by Beth Rhodes
“You ready for the flight tomorrow?” she asked Moira, who was her planner, her little organized entity of the three of her children, even as an eight-year-old.
“Of course,” I have everything packed and my carry on is ready to go as well. “Willy is still messing around, and all because he doesn’t really want to leave. I mean, mom. They are going to make us late, and then we’ll miss our flight.”
“Have you ever missed a flight yet?”
“No.” Moira’s pouty response made Stacy grin as she sat back into the swivel chair. “But there’s a first for everything.”
“Well, let’s worry about that if it happens, okay?” Stacy was anxious to see her kids. After the ordeal in Belize, it was like her world would be slightly off balance until they were all together again. She was pretty sure Hawk was feeling the same way. “Can’t wait to see you.”
“How’s Dad?”
“He’s doing well. Missing you, of course.”
“Tell him I miss him, too.”
She could tell by the tone, her daughter was on the verge of distracted. “Let me talk to Grandma.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow, Mom.” Moira took a breath and Stacy cringed, knowing the yell to come next. “Grandma!”
Stacy rolled her eyes and waited.
“Mercy, that child has a set of lungs, girl.”
“Hi, Mom.”
They spoke on the specifics of the coming travel. Old pros now, Stacy let the worry slide away as her mom spoke. She could always count on her mom. “So, anyway, the only thing I wanted to mention was that the airline called, something about a new form that needed filling out for minors. I’ll be driving them to the airport so I can sign those papers before they head out.”
“Oh, okay. I wonder what that’s all about.” Stacy took out a pencil. “Do you have a number? A name? So I can double check it?”
Her mom rattled off the phone number and the name, and Stacy jotted it down. “Thanks.”
“No problem. All right. I better go. Last night here. Your dad’s got the fireworks ready to go, as usual.”
Stacy laughed. “Perfect. A little American send off. I’m sure the neighbors will be so happy.”
Her mom snorted a laugh. “Henry and Gerti are used to it now. They still complain, I think that’s by rote.”
“Tell the kids I love them.”
“They know it.”
“Good.” Stacy’s hand shook as she dropped the phone to the table. “Shit.” She didn’t know where this bad feeling was coming from. The chat with her kids, with her mom, had definitely set something off inside her.
She frowned, looking at the piece of paper, and with a sigh, she dialed the number.
“Lufthansa customer service,” the heavily accented voice answered, easing the first of Stacy’s worry.
“Yes, hello. I’m calling about a flight my children are on tomorrow morning, coming through New York and to Raleigh. The name is Hawkins.”
The clicking and clacking started. “Yes, ma’am. Three children leaving at five am.”
“Yes. My mother called me and told me there was paperwork we’d missed.”
“I’m so sorry. This is true.” The woman’s t-h sounded like a soft d. “Last week, a new regulation came down. A formality, of course. Very important for if something happens to the children.”
“Okay. And my mother can fill it out at the airport tomorrow?”
“Yes. Indeed. No problem with this hassle. I promise.”
Stacy absently crossed off the numbers on the paper. “Great. Thank you.”
If there were less bad, less terrorism, maybe stuff like this wouldn’t be necessary. As it was, more and more stipulations were being added for security every year.
It meant she and Hawk had a job.
Good yet sad. She’d prefer to not have a job at all then to be so good at fighting bad guys that they were high in demand.
“Hey, want to hit the store together?” Hawk stuck his head in the doorway, catching her just as she stood.
“Sure. Everything set with the guys?”
“Yup. By the way, John’s got an idea for a new sniper on the team.”
She lifted her purse and hung it over her shoulder. “I was really sorry to lose Isaac.”
Hawk held the door for her when they got to the lobby. “Well, this one will make you happy. She’s a woman.”
Stacy lifted a brow. “I’m not a sexist. Man, woman, or whatever…as long as they can do the job and work with the team.”
