Night of the Hawk

by Vonna Harper

  She’d heard of male members of the animal world who could make the females of the species ovulate with nothing more than a sound. Mato hadn’t said anything for a while, but something was taking place, something she had no defense against.

  Masculine energy, especially when presented in this package, was mind-blowing. Touching him made as much sense as placing her hand on a red-hot stove, but she was tempted. More than tempted—damn close to doing the deed.

  That’s what she’d do—trail her fingertips over his back and get that out of her system. Maybe she could make the contact so light he wouldn’t know she’d given into insane impulse, though she suspected he was too tuned into her for that to work.

  And when he caught her touching him, he’d do what?

  Touch back. Take.

  Buzzing from head to toe, she forced herself to focus. In whatever time it had taken her to come to grips with his magnetism, he’d picked up a notebook containing the notes she’d taken while interviewing a retired fish and game employee. She’d gotten in touch with Frank Murphy because he’d spent most of his career working on the southern Oregon coast. Over monster-sized hamburgers she’d paid for, she’d primed him about his working years. At first it had taken some directing on her part to get him to talk about more than complex policies and ignorant politicians, but by the time he’d downed his third beer, he was talking about things he’d seen that only his fellow employees knew about.

  Gauging by the look on Mato’s face, she surmised he’d come to her notes about a drowning death on the Spruce River some five miles before it fed into the ocean. Frank’s voice had lowered to a whisper as he’d described what he’d come across.

  “There weren’t two feet of water in that part of the river, because the channel there was so wide. That man drowned facedown in two damn feet? I don’t care what the coroner said, that damn fool could have gotten back up. He was in his forties, in good shape, wearing the best wading boots money can buy. He’d been fishing all his life. He’s not going to make stupid mistakes.”

  “Then what do you think happened?” she’d asked.

  “He got what he deserved,” Frank had whispered. Then he’d told her that the carcasses of a half dozen salmon had been found on the shore near where the man “drowned.” That time of year, salmon fishing was illegal. The carcasses were female, all laden with eggs. “He broke the law,” Frank continued. “Someone made him pay for it.”

  “Who do you think it was?” she’d asked, but for once Frank hadn’t voiced an opinion. Instead he’d said he’d known when to turn deaf because he wanted to go on living.

  A moment ago, Mato’s heat had her all but panting. Now suddenly she shivered. Heart in her throat, she reached for the notebook. “That can’t interest—”

  “You’ve been talking to Frank Murphy.” He speared her with a glance.

  A hawk’s look, a hawk’s eyes. Pulling her into a deep pit. Scaring her and more. Making her wish she’d never come to this part of the state. “You, ah, you know him?” was the only thing she could think to say.

  He didn’t answer, but every line of his body supplied the truth. Only, his mood had very little to do with a talkative old man and everything to do with her. The room wasn’t closing in on her so much as the walls seemed to be thickening to imprison her in this room dominated by Mato Hawk. Part of her fascination with the predator he’d photographed had to do with the bird’s capacity for violence, its disregard for life beyond its own. At this moment, Mato Hawk was no different.

  Unable to move, she gaped as he dropped the notebook and swiveled to face her full on. Cougarlike? No, not that, and yet there was something—

  His hands, reaching for her, slipped through the air before she could make sense of what she was seeing, clamping on to her arms and pinning them to her sides. Too shocked for a scream, she tried to twist away, which only prompted him to spin her around and pull her back against him. Both of his arms now wrapped her body, and his chest further hindered her movements.

  “Let me go!” she ordered. At the same time, she kicked back, hoping to strike something vulnerable, but because his legs were spread, she barely grazed a calf. Just the same, she straightened and kicked again. This time her heel connected with something solid. Grunting, he lifted her off her feet.

  “What are you doing?” Struggling, kicking, she searched desperately for some part of him to bite. “Damn it, you have no right!”

  “Right has nothing to do with it,” he fairly growled into her ear.

  She might have demanded an explanation if he hadn’t been carrying her over to the couch. Still not fully comprehending that this was happening, she stretched her legs, trying to connect with the carpet, but, damn him, he was strong and tall enough to keep her in the air. Strong enough to make her feel weak.

  Reaching the couch, he dropped her face-first onto it. Before she could twist around, he straddled her, a knee jammed between her and the back of the couch, the other leg braced against the floor. His weight settled onto her buttocks to anchor her in place.

  He was reaching for something in his pocket, not that she could take advantage of his distraction. At least she’d been able to turn her head to the side, and one arm dangled off the edge of the couch, which made him capable of—of what? She was still trying to answer her question when he grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her.

  Something closed around her wrist.

  Not just something, rope! “No! No!”

  Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head back and then down. This time her face was in the couch, her ability to breathe severely limited. His weight had shifted forward to immobilize her. Pushing at the panic about to swamp her, she paid little attention to what he was doing until he abruptly stood. At first she couldn’t think of anything except getting enough air into her lungs, but finally her head cleared.

  He had tied her hands behind her, one wrist over the other so she couldn’t straighten her elbows.

