The Hunter

by Gennita Low

  “About what Brad told us?”

  Amber shook her head. “We can talk about that tomorrow. There’s something else.” She wanted to tell her about the call and instant messenger conversation a few hours ago. “It isn’t urgent, but it’s something interesting.”

  “All right. I’ll be there soon, ’kay?”

  “Take your time, sweets. I have a few business chores to finish up first, anyway. It’s almost closing time.” Amber quietly closed the door. Llallana would confide in her when the time was right.

  She turned off the main light, leaving only the twin ones over the oven and kitchen sink, then took a stairway through a side door that led down to her office. The luxury of living upstairs from where one worked was that she didn’t need to worry about taking late bus rides or driving a car at night.

  She collected the cash box from Katia, one of her wait staff, as she peeked into the kitchen. “Any guests left?”

  “Someone walked in really late and I told him the ovens were off already. He went off.”

  Usually The Last Resort accommodated late customers, but Katia knew that Amber didn’t like to be disturbed when the CIVPOL chief was here. On other nights, Amber would take over and let her help go home.

  “Thanks, Katia. You and Dru can go now. I’ll finish up. See you tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Amber locked up after they left, turning off lights here and there. She had structured her café hours to suit her needs, keeping it open from ten to two during the day for customers who wanted to buy her cookies and have a quick coffee or tea break from their work. In the evenings she served the ever-popular American dinners that made her café a regular haunt for soldiers and diplomats. Usually she mingled with them, especially those who had been working in the area for a while. She learned a lot of useful information that way. Everyone who was around long enough knew that The Last Resort was the place to buy, sell, or pass on information. And sometimes get some free chocolate cookies, she added with mockery.

  It took a while for the setup to work. An American-like café in Velesta was a good front. The CIA had told her that the soldiers were getting restless with their peacekeeping duties and needed something to distract them other than carousing at the girlie bars. It also attracted the locals who were curious about anything foreign. Then there were the kafena owners, who came here to make friends with the soldiers, giving them cards for “free” massages and other favors from “their” girls. The CIA liked the idea.

  It was in this setting that information flowed like the beer she served. Some she bought, some she passed on to gain favors, and others…she gave to Dilaver as a gesture to show she was not one to take sides. By making the café a popular drinking hole for the soldiers, she avoided many of the dangers of running a business in a town owned by various other mercenary gangs. She didn’t have to deal with giving protection money as long as she provided all sides with what they needed.

  And no one questioned an American woman doing shady business while running a café. This was Velesta. Everyone had a shady background and ran something illegal. It would be suspicious if she had been a regular businesswoman, choosing, of all places, to settle here in this crime city. No, Amber Hutchens fitted right in, and everyone respected her very quiet ways of running an information ring.

  CIA-approved information ring, Amber corrected, as she put away the cash in the safe. She looked at the stack of fake passports in there. And non-CIA approved human smuggling ring. She punched in the security codes, turned, and froze at the sight of a fully clothed Hawk McMillan before her.

  “How did…mmmmph!” A cold cloth covered her mouth and nose.

  Hawk was prepared this time. He knew the most likely first reaction was to grab the hand against her mouth, and when Amber did that, he effectively countered it by knocking her off balance with a quick sweep of his foot. Then he lifted her off her feet and trapped her body against the wall with his weight. She jerked up, struggling to loosen her hands, trying to use her legs for leverage.

  Hawk pushed in between them, lifting her higher against the wall and pressing down on Amber. Her eyes glared at him, even as he felt her strength leaving her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “I believe we’ve done this position before,” he told her softly as he watched her eyes lose focus and slowly close. He kept the cloth on her mouth for a few more seconds, just in case she was pretending. Her legs slid off him. He loosened his hold and her head rolled forward, resting under his chin.

  Sliding his hand down to hold her so he could lower her to the floor, Hawk made contact with bare skin. He suddenly realized that the skirt she had on had ridden up to her waist when she had lifted her legs. He moved his hand down the side of her thigh, felt silky skin and a strap. Following it to the front, he encountered a holster holding a small weapon.