He laughed, and pulled her into his side. He reached around her at the truck to open the door. Instead of opening the door, he leaned into her. “He’s doing some digging now. Apparently, she went off grid two and a half years ago.”
“Hmm, a mystery?” Enjoying the weight of him pressed against her, she nipped at his nipple through his shirt before looking back up. There was a spark in those eyes.
“Not so much. Just a story of an operation gone bad.” Hawk ran his fingers through her bangs then lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. “We’ve had a few of those, you know?”
“Yeah. I remember.”
“Been a while since we worked together.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“No,” he agreed. “Neither have I. I do like knowing you’re safe. It’s been easy to let you be mom. I was happy that way.”
“Will you be happy with me by your side?”
He kissed her, which wasn’t exactly an answer, but the touch of his lips sort of made that incomplete feeling disappear. They were long term, no matter how they moved forward at this point. They’d put Cortez behind them.
Today was their time.
“Let’s skip the store,” she suggested, breathlessly.
He looked at her, raised a brow, as if he knew what she was thinking. Shameless, she grinned and pulled at his shirt. “Kids will be home first thing in the morning.”
Self-conscious, he looked around before he shook his head with a smile. “We can stop at the store on the way home.”
“Always practical. That’s my man.” And for a brief moment, she saw uncertainty in his eyes. “Which I wouldn’t change for the world.” She added. “Which will make us happy tomorrow at eight, when we have kids running us ragged and begging for food. She kissed him soundly. Let’s hurry the hell up, okay? Because I’d really like to get you inside of me.”
He finally got the door open and let her in on the driver’s side.
Then he circled the vehicle to the passenger side.
And her heart ached a little, knowing that things were going to change.
If the surgery didn’t work or if it made his sight worse, she really would have to be his eyes.
***
He sat listening to his own painful ragged breathing. The burns along his right side were raw and angry with infection. The side of his face, a blistered ugly mess, would never again be able to seduce a woman. So ugly now, his own mother wouldn’t recognize him, Miguel Cortez glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the German SUV pull out onto the road.
As if nature knew of the import, the quiet was all encompassing, not even the morning birds chirped the coming arrival of the sun.
Then the vehicle carrying the Hawkins’ family drove by, and Miguel slowly pulled back onto the road. He’d lived too long not to see betrayal when it looked him in the eye. He’d seen it in his angry son’s face. And Hawk would have to pay for that as well.
Within a half an hour, the road turned urban. Still early, the highway was mostly empty. They hit the outskirts of Frankfurt where industry met the road. Factories billowed smoke and the smells of burning fuel reminded him that this place wasn’t so different from his own home.
The more he travelled, the more it was true. One place was very much like the next and all humanity was the same—soulless, greedy—like himself, like Hawkins. Who had stolen his life.
Miguel stepped on the gas as soon as the two lane road turned to four, and he passed the SUV. His speed was cruci
al, as were the airbags.
He slammed on the brakes. As expected, the old lady behind him turned her wheel to try and avoid him, her effort useless. Losing control, she rammed into his car. Miguel’s heart pounded, an unexpected gleeful feeling rushed through his veins as he slowed to a stop and watched the SUV roll to its side and come to a stop.
He’d waited a long time for this day.
And he got out of his car and pulled the gun from the small of his back.
Not a sound could be heard.
The screech of two cars doing that dreaded and possibly deadly crash was just a memory. Not a witness on the road. He leaned over and checked the rear bumper of his car. “Not too bad,” he muttered and then took the short walk to the disabled vehicle.
No one moved.
He had to climb up from the front and stand on the side panel, and when he opened the door, he heard a soft moan from one of the victims. He bent over and opened the back door, using his body to prop it as he reached in for the little girl. Moira.
“Up you go,” he said in a friendly voice. Wouldn’t want to scare the poor dear, although that was about impossible now that he’d been fried in the explosion. The giggle was pure drugs. The pain meds he’d stolen just before leaving Belize. “Come on. Be careful there.”