  Feeling as if she’d been gut-punched, she offered no resistance as he hauled her into a sitting position. Then he stepped back. “You’re coming. With me.”

  “What? No! How can—what are…”

  The bonds around her wrists were doing things to her she’d never experienced. The simple explanation was that she’d always been able to use her hands and she didn’t know how to adjust to the change, but her reaction went deeper than that. Several times last night she’d likened Hawk to an animal. He was looking at her through animal eyes now, eyes that acknowledged his superiority. Something told her she’d find no humanity in him, no concern for her as a fellow human being.

  Wild. That’s what he was, wild. Primitive.

  9

  A thousand questions pushed against Smokey’s lips, but the look in Mato’s eyes left no doubt he wouldn’t answer them. Neither would he heed her screams.

  What was she supposed to do then? Wait?

  For what?

  “Don’t do this,” she fairly babbled. “We’re two civilized…” But he wasn’t, was he? Dangerously close to accusing him of being a sexual pervert, a perhaps even more frightening possibility struck her. “It has to do with that material, doesn’t it?” She jerked her head at her notes.

  Colder than she’d ever been, she strained to free herself. Instead, the rope tightened, threatening to cut off circulation. Wincing, she willed herself to stop fighting; the bonds continued to bite into her flesh.

  He wouldn’t care. As long as he had her under his control, what did he care whether she was comfortable? Battling the emotion that went with her belief made her slow to note what he was doing until he pulled her to her feet and forced her to turn her back to him. Something, probably the instinct for survival, railed at her to try to get away, but where could she go? She couldn’t even open the door.

  His hands went to her bonds, and when the pressure let up, she sighed in relief. Before she could decide whether to thank him, he wound another length of rope around her waist. Alarmed all over again, she
tried to look back over her shoulder, but he forced her head down. A moment later he’d secured her wrists to the small of her back via the new rope. If she wasn’t so overwhelmed, she might have complimented him on his ability to completely immobilize her arms. No way could she accidentally or otherwise do harm to herself—or to him.

  She’d deliberately kept the cabin temperature fairly low because she’d wanted to be alert as she went over her material, but despite the chill in the air, she was sweating. Her reporter’s mind made a note of the condition. If she ever had the opportunity, it would be interesting to see whether people in crises were more likely to feel hot or cold.

  Oh, god, what did it matter?

  “You—you knew what you were going to do before you came here.” Fear, and another emotion she wasn’t about to acknowledge, loosened her throat. “That’s why you had the rope on you. But why? That’s what I don’t understand. Why?”

  A sound she’d never heard rumbled up from deep inside him, and when he closed his hands over her shoulders, she froze. Life as she’d always taken for granted had ended. She didn’t know what was ahead of her or whether she’d be alive by the end of the day, but those thoughts were taking second place to his impact on her.

  She hadn’t paid that much attention to his height last night, but now she didn’t have to look at him to know he was some eight or nine inches taller than her. And stronger. So much stronger. He hadn’t thrown his power at her earlier, but it was wrapped around her now, imprisoning her as much as her bonds did.

  Small. Weak. Helpless.

  “I’m not a danger to you and whoever…I can’t be a danger,” she babbled. “And I can’t believe this is about sexual domination. You know—you were given a vivid demonstration of how easy it was to get into my pants.” Shut up! Just shut up! But she couldn’t, because the resultant silence might be more than she could handle.

  “What are you going to do with me? Can’t you tell me that? I—let me go. Just let me—”

  A calloused hand clamped over her mouth. Shocked anew, it was all she could do not to collapse. She’d learned her lesson; she’d be quiet. The better part of a minute passed before he let up the pressure, but before she could adjust to the change, he started forcing something between her teeth. Fresh panic seized her and sent her head to thrashing, but as before, his strength left hers in ruins. All too soon, she was gnawing on the wide strip of cloth he’d gagged her with, and he’d finished knotting it behind her head. She could probably still make some kind of sound, but he probably wouldn’t be able to understand what she was saying.

  Bottom line, he wanted her silent. Silent and submissive.

  More seconds slipped past before he turned her toward him again. Legs slightly spread, she stared up at her captor. Her beautiful, powerful, and maybe deadly captor. The animal-like quality she’d seen in his eyes earlier was still there. In fact, if anything, it was even stronger. He might stand upright and be capable of speech, but she didn’t believe he was thinking with a human’s brain.

  What had he become? And why was she part of it?

  When he again placed his hands on her shoulders, she warned herself not to think beyond this moment. She needed to be locked on to him and as ready as possible for whatever he had planned. Just the same, the last thing she expected was to be forced to her knees, but there she was. At first she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, but that left her with little to stare at except the well-covered mound between his legs.

  Suddenly she was grateful for the gag because as long as it was in her mouth, he couldn’t force her to suck him. Errant mental images of his cock touching the back of her throat again made her slow to realize he was once more on the move. To her shock, he had picked up her briefcase from where she’d left it near the desk and begun throwing her material into it.

  That’s what brought him here? My notes?