  Note to self. The woman was always armed when her legs were open. Hawk’s lips quirked. Since the holster was strapped to her left thigh, he supposed she was right-handed. Unless she was ambidextrous. He followed his instincts and checked the other thigh.

  “I’ll be damned,” he murmured. The lady had a small knife holster there. Not a good idea to piss her off. His grin grew wider. Too damn late. He removed the weapons one at a time, looping the knife into the back of his black tool belt and slipping the gun into a side pocket.

  He let her down then and pulled the skirt back into place before lifting her over his shoulder. He turned, looking for the door to his left. He had watched her enter the room from there, so it must be a stairway to the upstairs. The waitress had told him the owner lived upstairs and would be down shortly if he cared to wait.

  Oh, he was going to wait, but his way. It was easy enough to pretend to go out and then slip down a small corridor when the young woman’s attention returned to vacuuming. He was in what looked like an office, and as luck would have it, it was where Amber Hutchens had appeared through the door. Jackpot. That was the access to upstairs.

  There was enough lighting from the upper landing for him to climb up without looking for a light switch. It was a narrow space to maneuver a large man carrying an unconscious woman, though, and he had to be careful several times not to bump against the wall and hurt his prisoner. He reached the top, hesitated, then turned to the right. He had barely taken half a dozen steps when the light suddenly switched on. He blinked, and found himself staring at another woman pointing a weapon at him.

  She was tall, with short dark hair, and her dark eyes held a cool look in them, telling him that she could use the weapon trained on him if she wanted to. She studied him for a moment.

  “Well, if it isn’t Hawk McMillan,” she finally drawled.

  “I gather you know me,” he said.

  “We have…met…” she acknowledged with a small smile.

  “I see.”

  “Getting a little revenge?” she asked.

  “Sort of. Mind introducing yourself? I kind of like knowing the names of women who have touched me.”

  “Not yet.” Her voice turned serious again. “What exactly are you doing with my friend?”

  Hawk patted Amber’s bottom and watched the other woman’s expression turn to amusement. “Her? Oh, nothing quite as humiliating as what she did to me. Want to watch?”

  The smile returned and she slowly lowered her weapon. “Is it anything kinky?” she asked. “She’ll hate it if you do anything kinky to her.”

  Hawk cocked his head. “Lady, she tied a note around my dick. That’s not exactly prim and proper.”

  She shook her head, her smile turning impish. “I didn’t see it, but suspected it from the look in her eyes. Ah well. I suppose that revenge of some sort’s proper. You did pass her test, after all.” She nodded toward Hawk’s back. “That’s where you want to go. This is the kitchen.”

  Hawk raised his eyebrows. “You’re letting me walk in there with your friend, just like that.” This was a very unusual woman. “You trust me not to hurt her.”

/>   She shrugged. “I’ll just kill you if you do. She’d do the same for me.” She glanced at her watch. “Besides, from what I’ve heard, you need her to help you in your mission, don’t you? You have fifteen minutes, Mr. McMillan. Is that enough time?”

  “Plenty.” He started to turn around, then added, “You sure you don’t want to watch? Shouldn’t you be protecting Amber?”

  The woman laughed. “Honey, what’s life without a little fun? I’m Lily, by the way. And watch that you don’t overdo that revenge bit. I’ll find you and hurt you before you can hide behind Dilaver’s big ass.”

  Hawk gave her a smile and nodded, then turned toward the room Lily had indicated. He looked around as he walked toward a big bed that looked very comfortable. Spacious, with very few things on the walls. It didn’t look anything like the feel-good-Americana décor downstairs. A desk with her laptop. A big love seat in the corner by the window. That was it. No frou-frou pillows on the bed, or hand-crafted throws, or anything that matched the downstairs persona.

  He bent down and slid Amber onto the bed. She settled into the feather mattress, her blond hair loosened from its knot, leaving bright wisps against her face and the dark pillow.

