by CW Browning
Viper's fingers closed around the handle of her Ruger, tucked between the mattress and box spring. She rolled over swiftly, withdrawing the gun in the same movement and aiming it at the shadow standing near the window. Her finger stilled on the trigger when she saw a familiar outline of broad shoulders highlighted by the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains.
“Sweet Lord, you're living dangerously, Hawk,” she hissed, sliding her finger off the trigger and lowering the pistol.
“I was starting to wonder if you were going to wake up,” Hawk retorted. “I've been here for almost a minute.”
“I woke up the second you came in,” Viper muttered. She set the gun on the nightstand and sat up with a yawn.
“You have a full house,” Hawk said, crossing the room silently toward the bed. He was dressed in black and moved with that jungle-cat grace she knew so well. “What's going on?”
“You don't want to know,” Alina muttered, running a hand through her hair. She leaned back on the headboard and watched as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Where were you?”
“Taking care of some business,” Hawk answered vaguely. “Where's Raven?”
Alina glanced at the empty perch in the corner of the bedroom and grimaced slightly.
“Out sulking,” she said. “There was an incident earlier and he wasn't happy with the results.”
Damon raised an eyebrow.
“What happened?”
“Angela brought her cat into the house and I stopped him from ripping it apart,” Alina answered bluntly.
Damon stared at her for a beat before his lips curved into a grin.
“I keep missing all the fun,” he murmured. “What's the gunny doing here?”
“Angela thought it would be a good idea to have a Federal agent in the house. She seems to think she's putting me in danger by being here,” Viper told him, her lips twitching humorously.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Damon stared at her for a beat before his shoulders started to shake silently with laughter.
“Harry would love this,” he said chuckled.
Alina smiled reluctantly and shook her head slightly.
“Harry can never hear about this. I would never hear the end of it. I don't know how much longer I can play the normal life card with Angela,” she admitted. “This is more complicated than I thought it would be. Charlie would be appalled if he knew.”
“You know, I don't have these problems on my ranch,” Damon murmured with an unholy grin on his face. “No one bothers me and no one questions what I do. I think it must be Jersey. Y'all are a breed onto yourselves here.”
“Did you just 'y'all' me?” Viper demanded, her eyes dancing.
Damon winked.
“Tell me about Jessica,” he said, changing the subject abruptly.
Pulling his Beretta from his back holster, he set it on the nightstand next to her Ruger before stretching out on the bed next to her. He propped his shoulders against the headboard and turned his head to look at her, his face inches from hers. Alina raised an eyebrow.
“Comfortable?” she asked politely.
He smiled slowly.
“Very.”
“Jessica is somewhere safe,” Viper told him, ignoring the wicked grin on his face. “Jenaro has her son.”
“What?” The amusement disappeared from Hawk's face at her words. “Where?”
“I don't know. He took him last week to ensure her cooperation. He's had her running errands for him and has been using her address for IDs, etc. She's done everything he asked for fear of what he will do to her son.”
“Hell.” Damon frowned ferociously and stared across the dark bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest. “How old is he?”
“Seven.” Viper leaned her head back. “If he's still alive, he could be anywhere. You know the cartels are human-traffickers. He could be halfway around the world by now.”
“Do you think that's what he did?” Hawk asked, shooting her a sharp look.
Viper hesitated for a second, then slowly shook her head.
“No,” she answered. “I think he's using him here somehow. If Jenaro wanted to sell a child, Jessica has a four year old daughter who would make him more money. I have the feeling the boy's still close by.”
“If he is, then Jenaro has him stashed away somewhere, out of sight.” Damon rubbed his jaw tiredly. “I've been watching them and there's no sign of a child there.”
Viper glanced at him sharply.
“You found him?” she asked.
Hawk's smile was cold and deadly.
“Of course,” he said softly.
“And you haven't seen the boy?” Viper pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I wonder what he's up to.”
“The child makes things more complicated,” Hawk murmured. He stacked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “I'm assuming you told Jessica you would find him?”
“I didn't tell her anything,” Viper retorted, “but I will find him. I'm not going to let someone like Gomez get away with her son.”
“Just remember, Jenaro's mine,” Hawk told her, his voice like ice.
“I'll do my best,” she said, unfazed by the harshness in his voice.
“Anything new with the Fearless Feds?” Damon asked, changing the subject again.
“Yes, but I don't know what it is. They came here tonight for a reason, but never got around to addressing it. They weren't expecting Angela and Michael. They did drop a name tonight. Lowell Kwan. I'll run it in the morning.”
“Lowell Kwan?” Damon glanced at her.
“Mmm.” Alina yawned. “They think he's the one who was running Rodrigo.”
There was a scraping noise on the roof and they both looked up as the skylight swung open. Raven dropped into the room and onto his perch, shook out his feathers, and looked at them curiously.
“The prodigal bird returns,” Damon murmured. “Should I be worried?”
Alina smiled faintly as Raven bobbed his head and settled down on his perch to clean under his feathers.
“I've told you already. He likes you,” she replied. “Michael had to call me earlier because Raven wouldn't let John up on the deck. When I got here, John was sitting in the grass and Raven was standing guard on the banister.”