“Wait,” another voice spoke from inside the car, and Hawk’s oldest was struggling with his seatbelt, hands fumbling as blood ran down his face. “Don’t.”
The boy’s voice was ripe with panic. He didn’t like Miguel taking his sister. Too, too bad.
“I’m just here to help.”
The wild look in the young man’s eyes didn’t subside, and when he finally broke free, he wiggled between the seats to stand on his own door.
“Oh, so brave,” Miguel said. “A commendable trait.”
“No.” The kid was getting stronger with each passing moment, so Miguel hopped down off the car with the little girl in his arms and let the door slam shut. The soft thud of it hitting the kid made him smile. The girl was bigger than he’d thought. Not the little he expected. She struggled—no doubt thanks to the young John’s efforts to get her back. He turned and put three bullets into the windshield. Moira screamed and fought, quite heroically. He imagined his own daughter would have been as brave if she’d lived.
Of course, he would have protected his daughter better than Hawkins was managing right now. Miguel couldn’t have Moira garnering any attention in the next hour either, so he slammed her to the ground and whacked her, a solid hit to the temple. “There. That’s better.”
The world was silent around him again. He picked her up and laid her down in the backseat. He pulled the plastic box out from under the seat, flipped open the lid and removed the small syringe. He stuck the girl at the top of her leg, slowly depressing the plunger. That would keep her quiet for a while. Then he got back in front behind the steering wheel.
“Thirty minutes to take off,” he whispered to no one. And no one answered. He was going to do this one on his own, and he was going to do it right.
He was going to get his due.
And Hawk was finally going to pay.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Something woke Hawk, and he lay still, waiting for the noise to return. Quiet filled the room and he looked at the clock on his table. Almost midnight. Stacy snuggled closer to him, as if feeling his restlessness. He turned and pulled her into the circle of his body. He filled his hands with her—breasts, belly, hips… She was soft flesh, warmth, and female. His.
Hawk kissed the back of her neck, placing little bites of desire along her spine, to her ribcage, and turned her over. Every breath filled him with her scent. “Stacy,” he said, nuzzling against her.
She came to a little more and grinned at him. “Should you still be up?”
Up was a good word for it, and when she reached for him, he realized that’s exactly what she meant. He chuckled, but it turned quickly to a moan when she squeezed his swelling length. Hawk lifted her and took her breast into his mouth. God, she had the nicest nipples, which rolled between his tongue and set his blood on fire. He tugged, until she made that noise he loved, and in that instant, he felt for her, found her wet, and thrust himself inside her.
“God.” He gripped her, moved against her, and when her hands lightly fluttered on his back and ran down his spine to his ass…he came as if he wasn’t the forty something year old he actually was. His muscles stretched, and the sensation of being wrung out overwhelmed him as he held onto her, just held. And finally he was able to relax. “Shit.”
When she laughed, he pulled out and kissed down her neck, down her chest and belly, and then…she stopped laughing, because he found her with his tongue and sucked her into his mouth. Her back arched, her hands gripped the sheets next to her hips, and with one swirl of his tongue around that little bundle of nerves, she rocketed off the bed. Her legs clamped around his head.
Heaven.
Shit, he was in heaven. He sucked and then bit lightly. Her hands dug into his hair, pulling his face away from her. He wanted to go back. She squeezed her legs and twisted, stopping him. He blew a cool breath over her and laid still against her thigh as she rode the final wave of her orgasm.
She was so still, he had to look up to check on her. He slid over her body and flattened himself to her chest. Her eyes blinked open and were hazy with that post coital drug. He pressed his lips to hers, savored the softness under his mouth.
His phone beeped on the table next to them.
“Might be the kids,” she whispered.
He rolled over, saw it was John, and sat up. “Hey John.”
“Dad. Some guy took Moira.” Panic rang sharp and fierce through his son’s voice. “Are you there? Can you hear me? Dad?”