  Hawk sat on the edge, taking a good look for the first time. She wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. He was still surprised at how small she was, although he knew this from the night before. He also knew how strong she was, yet nothing about this woman betrayed that.

  She looked refined, with a peaches-and-cream complexion that made him want to touch her face, just to see whether her skin was as silky as it looked. With her mussed-up hair and her mouth slightly open, she reminded him of some sleeping princess.

  Oh yeah, and he was just the prince to wake her up. And let’s not forget the princess was a well-armed woman with quite a number of skills. Which reminded him. He was here to make a point, not to admire the woman’s beauty.

  He had never played a game of one-upmanship in quite this way before. He and his best friend, Jazz, were fiercely competitive, and had each done some pretty outrageous stuff to get the other’s goat. This time was no different, Hawk told himself. Tit for tat. Even if the opponent was a woman with gorgeous skin.

  Hawk gently lifted her skirt. Those legs…Without warning, he suddenly had a vision of them wrapped tightly around him while he was naked. The image segued into a more masculine fantasy of him on top of Amber and doing the plunging, instead of the hypodermic needle she had with her.

  Damn it! What the hell was wrong with him?

  Determinedly, he pulled the skirt higher, until the holsters were in sight. He hesitated for only a second, then reached down to unfasten the first one. His hand spanned around her thigh, his tan from Asia very dark against her paleness. He stared, mesmerized by the contrast, and against his will stroked the soft skin with his thumbs. He wondered whether she was smooth and silky like this all over.

  A deep sigh halted his rampant thoughts. Hawk looked up. Amber was still out, but he’d better hurry before her girlfriend outside changed her mind and came in guns ablazing. He unsnapped the holsters one after the other and removed them. Then he took a permanent marker out of his tool belt and gently nudged her onto her side.

  If Dilaver was right, Amber Hutchens had a boyfriend anyway. Was he ever going to be pissed off when he saw she’d been marked. He grinned. He actually pitied the poor bastard. This woman was obviously a control freak who would run her man ragged with mind games. He uncapped the marker.

  Lily didn’t think Hawk McMillan would really hurt Amber. Embarrass her a bit, maybe. She would respect the man a lot less if he hadn’t retaliated in kind for what her friend did to him. Lily worked with a lot of men and considered herself quite good at understanding them.

  Most men, she corrected, but she wasn’t going to go into that again. She had done enough thinking about him out on the deck. And she wasn’t going to throw another pity party for herself again tonight.

  Life was for living, and she planned to have a good time doing it. She knew Amber could sense her moodiness and she intended to remedy that somehow. She didn’t want anyone to think that she was anything but happy. Because life was for living, she repeated. She had seen enough misery to know her lot was way, way better than most women’s around these parts, and she would help give some living back to the poor girls as long as she could.

  Lily checked her watch. Five more minutes. If he didn’t come out by then, she would go in. She wondered what he would do as revenge. Strip Amber? Hmm. How tediously boring. And if he did that, he surely knew he would have a war on his hands and Amber would kill him. No, he already knew that he needed Amber’s cooperation, so he wouldn’t do something too drastic.

  But men were stupid and the last agent they had sent—Lily shrugged—well, that one deserved being caught. Better him than Amber or she, certainly.

  She was well aware of the risks both of them were taking, but they had agreed that some of those risks were worth it, as in the case of the girls and children. Somebody had to do something. Why not them? They were in the position to do it, and if they were extremely careful, who would know?

  So a CIA boy playing cat-and-mouse games with her good friend didn’t bother her conscience. It should. Sometimes she thought she didn’t have any feelings left, even about caring for Amber’s well-being. She would protect her, even kill for her…but she wasn’t sure whether it was because that was the thing to do or because she was just programmed that way. She just liked protecting people, she supposed.

