by Laura Scott
Hawk hesitated, then nodded. His hand was warm around hers but she refused to let that distract her. “Dear Lord, we thank You for keeping us safe and for this food we are about to eat. Please guide us on Your chosen path, amen.”
“Amen,” Lizzy mimicked.
“Amen,” Hawk added in his hoarse voice.
She was pleased he’d joined in the prayer and stared for a moment at their joined hands, before forcing herself to let him go. James used to attend church with her, but it seemed as if Hawk had forgotten that part of his life.
She hoped and prayed Hawk would find his way back to his faith.
“The guys will be here in a couple of hours,” Hawk said, breaking the silence.
Jillian glanced through the windows at the overcast sky. “That’s fine. I’m hoping Lizzy can use the playground before it rains or snows.”
“The temperature is above freezing, so it shouldn’t snow.”
“It would be nice to have a white Christmas,” she said. Then she realized that what she should be praying for was to be safe at home, with the bad guys behind bars by Christmas.
A seemingly impossible task.
“I wanna swing!” Lizzy had glommed onto the comment about the playground. “And go down the slide!”
“We’ll check it out after breakfast,” Jillian promised.
“I’ll tag along,” Hawk said.
She was surprised by his offer. “I’m sure we’re safe here if you have other things to do.”
Hawk rubbed at his sore shoulder for a moment. “I don’t have anything else to do until the guys get here.”
“You’ve been taking your antibiotic, right?” she asked, noticing the gesture. “Maybe I should take a look at your wounds.”
“The wounds are fine. The antibiotics are working, and the skin around the wound is red but not obviously infected. At least, not yet.”
She feared it was only a matter of time but said nothing. Hawk would keep pressing forward until he was physically incapable of doing anything more. Wasn’t that how he’d gotten himself out of the Appalachian Mountains? She could only imagine how difficult it had been for him to drag himself from the plane wreck, hiding while men combed the area for him, and then still managing to find relative safety.
It was humbling to realize the man she’d married had an underlying will of steel.
Upon finishing breakfast, Jillian began cleaning up and washing the dishes. Hawk joined her at the sink, pitching in to help.
“I can do this,” she offered.
“I know. So can I.”
She smiled and shook her head at his stubbornness. With the two of them working together, the task didn’t take long, and soon they were bundled up in their outdoor gear and crossing the clearing toward the playground.
“I want Mr. Hawk to push me,” Lizzy said after Jillian lifted her into the swing. “I wanna go really high!”
Hawk looked pleased with the request and eagerly stepped forward. Jillian moved back to give them room.
Hawk was tentative at first, pushing Lizzy carefully as if she were a fragile doll that might break. But Lizzy pumped her legs and cried, “Higher! I wanna go higher!”
He glanced at Jillian as if needing approval, before pushing Lizzy high in the air. The little girl squealed with glee and a wide smile softened Hawk’s face.
“You should have figured she’s a thrill seeker like her father,” Jillian pointed out.
“Thrill seeker? I was never like that,” he protested.
She arched a brow. “Have you forgotten that death trap of a motorcycle you used to ride before we got married?”
“Motorcycle? I drove a motorcycle?” He looked genuinely confused and she realized he hadn’t remembered that part of their life. Those carefree days before he was sent overseas.
“Never mind.” She waved a hand, wishing she’d never brought it up. “It doesn’t matter.”
When Lizzy got bored with the playground they headed back inside. She’d just found another movie on the kids’ channel for Lizzy to watch when two SUVs pulled up in front of the cabin.
She recognized Mike Callahan, Matt Callahan and his K-9 Duchess, but the other man who emerged from the second SUV was a stranger.
Hawk opened the door and gestured for them to come inside.
“Hawk, you remember Ryker Tillman,” Mike said, gesturing to the dark-haired stranger who wore his hair military short.
“Glad you could make it.” Hawk held out his hand.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” Ryker asked. “From years ago, not just the couple of months ago when we worked together to help Mike.”
Hawk narrowed his gaze, staring at the guy intently. “You were in my special ops platoon. But not on my team.”
Ryker smiled. “Is that a memory or a calculated guess?”
Hawk grimaced. “The latter, I’m afraid. My memory is still in bits and pieces.”
“It’s okay,” Ryker assured him. “It was a long time ago. I’m just glad you’re alive and well.”
“Thanks. Oh, and this is Jillian.”
“Ma’am,” Ryker said with a nod.
“Please call me Jillian.” She felt out of place amongst the group, so she went to the sink to boil some eggs, thinking it might be a good idea to have egg salad sandwiches for lunch. Not that there was enough food to feed all of them, but it gave her something to do.
“Ryker, I—um, need you to check out this photo for me.” Hawk went over to pull the two photographs out of the brown envelope.
“Yeah, Mike texted a picture of them to me, but the image was too grainy to make out the guy’s features.” Ryker took the photographs from Hawk’s hands and peered down at them for a long moment.
Jillian put the eggs in a pan of water and set them on the stove. After turning the electric burner on, she searched for the pan cover.
