Chapter 64: A Personal Vendetta
Atal Mountain Shooting Range
The sound of gunfire echoed through the range as Hawk fired his last ten bullets. Removing his noise-canceling earmuffs, he ejected the magazine and cleared the chamber.
The instructor overseeing the live-fire test approached and examined Hawk’s target. “Perfect score again, 100 rings. You’ve passed your live-fire assessment, buddy. I’ve got nothing left to teach you.”
Signing Hawk’s certification form, the instructor added, “Best of luck out there.”
“Thanks.” Hawk handed over a tip, took the signed form, and submitted it to the range supervisor.
With the morning session complete, Hawk had one more theory class in the afternoon—an eight-hour mandatory course since online options weren’t available.
After changing into a fresh jacket and securing his gun per regulations, Hawk planned to grab lunch. Before he could leave, his phone rang with an unfamiliar number.
Answering, Hawk spoke briefly before quickly heading to his car and driving to the West LAPD station.West LAPD Station
Eric Eason had been arrested and called Hawk for help, asking him to find a lawyer and explicitly warning him not to tell Katherine.
Hawk contacted a lawyer he’d worked with while registering his studio, and they met at the station 30 minutes later.
After completing the necessary paperwork, Hawk was allowed into the holding area where Eric was being detained.
Eric’s face was bruised, and he radiated anger as if he might explode at any moment.
“What happened?” Hawk asked, noting that Eric’s injuries weren’t as severe as Johnson’s had been.
Grabbing Hawk’s arm tightly, Eric seethed, “Miller Collins! Do you remember him? That NFL star wide receiver from the San Diego Chargers? He harassed me in the locker room—grabbed me, touched me. I fought back, but he beat me up.”
Eric’s voice cracked with frustration. “I couldn’t beat him. I just couldn’t…”
Hawk remembered Miller Collins—a physical beast, like all pro football players.
Eric continued, his rage building. “That creep is a serial offender. He spilled water on my pants, pretended it was an accident, then started wiping me down and grabbed me there—he even tried to pull it out and opened his mouth!”
Growing more furious as he recounted the incident, Eric added, “When I resisted, he called the cops first, accusing me of harassing him! And some guy in the locker room backed him up, saying I was the one who touched him!”
Hawk believed Eric. Despite his complaints about “seafood,” Eric was no closet case.
“This is humiliating,” Eric groaned. “I can’t let Katherine find out. I had no choice but to call you.”
“Don’t worry,” Hawk assured him. “You’re the victim here, not the one who should feel ashamed.”
Eric looked at Hawk, his face softening slightly. “I knew you’d believe me.”
Just then, the lawyer returned.
“How does it look?” Hawk asked.
The lawyer replied, “The situation isn’t too bad. Miller Collins has decided not to press charges and has already left with his lawyer. Once we complete some paperwork, Eric can leave too.”
Eric shot to his feet. “I’m the victim!”
The lawyer remained calm. “The evidence isn’t in your favor. There are no cameras in the locker room, and Collins has water stains and your handprints on his clothes. The sole witness supports his story.”
Hawk held Eric back, turning to the lawyer. “Handle the paperwork. We’ll leave as soon as it’s done.”
Back in the Car
After leaving the station, Hawk drove Eric to Tracy Gym in Westwood to retrieve his belongings.
On the way, Eric fumed. “That witness must know Miller Collins. If we can find him, we can clear my name!”
Hawk countered, “If Collins is a serial offender, that guy is probably his accomplice. Finding him won’t help.”
Defeated, Eric slumped in his seat.
“You’ll need a different approach to get back at him,” Hawk advised.
Eric’s mind wandered to his old rival, George Hanson, and he began brainstorming a sophisticated form of revenge.
At the gym, Eric retrieved his bag and returned to find the manager waiting with an envelope.
“Mr. Eason,” the manager said curtly, “due to your actions causing distress to other patrons, Tracy Gym can no longer accommodate you.”
Handing over the envelope, she added, “This contains your refunded fees.”
Eric snatched the envelope angrily but held back his words, storming out instead.
Hawk followed, giving the manager a cold glance before leaving.
Once they were back in the car, Hawk tried to console Eric. “Don’t let scum like that get to you. We’ll figure something out.”
“I just don’t know what to do,” Eric admitted, his eyes red. “And don’t tell Katherine about this—it’d destroy my last shred of dignity.”
“This stays between us,” Hawk promised.
Eric was visibly struggling, unable to shake the humiliation. His creative energy for scriptwriting had evaporated, replaced by anger and frustration.
Eventually, he turned to Hawk with a desperate plea. “Your West Coast Media Studio can handle projects for Johnson. Can I hire you too?”
Hawk immediately understood. “You want me to take on Miller Collins, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Eric admitted. “I need to get back at him, or I won’t be able to move on.”
Eric’s faith in Hawk had only grown since the incidents in Park City. “Collins is an NFL star. He’s within your studio’s scope, right? I have $30,000…”
Hawk raised a hand to stop him. “I can’t take your money.”
Eric was stunned, slumping back into his seat in despair.
“You’re my friend,” Hawk explained. “If someone bullies my friend, I won’t stand by. But don’t talk about paying me for this.”
Eric protested, “I can’t let you work for free.”
Hawk smiled. “Did you charge me a penny when you introduced me to Johnson? Would you?”
Eric fell silent.
Hawk continued, “Don’t feel guilty. There’s a chance I could profit off Collins during this process, but even if I do, I won’t share it with you. However, if any major expenses come up, you’ll need to cover those.”
“Deal,” Eric agreed.
“Forget about extreme measures like shooting or breaking his legs,” Hawk said, amused. “We have bright futures ahead of us—no point going to jail over a creep.”
“What’s your plan?” Eric asked.
“For now, tell me what you want so I can plan accordingly.”
“I want to ruin him,” Eric said firmly.
“I understand.” Hawk dialed Edward. “Stop wasting time outside. Head back to the studio—we’ve got news to manufacture.”
Edward perked up instantly. “A new target, boss?”
“Exactly. Get back quick—I’m on my way.”
Hanging up, Hawk asked Eric, “You won’t be able to work on your script until this is resolved, right?”
“Not a word,” Eric admitted.
Hawk grinned. “Then join me. You wanted to experience my work for inspiration—now’s your chance. You’ll get the satisfaction of revenge, and trust me, it’s a hundred times better than sex.”
Eric finally smiled. “I’m in!”
Back at the Studio
Once Edward returned, Hawk called a team meeting.
He pinned a magazine poster of Miller Collins to the whiteboard.
“This is our next target,” Hawk began. “NFL star wide receiver for the San Diego Chargers. We know too little about him right now. Before starting any plans, we need a thorough background check.”
Edward and Eric received their tasks.
“Edward, comb through newspapers and magazines from the past three years for stories about Collins. Eric, reach out to Johnson for public information about Collins’ team dynamics, endorsements, and business ties.”
Hawk assigned himself the task of investigating Collins’ family and social circle.
“Let’s move, gentlemen,” Hawk said, clapping his hands.
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