  Sixty seconds. Not that she was doing a good job protecting Amber at this moment, she admitted with a wry smile. A stranger in the bedroom with her friend. What was she thinking, allowing him fifteen minutes? That was enough time to do a lot.

  She started toward the room. She supposed if she blew away another CIA agent, she would be forgiven this time if he happened to be naked and on top of Amber. The door was ajar, so she just pushed it open and walked in with her weapon.

  A quick glance told her that Amber was alone. He was gone.

  Wow. He was damn good.

  Lily looked at her friend again, who was tucked in bed like she had gone there herself. Nothing around to show what McMillan had done. Oh. Amber’s weapons were laid out neatly at the foot of the bed. Lily smiled ruefully. Ooops. She knew where those were kept.

  That man was in so much trouble. That was good. “Keep distracting her for me,” she murmured. “I’d hoped Brad would, but you’ll do.”

  But she wasn’t going to think about Brad. And what she didn’t want him to do with Amber. She couldn’t feel anything anymore, remember? No feelings. Not a damn one.

  5

  “Dobro. Call me back when the shipment arrives. I’m counting on you.” Dilaver shut his cell phone and turned to Hawk. “Finally, some good news.”

  Hawk raised his eyebrows questioningly. He was sitting on the new sofa Dilaver had bought last night, his feet resting on the new coffee table. An entire suite of furniture to replace the destroyed one. He wondered how long they would last before they, too, became the victims of their owner’s displeasure.

  “I tell you, everyone wants a piece of the action, you know? It used to be they respected the different militias in charge and no one would contemplate going after anything that belongs to us, but lately…” Dilaver paused, shaking his head in disgust. “They even dare to rob me. In broad daylight! The last few months have been killing me, man, what with the missing shipments. Not enough income and too many damn lazy fuckers to feed, you know? What the hell’s this world coming to when even the petty thieves don’t respect us?”

  Hawk almost laughed aloud. He was sitting with one of the most reviled men in the criminal world and the latter was complaining about his illegal activities like some businessman facing a market downturn. That the piece of action had to do with kidnapped girls being trafficked across borders like so many cattle was sickening enough, but Dilaver talked of them as shipments and income, not registering that these wer
e human lives that he had destroyed. And it was ironic humor that struck Hawk because it didn’t seem to occur to Dilaver that he was the biggest robber of all, as he sat there complaining about petty thieves.

  “Yes, I’ve been watching all the bad news happening lately,” Hawk said now. Here was his opportunity to plant some ideas. “You’ve been losing a lot of money since I met you. You need help.”

  “You think so, huh?” Dilaver eyed him thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve been thinking about how I could use you.”

  “You only paid for my guiding you out of Asia,” Hawk reminded him. “My boss gave me orders to run my errand and then head on back.”

  “What if I become your boss? How much does Stefan pay you?” Dilaver asked. “You did a great job protecting me and getting my men and me through the borders with hardly any problems. I’m very impressed by your skills, especially when we were running like hell through the jungle. You trekked well, finding us shelter whenever we needed it, and in the end you got us out of that hellish place in one piece. I think you’ll do extremely well here in Macedonia, Hawk.”

  His skills hadn’t been tested much during that adventure. Getting them out of Asia had been made easier when he had been cleared by covert agencies way ahead of him and Dilaver. And now he had gained enough of Dilaver’s trust that the latter wanted to hire him.

  “I still have my one job to do for Stefan,” Hawk said. “Meanwhile, I’ll think about your offer, but only if I know what it entails.”

  “You’re loyal and you finish your job, no matter what. I like that in a man. You deal with illegal weapons and that’s what I would like you to continue to do.”

  Hawk raised his eyebrows. “I thought your girlie business was used to finance your weapon business. What’s there to that? You don’t deal with arms dealers like Stefan does.”

  “Ah, but I’m getting interested, you see,” Dilaver said, tapping his cane on the carpet. “When I was in Asia, I heard about the weapon conference. Stefan mentioned it. Big names. Something big happening there. I want details; I want to get in on the deals, Hawk.”