Hot SEAL, Hawaiian Nights: A Brotherhood Protectors Crossover Novel (SEALs in Paradise)

by Elle James

  Hawk released the breath he’d been holding and kissed her back, holding her close, loving the way he felt inside her.

  As the storm raged around the building, Hawk hugged Kalea close. Eventually, the thunder moved on, the winds died down, and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Dull gray light edged through the grimy windows, waking Hawk in the early hours of the morning.

  Kalea slept on, curled on her side against him, her hand tucked beneath her chin.

  Needing to relieve himself, Hawk gently extricated himself from Kalea’s arms and legs and rolled off the pallet and up onto his feet. Quickly dressing, he pulled on his shoes, strapped his knife to his calf and eased the door open.

  Outside, the scent of freshly washed earth and vegetation filled the air. Gulls flew overhead, and the sky, though cloudy, wasn’t nearly as threatening as it had been the night before.

  Hawk visited the outhouse he’d found behind the building and relieved himself. Curious about the plane, and knowing Kalea would be worried about it, he hurried down to the cove.

  Before he reached the sand, his heart sank. The plane that had been well over the sand was gone.

  Hawk looked out to sea, but the little Cessna seaplane was nowhere to be seen. He dropped down to the sand and went to where they’d tied the plane to a rock. Still tied to the rock was line they’d used. Only it appeared to have been cut, not torn or frayed.

  With a frown. Hawk looked up again and around the sandy shore to the opposite end of the long strip of sand. That’s when he saw it. A small motorboat was pulled up on the sand, half-hidden behind a boulder.

  His first instinct was to be glad someone had come to rescue them. But immediately following that thought was the image of the line cut in two. The line that had secured Kalea’s plane to the shore.

  As if drawn to it, Hawk crossed the stretch of sand, walking…then running toward the small boat. As he neared the craft, he realized it didn’t belong to the coast guard, and it didn’t have any markings on it to identify it.

  Pulling his knife from the scabbard around his calf, he edged closer. Footprints disturbed the sand all around the boat and back toward the boulder where the plane had been secured.

  But there was no sign of a person.

  A cold feeling settled in the pit of Hawk’s gut.

  Whoever had come ashore had cut the plane free and pushed it out into the ocean. He had to have been there for long enough to do that and possibly long enough to find his way up to—

  Hawk swore, turned and ran across the sand as fast as his feet could carry him. He cursed how the loose sand made it more difficult for him to gain traction. When he reached the hard-packed dirt and old road, he sprinted, moving as fast as he could. He had to get back to the building…to Kalea…before…

  Kalea woke when the door to the building closed behind Hawk. She smiled and stretched, feeling good despite being stranded on an island with no running water for a shower or to brush her teeth. She was sore, but in a good way. She wouldn’t mind waking up that way every day. But preferably with Hawk still in the bed beside her.

  When he didn’t return right away, Kalea figured he’d gone down to check on the plane. She rose and dressed, eager to see how her Cessna had weathered the wicked storm the night before.

  Having just pulled on her shoes and finger-combed her hair, she heard a sound outside the door. With a smile on her face, she hurried to greet the man who’d shown her how beautiful lovemaking could be when you did it with the right person. She flung open the door and started to throw herself into his arms, when she realized the man in front of her wasn’t Hawk at all.

  He was tall and stocky, and his face appeared as if set in granite.

  Without thinking, Kalea blurted out, “You’re not Hawk.” Then her brow furrowed. “Who are you? And where is Hawk?”

  The man didn’t say anything, just reached out and grabbed for her arm.

  Kalea jerked away, stepping backward into the building. That’s when she saw the tattoo on the back of the man’s hand—the snake she’d seen on her attacker’s hand in Hilo.

  Her heart leaped into her throat, and she quickly weighed her options. She could try to plough right through him and escape or run back into the building and evade him long enough for Hawk to return and help her get this guy under control.

  Knowing she wouldn’t make it past him through the door, Kalea chose option two and backed another step into the building.

  When the man in the doorway moved, Kalea turned and ran.