  After closing the briefcase, he carried it over to the door and left it there. He started toward the bedroom and then stopped and stood over her. His presence said it all: she was to remain on her knees until he’d decided otherwise.

  Of course she would. What choice did she have?

  The moment Mato disappeared into the bedroom, she felt not relief but an unexpected loneliness. In a short period of time he’d become what, her world? Her master? She’d probably choke on the word if she tried to say it, but he was more than a man who’d thrown ropes on a woman. There was something about his presence, a dominating aura that went deeper than her imagination had ever gone. He was in charge of her, responsible for her, free to do whatever he wanted to her.

  Rape?

  No. Even with reality filling her mouth and encircling her wrists and waist, she didn’t believe that was his intention.

  Instead of wondering what he was doing in the bedroom, she examined her sense of loneliness. The career she’d chosen called for long absences from her condo, and she accepted that although she considered her coworkers and some of her neighbors friends, she wasn’t truly close to any of them. Even lovers came and went without a profound feeling of loss. She’d lost her roots when both of her grandmothers had died within three months of each other when she was in high school, and she judged all other losses by those yardsticks. Her parents and siblings lived hundreds of miles away, and she stayed in contact via e-mail and phone calls, but they weren’t part of her everyday life.

  That was it, wasn’t it? No one, really, shared space with her on a daily basis.

  How had it come to that? Yes, she loved her career, but surely there’d been opportunity to build a personal life, so why hadn’t she?

  It didn’t matter—not now, anyway. All that mattered was that she was waiting on her knees for her captor to return.

  Although her thoughts had spun off into their own channels again, she knew Mato had finished whatever he was doing before he filled the narrow doorway. He was carrying her lone suitcase, and her cosmetic bag was in his other hand. In a few minutes he’d stripped the room of her belongings. When he deposited his burdens next to her briefcase and slipped her laptop into its carrying case, she shivered.

  What was he going to do with her belongings? Even more important, what did he intend to do with her?

  She started trying to scoot away the moment he faced her. Even when he shook his head, she continued backtracking. And when he crouched over her and planted a hand over the back of her neck, she screamed into her gag. The sound was garbled nonsense.

  Down, down he forced her head until she lost her balance and probably would have hit her nose on the carpet if he hadn’t grabbed an arm at the last second and eased her journey. She was lying on her breasts, her head turned toward him, knees still bent, silenced and helpless. Alive in unfathomable ways.

  He was going to touch her, just touch, not force or dominate. But although he’d given her time to accept what he had in mind, she had no defenses in place when he began massaging her shoulders. Was he concerned that tying her the way he had might have hurt her?

  But maybe that wasn’t what he had in mind at all. Maybe he wanted to make sure she understood he considered her his property. His possession.

  What had happened to a lifetime of independence and accomplishments?

  The massage ended so abruptly she couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted it. Worrying about what he had in mind tightened her muscles, but instead of trying to read his expression, she stared at the carpet. She should fight, try to yell, something! Damn it, what self-respecting human being allowed herself to be plunked onto dirty old carpet?

  Fighting Mato Hawk?

  An image of her going after him with nails, teeth, arms, and legs started to form, only to evaporate when she realized he’d grasped an ankle and was bending her knee so her heel was touching her buttocks. Fright exploded around her, and lifting her upper body as far off the floor as she could, she struggled to twist free. Although she managed a quarter circle turn, he settled onto his knees, grabbed her hips, and pulled her back against him. No soo
ner did he have her in place than he’d bent her leg again. More rope materialized. Even as she kept her leg in motion, he looped the restraint around her ankle. Keeping tension on the rope, he held her down while sliding the rope’s loose end through what was around her waist. A quick knot finished the job.

  When he slid back, she made no attempt to keep him in her sight. Soon enough she would put her mind on him, but for right now, only one thing mattered. He’d secured her much as a rodeo roper did to the calf he’d just brought down.

  Sweat bloomed along her sides and in the small of her back. Her head filled with the screams she couldn’t voice, and yet she was more angry than afraid. If he didn’t like what she was doing, he’d let her know, but in the meantime she’d give him as much of a piece of her mind as she could without words. Using the flooring for leverage, she managed to get onto her side with her tethered leg under her. If the overpowering brute got too close, she’d land her free leg where it’d do the most good.

  Then she caught sight of him again, and thoughts of violent revenge slid off into an unreachable part of her mind. He seemed caught somewhere between man and creature all right, a maybe unwilling participant in something larger than both of them. Though she was the one with ropes on her, he made her think of a wild animal in a cage. She’d gone to a zoo only once because she couldn’t stand the look of mute resignation and despair in the eyes of lions, wolves, antelope, even elephants. The animals had been well fed, but they hadn’t chosen that life. Even those who’d been born in captivity seemed to carry memories of freedom in their genetic makeup.

  Mato Hawk had been free last night. When she’d seen him at the hearing, he’d been fierce and self-directed, a man ruled by his intellect and convictions. Now, however, that intellect seemed buried under something else. Something he had no control over and maybe couldn’t comprehend.