Tires crunched over gravel, and Hawk’s headlights swept across the house. He slowed to a stop in front of the three-car garage, pressed a button on the rearview mirror, and waited for the center door to roll up. The overhead light flicked on. He pulled in and shut off the engine.

Charlotte’s gaze skimmed over the large room, and she turned to him. “This is the cleanest garage I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks.” One corner of his mouth lifted.

He hurried around to her side to open her door and helped her out. He swung her door shut and opened the back door for Remy to hopped out.

His dad had an impressive workshop that was always neat and clean. Growing up, whenever Hawk or his brother, Daniel, helped their dad with a project, he would turn it into a life lesson. They learned how to focus from using dangerous power tools, discipline from cleaning up their mess when they were done, and the importance of keeping things organized and always in the same spot.

“If you always put things in the same spot, you’ll always know where to find them” had been one of his father’s mantras.

Unfortunately, his brother either forgot or disregarded most of the valuable life lessons their father imparted.

If he hadn’t, maybe Daniel would still be alive today.

“Hey.” Charlotte set her hand gently on his shoulder. “Where did you go? I said your name a couple of times, but you seemed so far away.”

“Sorry, it was nothing.” He shoved the horrific memory of finding his brother lying face-down in the river to the back of his brain. “Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“Sure.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and her disappointment in his brush-off was obvious … and understandable.

“I’m sorry.” He’d gotten too good at avoiding the topic of his brother’s death. “I was thinking about my brother.” Now was not the best time to dredge up painful family history. But if he wanted her to share her secrets with him, he had to be willing to do the same. “Tell you what, let’s go inside so you can get your stuff put away. Then we can both share.” He placed his hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Charlotte put her hand over his, turned her face, and softly kissed his palm.

The sweet, almost innocent action was the sexiest thing he’d ever experienced.

“Your garage really is incredible.” She took in the entire space.

“My dad taught me well.” He chuckled, happy for the lighter topic, and reached into the back seat to grab her little suitcase.

When he was a kid growing up on the reservation, his family lived a modest yet fulfilling life in a double-wide trailer. His dad was a civil engineer, and his mother was a stay-at-home mom who volunteered at their school. If there was a fundraiser, she was the first in line to sign up.

Like his dad and his workshop, his mom took a great deal of pride in keeping a tidy home and maintaining a bountiful garden that provided them with enough fruits and vegetables to can for year-round enjoyment. His parents knew what it was like to go without, and they didn’t want that for their kids.

Hawk and Daniel grew up without some of the modern conveniences other kids had—dishwasher, dryer, cable television, fancy computers. But, to Hawk, hand-washing and drying dishes and hanging clothes on a line outside was a worthwhile trade-off to live in a home surrounded by hundreds of acres of some of the most beautiful land ever created.

Daniel hadn’t felt the same way—he’d always resented not having those things and had been willing to do whatever it might take to attain them. Even break the law.

Charlotte followed him to the door that led into the house and waited while he tapped the four-digit entry code into the keypad. They stepped into a small mudroom with cabinets, a built-in bench, hooks to hang coats, and open storage cubbies for shoes and boots.

Hawk quickly disarmed the alarm, unlaced his tech boots, and toed them off. She sat on the bench, removed her hiking shoes, and placed them next to his boots in one of the cubbies. Remy moved past them and trotted over to his water dish.

“Come on in.” He gripped the handle on her suitcase and carried it into the kitchen. The thing had wheels, but he didn’t want to hear the clack-clack-clack of it rolling across the tile kitchen floor. “We’ll put your things in the guest room, then I’ll open a bottle of wine.”

Hawk hoped her suitcase and its contents would be the only thing staying in the guest room. He would never rush her into anything she wasn’t ready for, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep knowing she was right across the hall.

Once Remy was done slobbering water everywhere, he moved over to his basket of toys, plucked out one of the ducks, then plopped down on his bed.

“Wine sounds great.” Charlotte surveyed his kitchen. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a kitchen like this.”

“My mom helped me with the design.” She also helped him select the walnut cabinets, the complementary paint colors, and convinced him the black granite with the reddish-brown and white veins running through it was the perfect choice for the countertops. “She was the one who told me about cabinet fronts for appliances.”

He reached out, tugged on a cabinet handle next to him, and swung open a door to reveal the inside of the refrigerator.

“I love that.” She walked over to the sink. “Let me guess, dishwasher?” She tapped the front of the cabinet on the right side of the sink.

“Yep.” He was right-handed, so it made sense for the dishwasher to be on that side of the sink.

“Your mom has great taste, and the way she laid everything out is functionally perfect.” She leaned back against the edge of the counter.

The house was open-concept, so the kitchen opened up into a great room area with a dark leather sofa, two matching side chairs, a coffee table, and a table at each end of the couch. They all sat atop a large, woven area rug in brown, burnt orange, light blue, and yellow, with Native American designs of overlapping diamonds and arrows bordered by a zigzag pattern.

The rug had been on the floor of his grandparents’ home and had been kept in climate-controlled storage since they died. His folks knew how much he loved it, so they’d gotten it professionally cleaned and gave it to Hawk as a housewarming gift.