  She didn’t get far before a hand grabbed her hair, and she was yanked backward. Stumbling, she fell hard on her hip. But that hand in her hair kept her from shaking loose from her attacker.

  He pulled her to her feet and wrapped a steel band of an arm around her middle and walked with her toward the door.

  “What do you want? If it’s money, my father will pay you anything you want if you don’t kill me.”

  “I’m not interested in your father’s money,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

  “Were you the one who killed Nate? I know you were the one in Hilo wearing the Phantom mask. You know you’re not going to get away with anything, don’t you? No one ever does. Eventually, you’ll be caught. Hopefully, sooner than later.” Kalea knew she was babbling, but she was trying to keep him talking to allow Hawk time to get back to her. Assuming the man holding her hadn’t killed the Navy SEAL.

  No, he couldn’t have killed her man. Hawk had promised she’d be okay. He would stake his life on it. Kalea prayed he hadn’t given his life to save hers. If he had, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to continue living. She wanted more time with the man. He intrigued her and made her want to be with him every minute of every day. He couldn’t be dead.

  Something cold and hard pressed against her temple. Out of the corner of her eye, she recognized the black barrel and handgrip of a pistol. “Are you going to shoot me?” she asked, her pulse pounding, her stomach roiling.

  “Not yet. First, I have to get your boyfriend out in the open,” he said.

  A mixture of relief and fear warred inside Kalea. Relief that her captor hadn’t found Hawk yet. And fear that using her as a bargaining chip to bring out Hawk would expose him to the lethal force of a man with a gun. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, while wishing Hawk actually was. The fleeting thought flashed through her mind, Just what are we? They’d slept together, made love and then what? Were they lovers or a one-night stand?

  “What are you going to do when he does come out in the open?” Kalea asked. “You don’t want to kill us. You’ll go to jail for the rest of your life. I hear jail in Hawaii is horrible. You’re so close to the beaches, but you’ll never see them again.”

  “Shut up,” the man said through gritted teeth. “You talk too much.”

  “I only talk like this when I’m nervous. You’d be nervous, too, if you had a gun pointing at your head. It’s not every day you have a gun pointed at your head. You really don’t want to shoot me. It would make a very big mess.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to drown you to make you shut up,” he said and jabbed her with the tip of the barrel. “Shut your pie hole, lady. Your man should be showing up soon. Then we can start this party.”

  “So, we’re going to have a party?” A movement out of the corner of Kalea’s eyes caught her attention. She could see Hawk peering through the bushes toward her. He lifted a finger to his mouth.

  Afraid her captor would turn that gun on Hawk, Kalea preferred that he shoot her instead. She kept up her running diatribe, hoping she would come up with a way to get out of her captor’s grip at the same time as she could disarm him. But he had a tight hold around her middle, and her arms were pinned to her sides. “So, why are you set on killing me and my ranch hand?” she asked.

  “That’s my business,” he said. “I told you to shut up.”

  “You’re going to kill us anyway, so what’s it hurt to tell me why? You wouldn’t want me to go to my g
rave with such a big question weighing my spirit down, would you?”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your spirit. If you don’t shut up, I’ll make you shut up.”

  “If you kill me before my ranch hand appears, he’ll kill you. You can’t kill me yet.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” he said. “All I have to do is apply pressure here…” he said, shifting the arm holding the gun from pointing it at her head and wrapping it around her throat. “And then squeeze. You won’t be able to breathe and, eventually, you’ll pass out. Maybe even die. Which is why I’m here on this godforsaken lump of rock.” He squeezed gently, cutting off the air Kalea fought hard to fill her lungs. With her hands trapped at her sides, she could only kick her feet and twist her body in an attempt to break free and suck in life-giving air.

  Her captor was stronger, holding her down, keeping her from moving.

  Soon, the sunshine faded to a fuzzy gray and, finally, to black.

  Chapter 14

  Hawk lay in the brush several yards away from where a man with a snake tattoo on his hand held a gun to Kalea’s temple. He refused to show himself. If he did, he was certain Kalea’s captor would shoot without giving him any chance to run. If he died, he wouldn’t be able to save Kalea.