“Good bird,” Damon said to the hawk.
Raven lifted his head to nod at Damon, then went back to cleaning his feathers.
Alina chuckled and settled back down under the covers.
“He has his moments,” she murmured contentedly.
Chapter Eighteen
The sun was just starting to rise, lighting the sky with a pale gray tinge, when birds started chirping outside. Alina let go of the wispy tendrils of sleep still clinging to her consciousness and rolled over.
“Ooof.”
Her eyes popped open as she rolled into a warm, solid wall of skin. Damon was laying with his back to her, fast asleep under the covers. She frowned at the strange feeling of contentment that washed over her as she inhaled the warm, comfortable smell of his skin. Had she gone to sleep with him there? And why did it feel so right to have him sleeping next to her?
Alina stared at the back of his shoulders, resisting the sudden urge to trace the long scar that ran down his back. It was an old scar, and even though she had seen it before, it still served to remind her of their inescapable mortality. They survived only through the will of fate and luck, she and Hawk, and one day they would face a wound that would leave no scar, only their memory. It was a statistical probability she had known before she walked through the doors of the training facility five years ago. She willingly accepted it, deciding then the risk was well worth the opportunity to fight for those who could not fight for themselves. She and Hawk were two of a few, a select, who would do the impossible to eliminate the untouchable, even if it meant giving their lives. They did what others could not do, knowing the price they would pay would be greater than what most were willing to conte
mplate. It was who they were. It was what they did. And it had never bothered her.
Until now.
Alina lifted her eyes from the faded scar on Hawk's back with a slight frown. Absurdly, she thought of two bull mastiffs on a ranch somewhere out in the middle of Boondocks, Nowhere, USA. Who would take care of them if Hawk didn't come home? A shaft of something painful sliced through the contentment and Alina scowled.
What was it about Jersey that made her forget who she was? There was no place in her life for thoughts like these. Viper had a job to do, and so did Hawk.
Alina poked him in the back sharply with her finger.
“What?” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.
“You're in my bed,” she told him crossly.
Damon rolled onto his back and turned his head to look at her. Too late, Alina realized she had been better off staring at his back. His dark hair fell over his forehead in disarray and his eyes were startlingly blue in a face still flushed from sleep. His jaw was lined with dark stubble and he scratched it absently, yawning widely.
“You say that like it's a bad thing,” he said, his full lips curving into a grin as she glowered at him.
Ignoring the sudden jump in her heart rate, Viper sat up, putting some distance between them.
“I don't remember inviting you,” she said. Any menacing effect that statement may have had was lost when she slipped into a jaw-cracking yawn.
Damon watched her lazily, his gaze unreadable.
“I don't remember asking,” he retorted. Viper glanced at him, her eyes flashing, and he grinned unabashedly. “In fact, I don't even remember falling asleep,” he added.
Viper's flash of annoyance evaporated and she chuckled reluctantly.
“Neither do I,” she admitted, tossing the down comforter aside and swinging her legs out of bed. “You'd better get moving before the natives start stirring. The last thing I need is Angela seeing you slink out of my bedroom.”
“Angela?” Damon propped himself up with pillows and watched as she headed toward the master bathroom. His eyes slipped to her long legs appreciatively. “I thought you'd be more worried about your Marine.”
Alina glanced over her shoulder, laughter lighting her dark eyes and making them glow.
“I can handle Michael,” she replied. “Angela, however, is a whole other matter.”
“Don't tell me Viper is afraid of a banker!” Hawk murmured, his eyes dancing.
Her response was to hold up the finger as she disappeared into the bathroom. Damon chuckled and glanced up to the perch in the corner of the bedroom.
“Is she always this moody in the morning?” he asked the hawk conversationally. Raven lifted his beak from where it was buried in his feathers and blinked at him. “That's what I thought.”
Damon glanced at his watch and yawned again, shaking the lingering remnants of sleep from his head. He swung his legs out of the bed and reached over to pick up his Beretta, tucking it into the back of his jeans. He smiled faintly as his glance fell on Viper's Ruger. It seemed completely natural to have the two guns sitting side by side on the bedside table. Too natural.
Damon shook his head slightly and stood up. Things were getting more and more complicated with Viper daily. While he was perfectly willing to explore this attraction between them and see where it led, he was also acutely aware of the dangers of engaging in a serious relationship with her. Not only would a relationship increase both their risks of exposure, but it would inevitably become a distraction neither of them could afford. Right now, when he left her, he was able to set Viper completely out of his mind and focus on his job. Damon knew that would become more and more difficult if they continued down this road. It was only a matter of time before one, or both, of them allowed themselves to become distracted.
“What a mess,” he muttered and pulled his shirt over his head.
Two months ago, he was on an old goat trail in the mountains above Lima, Peru when he was blind-sided with the sudden realization that he was in love with Viper. Damon knew it would be complicated when he boarded the private jet that carried him back to the United States and into her orbit. He had been as powerless to stop that driving force then as he was now.