On one wall, there was an authentic Blackfeet medicine shield made from the hide of a buffalo stretched around a wooden hoop. A black bison was painted in the center, and attached below it was a cluster of feathers with colorful wooden beads. The piece was given to him by his great uncle, who never had any children of his own.

“What an interesting-looking man.” Charlotte stood in front of a large black-and-white photograph on the wall across from the medicine shield. “Is he part of your family?”

He strolled over to stand next to her.

“That’s my paternal great-grandfather. He was ninety-three when my brother took that picture.” He’d insisted on wearing his full ceremonial dress for the photo. “He died eight months later, when I was fourteen.”

Daniel had been a gifted photographer, and their parents had done their best to nurture his talent. They’d paid for photography classes. Their dad built a small darkroom at the back of his shop. They even saved money to buy him a high-tech camera for Christmas one year.

Unfortunately, none of that was enough to ward off the demons that tormented his brother.

“There is so much character and wisdom in his face.” Charlotte seemed enthralled by the image.

The photo emphasized each deep line and wrinkle in his great-grandfather’s skin, weathered from years of being outside. And the feathered headdress he wore was a bit haggard. His once-sharp brown eyes were milky with cataracts he’d refused to treat because, as he used to say, “I don’t want nobody pokin’ around in my eyeballs.” The last few years of his life, he’d been nearly blind and unable to track. But in this photo, his shoulders were powerfully set, and his chin lifted proudly as he stared directly into the camera.

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed for a closer look. “That looks just like the medallion you’re wearing.”

“It’s one and the same.” He told her how his great-grandfather had wanted him to have it. “It’s supposed to bring the wearer luck or good fortune.” He turned and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You being here with me is proof that it works.”

She blushed, hesitated a second or two—as if gathering her courage—then looped her arms around his neck. “Whatever the reason, I’m very happy to be here with you.”

“The reason you’re finally here with me is far from ideal, but I’m not gonna lie, I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

He lowered his head, and she rose to her tiptoes. Their mouths connected, and every neuron in Hawk’s body sparked to life. No woman had ever had this kind of powerful effect on him. They were like two puzzle pieces that locked together perfectly.

As much as he’d like to throw her over his shoulder and take her to his bed, Hawk reluctantly ended the kiss. He didn’t want to rush her, and right now, it was important for her to get settled in. After months of her living in a state of upheaval and uncertainty, he wanted her to feel like she was finally on solid ground.

“You are potent, Charlotte Cavanaugh.” He placed his lips against her forehead.

“I am?” She truly had no idea of her appeal.

“Yes, you are.” He put his arm over her shoulder. “Come on, let me finish showing you around, then you can get settled in.”

“It must have been wonderful, having family around when you were growing up,” she said.

“Family and community are incredibly important to our culture. Not just because it provides a solid foundation for our identity as a people, but it helps to keep our history alive.” Hawk grew up surrounded by multiple generations, and his life was all the richer for having done so.

Charlotte moved to the center of the room and tilted her head back to take in the high, wood-beamed ceilings.

“Your home really is gorgeous, Hawk.” She glanced over at him. “It’s so warm and inviting.”

Her gaze traveled around the great room area and stopped on the commanding stacked-stone fireplace dominating the far wall. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she glided across the room, deftly avoiding the furniture in her path, and stopped in front of the fireplace.

“This is absolutely stunning.” She smoothed her hand over the top of the rough-edged mantel, and Hawk practically felt her touch against his skin.

“It’s a solid piece of black walnut from a tree that fell on some property I own on the reservation.” Hawk set her suitcase at the entrance to the hallway and walked over to the fireplace. “Most of the wood was salvageable, so I was able to use it for a few things around here. What I didn’t use, I gave to my dad and one of his neighbors.”

“I love how you left this edge unfinished.” She ran her fingertips along the knobby bark.

“I made those from the same tree.” He pointed to the coffee table and end tables. “Incorporating pieces that I’ve built with my own hands and surrounding myself with family artifacts helps keep me grounded in what really matters—my people, family, friends, and the land.”

“That’s so great.” Charlotte wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him. “You do beautiful work.”

He was pleased she was becoming comfortable enough to initiate physical contact with him.

“I do okay.” He circled his arms around her waist, lowered his head, and kissed her.

She moved closer, melted into him, and matched his tongue stroke for stroke. As he tightened his hold on her, their hearts beat in tandem, and Hawk was overcome by a powerful sense of connection that went far beyond the physical. He was stunned when a life with her flashed before his eyes—making a home together, children, grandchildren. He could practically hear the laughter of their children playing outside.

He dipped his tongue into her mouth for another taste, nibbled across her lips, then slowly and, with great reluctance, drew his mouth from hers.

“Hawk.” She set her forehead against his chest and whispered, “When you kiss me like that, my entire body goes haywire and I want things I’m not sure I can have.”

“If what you want is to be with me, then you have that.” He cupped the sides of her head and lifted her chin to him. “You have me , Charlotte.”

“That is what I want,” she said. “So much.”