  When her captor wrapped his arm around Kalea’s throat, Hawk knew he had to do something, and do it quickly. He wished he had a rifle, but he didn’t. Armed with nothing more than a knife, he had to do whatever he could.

  Ka-Bar knife in hand, he waited, praying for a chance. He inched closer, low crawling toward the man choking the life out of the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind. He prayed he wasn’t too late when he was finally able to make his move.

  Kalea’s body went limp. When it did, she slipped through her captor’s arm toward the ground.

  The man bent to keep her from falling but couldn’t juggle her and the gun in his hand.

  Clutching his Ka-Bar, Hawk waited for the moment when Kalea was out of range. With his breath caught and held in his throat, Hawk weighed the knife in his hand. He’d practiced throwing it at least a thousand times while in Afghanistan. He’d been the best of all the members of his team. All he had to do was hit the carotid artery, and it would be all over for Kalea’s captor.

  Kalea’s captor couldn’t hold onto her as her body slumped to the ground. He tried to pull her up by her arm, but she slid further down his body.

  Hawk chose that moment to throw his knife. His aim was true as the heavy military knife tore through the other man’s skin to lodge in his neck.

  The stranger holding Kalea released her and clapped a hand to the knife sticking out of his throat. He pulled it hard, tearing it free. Blood poured from the wound, running down his neck and chest onto Kalea’s inert form. Pressing a hand to his neck, the man pointed his gun at Kalea.

  A shot went off.

  Hawk flung himself at the shooter, hitting him in the midsection.

  Another shot sounded next to Hawk’s ear.

  The force with which Hawk hit the man was such that he knocked him off his feet and hit the ground flat on his back, hard. The gun flew from his fingers and clattered to a stop a couple yards away, well out of reach.

  Kalea’s captor lay on the ground beside her, blood flowing unchecked from the wound in his neck. His face paled, and his eyes remained open, unseeing.

  Hawk leaped to his feet and retrieved his knife, prying it from the attacker’s hands.

  Then he knelt beside Kalea, brushing a hand over her hair, looking for wounds and signs of breathing. “Kalea?” he spoke softly, searching her body for a gunshot wound. There was blood…lots of it. Thankfully, it wasn’t hers. He shook her shoulder. “Kalea, talk to me.”

  When she didn’t move, he pressed two fingers to the base of her throat and waited for that reassuring sign of life…a pulse.

  When he could feel nothing against his fingertips, his CPR training kicked in, and he immediately started chest compressions. He couldn’t remember if breathing was still something he needed to do to resuscitate a victim. But he’d try everything in order to keep the woman he was falling in love with alive.

  “Please, Kalea, breathe,” he whispered as he pinched her nose and blew a breath into her mouth.

  A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

  Hawk spun, fists clenched to find Hank Patterson standing beside him, holding a rifle in his other hand.

  “I’ll do chest compressions.” Patterson dropped to his knees beside Kalea and laid the weapon on the ground. “You breathe.”

  Together, they settled into a rhythm, feverishly pumping life back into Kalea’s unmoving body.

  Six compressions in, Kalea moved on her own.

  Patterson rocked back on his heals. “I think she’s coming out of it.”

  “Come on, Kalea, sweetheart, breathe.” Hawk pressed his lips to hers and forced air into her lungs one more time.

  Before he could raise his head, her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. The life-breathing kiss turned into a real kiss.

  “Yup, I think she’s back.” Patterson chuckled.

  “Coast Guard will be here any minute,” another voice sounded behind Hawk.

  He glanced up to see another man he recognized from way back, in his early days as a Navy SEAL. “Swede?”

  The tall, blond man grinned. “Hey, Hawk. Glad to see you’re still alive. We were worried for a while there. Good thing Patterson still has some mad skills as a sniper.”

  Hawk looked up into Hank’s eyes. “Two shots?”

