Page 24

“I’ve got some of my mom’s homemade meatball soup in here.” Hawk opened up the fridge, grabbed a large glass container, and swung the door shut with his foot. “We could warm it up on the stovetop or in the microwave, whichever you prefer.”

Charlotte—with Remy next to her—strolled over to him, looking sexy as hell in one of his T-shirts. Her legs were long and shapely and fit perfectly around his waist as he thrust into her.

“Soup sounds wonderful.” She patted his dog’s head, wrapped her arms around Hawk’s waist and wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “For some reason, I am suddenly very hungry.”

“Is that right?” He held her close, slid his hands beneath the bottom of his shirt, and palmed her ass cheeks.

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, lifted to her tiptoes, and kissed him.

Just when things were starting to get really good, his phone rang.

“Hold that thought.” He grudgingly broke the kiss, and her forehead thumped against his chest.

“I’ll warm up the stew while you take that.” She kissed him and stepped back. “Saucepan?”

He pointed at one of the bottom cabinets, picked up his phone, and saw Cole’s number.

“Hey, Cole, what’s up?” He leaned back against the counter.

“We have a problem.” His tone was urgent and serious, and it sounded like he was speaking through a headset. “You’re about to have company and not the good kind.”

Hawk straightened, his entire body alert and ready to take action.

Charlotte noticed the change in his demeanor and gave him a worried look. She set the pot on the counter and walked over to him.

“Cole, I’m going to put you on speaker so Charlotte can hear you.” He tapped the screen. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Eddie and I paid the owner of the electronics store a little visit. After a bit of convincing, he told us that he also sold Vincent Kimball a GPS tracker.” Remy’s tail wagged, and he cocked his head to one side, recognizing Cole’s voice. “Luna immediately started working on gaining access to his phone, and it just pinged off a tower out near your place.”

“How could that be?” Charlotte said. “The only thing I’ve had with me all day is my bag, and you already checked it before we left Dulce’s office.”

Hawk had searched every inch of that bag himself.

“Has it been out of your sight at all since then?” Cole asked. “Even for a minute or two?”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s been with me all day.”

“We never lost sight of it.” Hawk quickly ran through their movements.

“Wait a second.” Charlotte cursed under her breath. “Helene came into my office and picked up my bag.”

“Shit, that’s right.” Hawk thought back to when she snatched it up off the chair. “The way she was handling it, she could’ve easily dropped a tracker in one of the pockets.”

“Hang on!” Charlotte dashed toward the guest room, her bare feet slapping against the floor.

Remy jogged after her, and a minute later, she ran back into the kitchen with the dog right behind. He probably thought she was playing a game with him.

“Here.” She held the bag out to Hawk like it contained a bomb.

“Go ahead and take everything out of it.” Hawk checked every item as she removed them from her bag. Her laptop, notebook, and wallet were clean. There were a couple of pens, so he took them apart, and still, nothing.

“That’s everything.” She handed him the bag.

Hawk ran his hand over the seams inside, and they were all intact. He shoved his hand into the larger side pockets—nothing there, either. He squatted down and laid the bag on the floor in front of Remy.

“Seek.” His dog started sniffing and poking at the bag with his nose, shoving it around on the floor. He showed a keen interest in a tiny pocket on the front, then sat down and looked up at Hawk.

“Cole, Remy hit on something.” Hawk could barely wedge his pinky finger into the pocket, but it brushed against something. “There’s definitely something here.” He rifled through his junk drawer and pulled out some needle-nose pliers. “I’ll try not to tear your bag.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “After this is over, I’m burning the stupid thing.”

He inserted the pliers into the inch-wide pocket, carefully gripped whatever was inside, and pulled out a black, plastic rectangular object about the size of an SD card.

“Found it.” Hawk rubbed Remy’s ears and thumped his hand on the dog’s side. “Good job, buddy.”

“That bitch.” Charlotte leaned in for a closer look but kept her hands behind her back, like she was afraid to touch it. “I should’ve known she’d be involved in all of this.”

Hawk turned it over in his hand and read off the information embossed on the back.

“That’s it.” Cole confirmed it was the one Kimball bought at the electronics store. “Destroy it, now.”

