawk saying they weren’t budging had to do with the fact that their first meeting with the two wives of the two men that were on two very different sides of this dirty cop situation had been postponed.
Though that wasn’t accurate considering the meeting was never rescheduled and they weren’t jumping on rescheduling.
So essentially, it had been canceled.
“Someone has gotten to them,” Axl suggested.
“We can’t know,” Hawk replied.
And they couldn’t. It easily could be cold feet that came with the desire to remain breathing and keep their children in that same state.
But it could be one of these fucks got to them, reminding them how they could be certain to keep breathing and keep their kids safe.
And even if their investigation was a joint effort with Cisco, Nightingale’s crew, and Hawk’s team, with Chaos Motorcycle Club offering support, they all had jobs, lives, other clients and couldn’t have someone on the women 24/7.
They had bugs on both.
But that wasn’t giving them anything, and whoever was leaning on them knew what they were doing.
The proof of that was that the best investigative team in Denver: Nightingale Investigations, the best scrapper crew: Chaos Motorcycle Club, and the best tactical team: Hawk and his men, not to mention five seriously invested cops, did not have dick.
The three men they had were dead.
Dead men couldn’t talk.
But their wives could.
They just weren’t.
Goddammit.
“So we’re in a holding pattern,” Boone stated impatiently. “But we suspect that whatever these assholes are up to, it isn’t long term. It’s a limited project. And they’re close to sealing the deal. So the longer we wait, the longer they’ve got to do that.”
None of the men said anything because there was no point in confirming what they all suspected.
In finding out from Cisco that they didn’t attempt to frame him for the first murder (that being Tony Crowley, good cop doing his own investigation into dirty ones) in order to get Cisco out of the way to take over his operations, the team was running with the theory that whatever was going down was one big score.
But at this point, everything was a theory, because, again, they had dick.
“Next moves?” Mag asked Hawk.
“We wait,” Hawk answered.
None of the men were at one with that but none of them said anything because they didn’t have a choice.
“If it lasts longer than tomorrow, I’ll get Mamá to apply some pressure to Lynn and Heidi. Not to freak them. Just to show them the way,” Hawk continued.
With nothing more to discuss, Hawk dismissed them.
Axl didn’t take long in saying good-bye to his buds.
He had an early reservation and not a lot of time to enjoy it before Hattie had to be at Smithie’s.
He headed home. Let himself in. Called to Cleo, who ignored him. Got his mail and ignored that. He then took a shower, with Cleo sitting outside the shower door, watching. He got out of the shower, which, as usual, sent Cleo scurrying.
He shaved, pulled a comb through his hair, picked a pair of dark gray trousers, a blue shirt and black shoes, and while he grabbed his wallet, phone and keys, Cleo showed some love, weaving through his ankles.
She did this mostly because she knew he was leaving, and it was an inconvenient time to give it.
She was like that.
So he picked her up, scratched her in one of precisely five places she liked to be scratched, under her chin (the others were behind her ears, her tailbone, her chest, and when she deigned to cuddle, she demanded tummy rubs).
She started purring, but he had to go, so he forced a kiss on her nose which got him the stink eye.
He put her down, smiling, nabbed his lint roller, dealt with the remains of his cat on his shirt, and then headed out to his Jeep.
Sitting in it, he texted Hattie that he was on his way, texted Sly that he was off duty, pulled out of his garage and drove to Hattie’s.
And he did it trying hard not to slam his fist into the roof of his Jeep like a douchebag because he felt the deep need to celebrate the fact that his ass was in his car on his way to Hattie’s to pick her up for a date.
Fucking finally.
He found a parking spot relatively close and hoofed it to her front door.
She didn’t make him wait, opening it almost immediately, beaming up at him and saying, “I’m ready! I just have to shove a couple of things into my bag that I forgot.”
She then whirled on one very high heel, the very short skirt of her dress flying out and up so he could almost see panties, and Axl didn’t move because he had to concentrate on fighting getting hard.
When he managed this feat, doing it even knowing not only did they not have time to take it there after their date since she had to get to work, but also he didn’t intend to take them there at all until he knew they were ready (mostly her on that, he was ready to fuck her about two months ago), he walked in.