“I’m pretty sure this is Master Sergeant Colin Yonkers,” Ryker said finally.
The pan cover slipped from Jillian’s fingers, hitting the floor with a loud clang. The four men in the kitchen turned to stare at her in surprise.
“What’s wrong?” Hawk sensed her distress. “Do you recognize the name?”
Jillian’s mouth went dry and she reached a shaky hand toward the photograph. “I need to see that.”
Ryker handed it over and she peered at the face of the American soldier standing next to the insurgent, who was holding some sort of assault rifle.
There was no mistake.
“It’s him,” she whispered. How could she have missed it the first time she’d looked at the photo?
“Who?” Hawk slipped his arm around her waist as if sensing she might fall.
She raised her gaze to his. “The man who came to tell me you were dead. Master Sergeant Colin Yonkers. I’m pretty sure I still have his card in the box of your things I kept in the basement.”
Mike let out a low whistle. “That’s an interesting twist.”
Jillian stared at the photograph, double-checking to make sure it wasn’t her own mind playing tricks on her.
But that day was clearly etched in her memory. This soldier in the photograph was the same man who’d come to tell her James had died in the line of duty.
But it was all a lie.
This man was the criminal responsible for the plane crash that had nearly killed Hawk.
The man who had taken away her husband.
NINE
Hawk tightened his grip around Jillian’s waist. Her face was pale and her fingers trembled with fear or anger or both.
He could relate.
“Easy,” he cautioned. His concern for Jillian momentarily displaced his anger over knowing that Yonkers had betrayed their country. Betrayed Hawk’s team.
Had Yonkers been one of the soldiers who’d combed the wooded Appalachi
an mountainside for him? Hawk wished he could remember.
“I can’t believe it,” Jillian whispered. “The same man who sold guns to the enemy came to tell me you were dead.”
“I know.” He ached to pull her close and to kiss her but didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in front of their audience.
“I remember Yonkers,” Ryker spoke up.
Hawk turned to look at his fellow soldier. The one he hadn’t remembered serving in Afghanistan with him. “What do you remember?”
Ryker hesitated a moment, glancing at Mike and Matt before continuing. “I remember he was trained as a special ops soldier, the way you and I were. I was assigned to the Charlie team, but you were in the Bravo team.”
Bravo sounded right, although Hawk wished he could remember the names and faces of his teammates, the ones who had died in the plane crash, more clearly. “And where was Yonkers assigned?”
“Alpha team.” Ryker shrugged and spread his hands. “We were all sent in different directions, to infiltrate the insurgents.”
Hawk remembered that much, as well. “So the entire Alpha team could have been involved in the arms dealing. Who was their commanding officer?”
Again, Ryker looked puzzled. “All special ops teams reported up to the same commanding officer, Colonel McCann, now known as General McCann.”
The name triggered something in Hawk’s fragmented memory. “Major Rick Barton reported to the colonel, didn’t he?”
Jillian sucked in a harsh breath.
“Yes, along with Major Todd Hayes,” Ryker admitted. “But there were others, as well. It wasn’t as if Yonkers was the captain in charge of Alpha, the way you were in charge of Bravo.”
He’d been in charge of the Bravo team? Hawk hadn’t remembered that, either. Maybe his mind had shut out all things military while he was in survival mode on the mountain. Memories that were too painful to deal with.
Or maybe he simply didn’t remember as much as he’d originally thought. The memory fragment of Rick Barton could be nothing more than his imagination.
A cold tightness squeezed his chest. Did he have this all wrong? He’d been so focused on Barton—had he been chasing the wrong man?
None of it made any sense.
“We’ll investigate Yonkers, see if we can find out what he’s been up to these past five years,” Mike said.
Hawk nodded. “He must have friends in high places to send highly trained men with guns after us.”
“Understood,” Mike agreed.
“Could be he’s part of a mercenary group,” Ryker offered. “A lot of soldiers joined them after leaving the army.”
Mercenaries were known to take dangerous jobs for high pay. It was a possibility he hadn’t considered. “You’re right. It’s an angle we need to explore.”
Jillian pulled away from Hawk, quickly rinsed the pan cover she’d dropped and placed it over the eggs on the stove.
Hawk wished he knew what she was thinking.
Mike, Matt and Ryker took seats at the kitchen table. Hawk glanced at Jillian before joining them. She stood with her back to them, staring down at the pot of eggs, waiting for them to boil.
Mike took over the computer, using it with an ease Hawk envied. He could do the basics required to run his private investigator business but knew he lacked the skills Mike possessed. Pursuing a job as a private investigator allowed him the flexibility he needed to dig into Barton’s past. With a faked background, he knew he’d never have made it into the police academy, and becoming a PI was the next best thing.
The pages on the screen flipped from one subject to the next as Mike started with some of the well-known mercenary groups.
“Here!” Excitement punctuated Mike’s tone. He turned the screen so Hawk could see it better. “Check this out.”
“The Blake-Moore group?” Hawk shrugged. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“Maybe not, but Yonkers’s name is listed as a member. And look, the two founders are Kevin Blake and Harper Moore. They were soldiers, too. Does either of them look familiar to you?” Mike asked.