The feeling of contentment that had engulfed him since he opened his eyes next to her evaporated as the sun rose on a new day. Of all the women in the world for him to fall for, it had to be her. The one woman in the world he couldn't intimidate, couldn't deceive and, worst of all, couldn't ignore. He had never been able to ignore her. She had always been there, poking and prodding deep in his subconscious, surfacing just long enough to remind him that he wasn't alone, that there was someone else who was fighting just as fiercely and losing just as much of herself. Viper had become his mirror over the years. Each time he saw her, she reflected his own shadows back to him. If there was one other person on this God-forsaken earth who knew what monsters really lurked in the darkness, that person was Viper. She fought them too.
She was Hawk's only hope that he could withstand the shadows and hold on to what was left of the Damon Miles he used to know.
“Lina, are you awake? I thought I heard voices.”
Angela poked her head into the bedroom and looked around. The bed was a mess, but empty, and Raven was sitting on the perch in the corner of the ceiling. At the sound of her voice, he turned his head and considered her with his shiny black eyes. Angela wrinkled her nose and stepped into the room.
“Lina?” she called.
A crisp breeze blew through the open window and rustled the red sheers. Angela shivered, glancing at the hawk.
“Doesn't she know it's fall?” she asked him, striding over to the window and closing it. “It's freezing out there!”
“Who are you talking to?” Alina asked, emerging from the walk-in closet. She cast a sharp look around the room and breathed a silent sigh of relief at only seeing Angela.
“Raven,” Angela replied. “I closed your window. It's freezing in here!”
Alina's eyes rested briefly on the window and a faint smile touched her lips before she turned her attention to the bed. Her eyes fell on her Ruger and she glanced at Angela, who had picked up a book from the dresser and was looking at it cursorily. Alina slid the gun off the bedside table and into her back holster silently.
“You're up early,” she said, dropping her shirt over the holster and pulling the comforter and sheet back to the foot of the bed.
“I didn't sleep well,” Angela answered with a shrug. “I kept thinking about how I sat in an empty building across from a criminal who wants to kill me. No one knew I was there. He could have killed me and hid my body and no one would have known!”
“Well, he didn't.” Alina shook out the fitted sheet and tucked it back under the corner of the mattress. “No point in thinking about it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Angela muttered. She put the book down and went to the other side of the bed, helping Alina pull the top sheet up and fold it back. “Why do you think he let me go?”
“He's making sure he doesn't need you again,” Alina answered bluntly.
“Oh, very nice.” Angela glanced at her. “Are you even human?”
Alina laughed and reached for the comforter.
“Well, you asked!” she exclaimed. Angela helped her pull up the comforter and Alina straightened it, glancing at her. There was a strange, hard glint in her eyes that made Angela shiver involuntarily. “Don't worry. He lost his one chance. He won't get another.”
“Are you ever afraid of anything?” Angela asked her, straightening up and looking across the bed at her old friend. “Nothing seems to faze you.”
“Fear is counter-productive,” Alina said shortly. “I don't have time for it.”
“Wow! Ok then. How's the weather on your planet?”
“Apparently not as freezing as it is on yours,” Alina retorted with a grin.
Angela shook her head and turned toward the door.
“I heard Michael moving around in the other
spare room,” she said over her shoulder. “Looks like we're all early risers. I think I'll make pancakes. I need something to cheer me up.”
Alina glanced at the closed bedroom window before turning to follow her out.
“You'd better make extra,” she said. “There might be another one for breakfast.”
Stephanie stifled a yawn and opened the door to the small conference room. She was a few minutes early for her meeting with Blake Hanover, the agent from Washington, and Rob. She expected to find the room empty. Instead, there was a man sitting at the oval conference table with a large Wawa coffee next to his laptop. He looked up when the door opened and Stephanie was caught in a sharp gaze from warm brown eyes.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, closing the door behind herself. “I wasn't expecting anyone to be here yet.”
“You must be Agent Walker.” The man stood up and came around the table, holding out his hand. He was tall, topping six feet, with rich brown hair that fell over his forehead in thick curls. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. We never got a chance to connect two months ago in Washington.”
Stephanie set her coffee down on the table and reached out to shake his hand. His fingers closed around hers firmly and she smiled.
“No, we didn't,” she agreed. “It was a little hectic down there. It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Hanover.”
“Call me Blake,” he said, releasing her hand with a grin. “When people say Mr. Hanover, I still look around for my father.”
“Fair enough,” Stephanie said with a laugh. She set her laptop down next to her coffee and watched as Blake went back to his seat. “I thought I would get here early and knock out some email.”
Blake glanced at her as he settled down in front of his laptop.
“Great minds think alike,” he murmured, picking up his coffee.
Stephanie smiled and sat down, opening her laptop. A comfortable silence fell between the two as they sipped their coffee and typed on their respective machines. Every once in a while, Stephanie found herself glancing across the table at him. He was a rugged man, who looked as if he would have no problem flattening anyone who got in his way. His ruthless charm was tempered, however, by the warm glint in those brown eyes of his. Something about him made Stephanie want to get to know him and have a conversation with him. Blake Hanover was nothing like what she expected.