She set her cheek against his chest, and they held each other close. After a few moments of enjoying just holding each other, she propped her chin on his chest and smiled up at him.

“Before I put my things away, I’d love to hear about these other fascinating pieces you have.” She added, “Then, if you’re still interested, I’d like to tell you about my mom.”

“Are you sure you want to talk about it?” Hawk was honored she was willing to trust him with something that was obviously painful for her.

“I’m very sure.” She placed a kiss on the center of his chest, then turned to face the glass-front cabinet he’d built. “Tell me about this beautiful piece.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Did you build this one, too?”

“I did.” And it had been a bitch getting it just the way he wanted it. “I wanted a place to display some other artifacts that have been in my family for generations.”

He pointed out the small beaded pouch with a strip of leather for a strap; a pair of small moccasins missing some beads, the bottoms dark and worn smooth from years of wear; a necklace made with wooden beads strung together with the talons of a golden eagle, along with a few other cherished pieces.

Someday, he would pass them all down to his own children.

“I love you that you honor your family by displaying all of these wonderful objects and in such a gorgeous, handmade piece of furniture, too.” She ran her hand down the edge of the cabinet. “You’re very talented, Hawk.”

“Thank you, but I can’t take all the credit. I couldn’t have built it without Michaleen O’Halleran’s help.” Hawk knew what he liked and knew his way around a workshop. But he wasn’t nearly as skilled at furniture-making as the patriarch of the O’Halleran clan—that man was a master craftsman. “He’s the father to all of the O’Halleran siblings. I asked him if he would be willing to draw up some basic plans for a few pieces, and lucky for me, he said he’d love to. We spoke once on the phone about what I had in mind, and the next day, the plans showed up in my email and were exactly what I wanted.”

“I can tell you have a great deal of respect for him,” Charlotte said.

“I absolutely do.” He was a bear of a man with an artist’s soul who loved his wife the way a man should, and, together, they raised six incredible humans.

That said, mistaking Michaleen’s gentle, creative nature for weakness would be a huge mistake. The man had deadly skills and would not hesitate to kill to protect the people he cared about.

“Come on.” He took her hand and walked to the hallway. “Let’s put your suitcase away so you can relax and make yourself at home.”

He grabbed the handle of her suitcase, picked it up, and led her toward the first room on the right.

She slowed to take in one of the candid photos on the wall. “She’s lovely.”

“That’s my Kaasii, my grandmother on my mom’s side,” he said. “She was smiling at something my grandfather said off camera.”

That was another one of his brother’s photographs. Daniel used to have it sitting on the dresser in his childhood bedroom, right next to an old scuffed-up baseball from when he played Little League.

“She must’ve really loved your grandfather.” Charlotte stated it as if she’d known them.

“She did, very much. And he loved her.” He moved up behind her and stared at the photo he’d passed by a hundred times before. “How can you tell?”

“Because there’s love and a shared history in that smile, and there’s just”—she tilted her head—“something about her eyes and the way she’s looking at him.”

“They were so much fun, always teasing each other and laughing at their private jokes. My grandmother was outgoing and never met a stranger. My grandfather, on the other hand, was usually more reserved and quietly intense.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” She grinned and bumped him with her hip.

“Yeah, I’ve been told I’m a lot like him.” His mother used to call Hawk “Mr. Serious.” “But my grandfather was different with my grandmother—more lighthearted. She was only about five feet tall, and he used to call her his little honeysuckle because she would make her own perfumed oil from the honeysuckle blooms that grew wild around their house.”

Even the slightest hint of honeysuckle made him think of his Kaasii.

“They sound wonderful.” She smoothed her hand down the front of his shirt. “I wish I could’ve met them.”

“They would’ve loved you.” He kissed the tip of her nose, lifted her suitcase, and headed into the guest room. “You can keep your stuff in here.”

He set the suitcase on the lodgepole pine bed, then walked over to the closet and slid the door aside.

“There’s plenty of space if you want to hang anything. And feel free to use any of the empty drawers in that dresser.” He pointed toward a closed door. “There’s a connected bath right through there.”

“Okay, thank you.” She dropped down onto the edge of the bed, her shoulders drooped forward, and she started playing with her thumbnail.

“What is it, Sweets?” He squatted down in front of her, gently pulled her hands apart and held them in his own. He rubbed his thumbs across her knuckles.

“How long do you think this nightmare is going to last?” She lifted her chin with a look of pleading in her eyes.

“I wish I could answer that, but I can’t.” Being suddenly uprooted from your life, your routine, was never easy. “Just know that we are doing everything to make sure you’ll be safe from these assholes.”

“Wait … no, no.” She shook her head. “I’m not worried about me. I meant, how long is the nightmare going to last for all of those innocent kids out there? What I’m dealing with is nothing compared with what those poor children have endured at the hands of those monsters. We need to make sure they can never hurt anyone again.”

There was the fire he’d seen from her earlier.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Charlotte’s outrage on behalf of innocent kids outweighed her concern for her own safety. “We will take those bastards down, along with anyone else who’s involved.”

Dark Ops was the best of the best—those evil pieces of shit didn’t stand a chance against them.