  Patterson nodded. “One was mine. The other was his.” He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “I almost hit you. Had you lunged a second earlier, you would have been lying there instead of him. But if you hadn’t hit him when you did, that bullet he shot could have found Miss Parkman.” His new boss glanced down at Kalea. “Did you check her over? Is any of this blood hers?”

  “I checked.” Hawk shook his head. “None of it’s hers.” He smiled down at Kalea. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

  She rubbed her chest and neck. “Nothing that won’t mend,” she said, her voice hoarse. “What happened?” Kalea struggled to sit up.

  Hawk slipped an arm around her back and helped. “I went down to check on your plane and found a boat. I hightailed it back up here, but he already had you.” He shook his head. “I think I lost ten years off my life when he choked you until you passed out.” Tipping his head toward Patterson, he nodded. “Kalea, this is my boss, Hank Patterson of the Brotherhood Protectors. He’s a Navy SEAL, as well.”

  She looked beyond Patterson to the other man standing over them.

  “Swede is another Brotherhood Protector.”

  Kalea leaned into Hawk. “I don’t care if you’re all flying purple people eaters, thanks for saving my life.” She turned to look at the man on the ground behind her. “Is he…?

  “Dead,” Patterson said.

  “Damn,” she muttered. “I never got him to tell me who he was working for.” She looked into Hawk’s eyes. “He was going to kill us both.”

  Hawk nodded. “He’s not going to kill anyone, now.”

  “Yeah, but someone hired him. Whoever that is will come after us again.” Kalea clutched Hawk’s hand. “You’re growing on me, cowboy. I can’t lose you.” A tear slipped from her eye and slid down her cheek.

  Hawk’s heart clenched in his chest. “Babe, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out.”

  “Uh, for that matter,” Patterson cleared his throat. “That’s why we’re here.”

  Kalea and Hawk glanced up at Patterson as he rose to his feet.

  He gave a chin lift toward Swede. “No sooner had we gotten off the phone with you last night, then we got hold of the security camera footage from the hardware store in Hilo. We had a clear image of this guy.” He jerked his thumb toward the man lying dead on the ground. “We did a facial scan through several criminal databases and came up with a match. Jordan Buckley, aka “Butch”. He’s been in and ou
t of jail several times for aggravated assault and cruelty to animals. He’s also known in Wyoming for having trained with a white supremacist group. He’s skilled in all kinds of weapons and hand-to-hand combat.”

  Hawk swallowed hard. Kalea was lucky to be alive. The man could just as easily have snapped her neck rather than choke her to death.

  “And we found something else on those security videos,” Patterson said. “He was talking to someone else, exchanging what we think was money.”

  “Who was he?” Kalea asked, her eyes rounded. “Who wanted me dead?”

  “It wasn’t a he,” Swede said. “It was a woman with blonde hair. We looked through more footage and found her getting into a car. We were able to capture an image of half of the license plate.”

  “We ran it by the Hawaii Motor Vehicle Division and came up with a match.”

  “Clarise Sanders,” Kalea said, her voice tight, her lips thinning. “The bitch.” Her eyes widened. “Has anyone gone after her?”

  “No one knows but us, at this point.” Patterson reached a hand down and helped Kalea to her feet. “We wanted to get to you first, so we hopped on a plane yesterday and flew out to Honolulu. We were getting off the plane when we got a call from your father, telling us your plane never made it to Oahu.”

  Hawk stood beside Kalea, his arm around her, holding her steady.

  “Thankfully, Hawk had a GPS tracker on him, and we were able to locate you on this island.” Swede waved a hand-held GPS tracking device. “We knew exactly where you were.”

  “But the storm delayed us getting here until this morning.” Patterson grinned. “We pulled some strings and worked with the local Navy SEAL training group to get us to Maui, and then from Maui to here. They’re waiting at the cove until the Coast Guard takes over the rescue operation.”

  The thumping sound of rotors beating the air sounded in the distance, moving toward them.

  Moments later, an orange helicopter flew overhead and hovered, the rotor wash stirring up dust and debris. Slowly, the chopper lowered until it landed fifty yards away from the building and the people standing outside.