Hawk’s entire conscious came to sharp focus. “What happened?”
“Willy’s been shot in the leg. And grandma—Grandma’s in the hospital. She was shot. Dad. Shot. In. The. Head. I thought she was dead.”
“Who is with you? Is someone with you?” Hawk stepped into his black cargo pants as he spoke. He turned the phone to speaker and tossed it back to the table.
“Grandpa’s here. He’s pretty shook up. They’re stitching up Willy—Mom?”
Stacy was also up and getting dressed. She didn’t need details to know something was wrong. “I’m here.”
John sniffed. “Someone took Moira. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t get to her.”
“Are the police there? Did you contact the American embassy?” Hawk had pulled on a shirt and was tugging socks onto his feet. “Stacy, who do we have in Europe right now?”
“Luke. Luke is over there doing protection detail for the Prince of Mardine.”
“John, we’re calling everyone. Stay where you are. Stay with Grandpa. Don’t go with anyone. Just—”
“I know, Dad.”
His son knew. His son. Almost a grown man.
“Okay. Give us twenty-five, and we’ll be at the offices.”
“Okay—” John broke off. Almost wasn’t the same. He was still just a kid. “Hurry, Dad.”
Stacy had a bag in her hand, and Hawk reached into his closet for his own. Then they left the house together and jumped into Hawk’s big, black truck, Stacy driving. And it hurt. More than he expected, more than he would ever admit.
She sped down the road without a word, and when she hit the highway, she didn’t slow.
Hawk called the team, setting communications in motion.
They’d just gotten rid of Cortez. “Who now?”
“We’re going to find out,” Stacy stated, her voice low and hard. “And we’re going to get her back.”
“I’m going to kill them, Stacy.” There was more calm in his words than he’d intended, and it struck him. He had no doubt that he would do whatever he had to to get Moira back and to kill the bastard who took her.
As a headache started behind his ear, he pulled the bottle of meds from his leg pocket and downed a pill.
“
You going to be okay?”
He nodded. “Hurry, Stacy,” he said, echoing his son.
She tightened her grip on the wheel and shot ahead until they reached the exit. She took it, getting them to headquarters in record time where she slammed on the brakes.
Malcolm was already there, and as he strode toward the door, Hawk spoke, “I need everything you’ve got on the report out of Germany. I want a trace hooked up to every line in the offices and every cell on the team. If—when—this asshole calls, I want to know where he is. I want a team ready to go as soon as the intel is in.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Meet in the conference room in ten.”
“Yes, sir.” Malcolm disappeared down the hall and into the large computer room at the back of the building.
“Josie, I need two tickets to Frankfurt.”
“Yes, sir.”
In the conference room, Hawk walked over to the computer in the corner and called up Luke Trenton on the webcam. The man answered with a smile and a beer.
Hawk stared. “Kind of early for that, isn’t it, man?”
“Hey, boss. Never too early for a brew when you’re in Europe.” Luke tipped his bottle in greeting.
“Change of plans. I need you on the next flight to Germany.”
“Sure, boss. What’s the assignment?”
“My family—” His voice broke, and he realized maybe autopilot wasn’t the same as calm, cool, and collected. He cleared his throat, felt a hand on his back. “I need you with my family until I get there. I need eyes on the ground, looking for Moira. A two-oh-seven, Luke.”
“Shit.” The beer bottle was set aside. “Do you know who took her? I can get a team together over here. I have contacts.”
“We don’t know. We’re still waiting to hear.” We’re hoping to hear. Fuck. We better hear.
Just then, his phone on the table rang.
Hawk pressed a button on the computer, connecting him to the computer lab. “We connected, Malcolm?”
“Ready to go, Boss.”
Picking up his phone, he touched the screen with a shaking hand.
And there was Moira. The side of her head was bruised. Her lip was split on one side. She’d been crying. His knees gave out as he let out a breath and worked to maintain control. “Baby.”
