“Archer knows I’m here.” Hawk’s tone was cold, and it quickly chased the smile from Davis’s face as well as the blood.
Davis became pale. “The President said?—”
“Not to kill you,” Hawk interrupted. “But he said nothing about maiming or causing grievous bodily harm.”
“Now, wait just a minute,” Davis said, his face flushing. “You can’t come in here and threaten me. I’ll call hotel security.”
“Go for it. They won’t respond. My former boss owns this hotel. I just met him in the lobby downstairs. He said he’d do me a solid and look the other way… so, we’re on our own up here.” It was Hawk’s turn to smile smugly.
Davis suddenly reached under his blazer as if going for a gun. Hawk was on him in two steps and had him face down on the carpet two seconds after that, with one hand wrenched behind his back. “You think you’re going to threaten me with a gun? Big fucking mistake.”
“Okay, okay,” Davis yelled. “You’re hurting me.”
“I don’t give a shit.”
“What do you want? Why are you here?” Davis tried again.
“You willing to deal?”
“I don’t know what you want.”
Armstrong groaned and sat up. He leaned on the chair and then lifted his head. “Hey. You can’t do that.”
“Shut up,” Hawk commented. “You need to go and fix your face. You’re bleeding all over the place.” And he was. Hawk had cut the man’s jaw with his punch, and now blood was running down his face onto his clothing. “You want to watch it. The hotel will charge you if you get blood on the carpet.”
Hawk leaned over Davis. “Now I’m going to let you up, and you’re going to sit on the couch and tell me what I want to know. You can fight it, but personally, I don’t mind making you suffer.”
Davis grunted as Hawk searched him for weapons and pulled out a small handgun from under the other man’s blazer. “You try anything, and I will enjoy making it hurt,” Hawk reminded him as he let the other man go.
Davis climbed to his feet and straightened his clothing. He glared at Hawk but went over and sat down on the couch. “Go clean yourself up,” he snarled to his assistant.
The other man got unsteadily to his feet and teetered off up the stairs.
“Now,” Hawk said. “You are going to tell me why you called the D.A.’s office and told them Gage Callahan broke into the Met.”
Davis stared at him, mouth hanging open. He shook himself. “That’s what this is about?” he asked incredulously. “A phone call to the D.A.’s office?”
“Yes,” Hawk retorted, trying to keep his cool. This man made his skin crawl. He wanted nothing more than to snap his neck for killing Remy’s grandfather. Among his assorted other offenses.
Davis let out a bark of laughter and sat back more comfortably on the couch. “Well, now, why is that so important to you?”
“Davis, I’m only going to remind you this one time that I’m asking the questions. You are answering them. If you don’t do so quickly, I will be forced to inflict pain on you… and believe me when I tell you I will enjoy it immensely.”
Davis frowned and lost his bravado. “Fine,” he snarled. “Yes, I called the D.A. and told him a Callahan had broken into the Met.”
“Why?” Hawk demanded.
“It was a favor to a friend.”
“Who was the friend? I thought you didn’t have many of those left after word got around about you in D.C.”
Davis’s face turned a ruddy color, and he swore under his breath.
Hawk, who was standing over the other man, crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “I’m waiting.”
“Teddy.”
“Teddy who?”