Hawk stared at the two photographs on the screen, trying to fit them into the empty puzzle-piece slots of his memory. “I don’t think so. But Ryker would know better than I would.”
Ryker slowly shook his head. “Sorry, but I can’t place them, either. Could be they were over there, but I don’t recognize them.”
“It’s a good find,” Mike insisted. “I think it’s possible the men who came after you and Jillian were members of this mercenary group.”
“Because I have the photograph that implicates Yonkers?” Hawk tried to understand how this fitted. “Seems extreme. Why would Blake-Moore risk it? I ended up killing one of their men fighting back in self-defense.”
“Maybe Blake or Moore were in on the arms deal?” Matt suggested. “If that was the case, they all have a lot to lose.”
Hawk warmed to the idea. He wished he could place these two men who’d formed their own mercenary group. He tapped the screen. “Who hires these mercenary groups?”
Ryker, Matt and Mike all exchanged a knowing look.
“Anyone can hire them,” Ryker finally said. “Private companies, for example, might need to hire protection for bigwigs traveling to dangerous areas of the continent.”
“What about the US government?” Hawk pressed.
There was another moment of silence before Ryker nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard that the government hires private groups like this, too. It’s sometimes easier to use hired guns than to justify sending military troops.”
That made sense to Hawk. “So guys like Barton and Hayes could have hired Yonkers and others to come after me.”
“Anything is possible,” Mike admitted. “But I’m not sure it’s the likely scenario. Private groups like Blake-Moore don’t have the same government oversight that the military has. Could be that Yonkers and whoever was working with him started something while deployed in Afghanistan and carried it over to the private sector.”
“Yeah,” Ryker chimed in. He spread his hands. “After all, who would know?”
“The weapons have to come from somewhere,” Hawk pointed out.
“True. Maybe they still have an inside source within the army.” Matt reached down to pat Duchess, who’d come in from the living room. “Regardless, it’s a place to start.”
The task of investigating a private mercenary group was daunting. Hawk had no idea where to start.
“I still have the letters you sent me,” Jillian said, breaking the silence.
Hawk glanced at her with a frown. “Letters?”
“Yes.” She turned to face him. “The ones you sent from Afghanistan. I’m certain you mentioned some of the guys by name.”
For a moment he felt a surge of excitement and then remembered the damage done in her classroom. “I’m sure they already searched your house, Jilly,” he gently pointed out. “The same way they searched your classroom.”
“Yes, but they missed the envelope in my classroom. Maybe they missed the letters, as well?” Jillian had taken the eggs off the stove and was running them under cold water. “When I was going through your things, I took the letters and put them in Lizzy’s room. They may not have found them there.”
Hawk considered the possibility. As much as he wanted to know what was in the letters he’d sent his wife, he wasn’t convinced they would be helpful. “Not sure it’s worth the risk. If I was Yonkers and had mercenaries to do my bidding, I’d have someone staked out at your place. The same way they were staked out at the school.”
“Would be nice to know what information may be in the letters,” Mike pointed out. “Who knows, maybe you mention either Kevin Blake or Harper Moore by name.”
“It would be a good link to have,” Ryker agreed. “Something to go along with the photographs.”
�
��I can show you where the letters are,” Jillian offered.
“No. You’re not going along this time,” Hawk said firmly. “Remember last time?”
Jillian stared at him for a long moment. He tried not to fidget in his seat. It was almost impossible for him to deny Jillian anything, but he knew forcing her to stay safe with Lizzy was the right thing to do.
She broke away from his gaze and left the kitchen without saying a word.
Taking a big chunk of his heart with her.
* * *
Jillian plopped on the sofa next to Lizzy, fighting the urge to cry.
She wasn’t sure why she was so upset. After experiencing the gunfire at the school, she’d decided her role was to stay with Lizzy, to keep her safe.
But she wanted Hawk to be safe, too.
The thought of losing him made her sick to her stomach.
She couldn’t lose him. Not after finding him after all these years.
“Mommy, will you play dolls with me?” Lizzy asked.
She forced a smile. “Sure.”
Lizzy took a throw blanket from the sofa and made a tent over the coffee table. “This will be Belle’s house.”
“I see,” Jillian commented. Her daughter was creative when it came to playing, and Jillian remembered how she and James had once talked about having a large family.
At the time, she hadn’t wanted Lizzy to be an only child like her. James had agreed.
Did Hawk even remember that conversation? She doubted it.
Jillian closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out in prayer. God would watch over them.
Hadn’t He watched over James during the past five years?
The murmur of male voices piqued her interest, but she forced herself to play with Lizzy. Caring for her daughter was the most important thing right now.
She never should have mentioned the letters.
Lizzy played with Belle, making the doll dance under the tent as if the area were a ballroom. Jillian used a stubby stick from the wood sitting in front of the fireplace and used it as the Beast.
When Hawk had chosen Belle as a gift for Lizzy, had he envisioned himself as the Beast? She hoped not. The scar didn’t matter, it was the man inside that was attractive to her.