Hawk dropped the pliers back in the drawer and grabbed the small hammer. He set the device on the wooden cutting board he made in seventh grade, lifted the hammer, and brought it down on the tracker, smashing it into tiny pieces. He opened the cabinet beneath the sink and swept the pieces of the tracker into the garbage.

“Your perimeter alarm is set?” Cole had been there the day the system went live.

“Always.” The minute someone crossed onto his property, he would know about it.

“Good. We’re in the helo now, and Lucas said it’ll be about thirty to thirty-five minutes before we get to you.” Cole’s voice was slightly staticky, and the muted chop chop chop of the rotor blades could be heard in the background. “We have to assume Kimball knows where you are and that he’s not coming alone. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing how many men he has with him.”

Hawk reached out, curled his fingers around the side of Charlotte’s neck, and looked her in the eyes as he said, “It won’t matter.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that would be the case,” Cole said. “Save some for us, will ya?”

“No promises.” No one came to his home to hurt Charlotte and got away unscathed.

Hawk had been in combat, fighting for his brothers in arms and fulfilling the oath he’d taken when he first joined the Corps— to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic .

This time—this battle —was personal.

“Be safe.” Cole ended the call.

“What do we do?” Charlotte looked scared but determined.

“First things first, you should probably put some pants on.” He gave her a small smile and tugged on the bottom of her shirt. “And I need to get some things from my room.”

She looked down at herself. “Oh, right. Good idea.”

They hustled back to his room, and she scooped her jeans up off the floor next to the bed, which was still messy from their earlier activities. She stepped into them, pulled them up her legs, and tucked his shirt into the waistband.

“Do you have a belt and a long-sleeved shirt with you?” Hawk asked.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Put them on and your shoes, too.” He reached over his shoulder, grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, and yanked it over his head.

“Got it.” Charlotte turned and hustled down the hall.

Hawk tossed his shirt on the bed, opened one of the bottom drawers, and grabbed a black, long-sleeved tech shirt. He shoved his arms in the sleeves and pulled it over his head. The dark tactical pants he’d put on earlier were perfect, and he already had his Glock .45 semiautomatic in a Kydex holster on his right hip.

With the fluidity and ease that came from years of experience, he popped out the magazine, ensured it was full, and slammed it back into place with the butt of his hand. He racked the slide back partially, saw a round in the chamber, then easily tucked the Glock into the holster.

Weapons were safely stashed throughout the house, so Hawk rarely had the need to carry a firearm when he was home. Having Charlotte with him changed everything.

He knelt down, reached under the bed, and dragged out his protective vest. He stood and pulled the state-of-the-art piece of gear over his head. The rip of Velcro was familiar and oddly comforting as he secured it around him.

“Holy moly.” At the sound of her voice, he turned to find Charlotte standing in the doorway, staring at him, her mouth slightly open. “I’ve never seen you”—she waved her hand up and down in front of him—“like that before.”

“Does the gun make you uncomfortable?” He set his hand on the butt of the pistol.

Considering Hawk’s chosen career, that could be a problem going forward. He understood that some people were leery around weapons, but, in the right hands, they were an invaluable tool.

“Are you kidding me?” Her eyebrows popped way up. “I think you look super sexy.”

Hawk couldn’t help himself. He laughed despite the seriousness of their current situation.

“Thanks. You’re pretty sexy yourself.” He stomped over to her, put a finger beneath her chin, tilted it up, and kissed her. “As much as I would prefer picking you up, dropping you on that bed, and having my way with you again, it’ll have to wait.”

“Ah, man.” Her exaggerated disappointment was adorable. “Come on, Remy. Let’s go get you a treat.” His dog popped up from his bed in the corner of the room, trotted over to her, and they left his bedroom.

“You’re going to spoil him,” he called out to her.

“I knooow,” she shouted right back to him.

He smiled, shook his head, and stalked over to his specially designed walk-in closet. The double barn-style doors easily slid aside, and he headed directly to the large gun safe built into the back of the closet. He reached up, grabbed his black duffle bag off one of the shelves, made sure his NVGs—night vision goggles—were inside, and set it on the floor.

Hawk got the suppressor for his Glock, grabbed extra magazines and a box of ammo for his pistol, and shoved all of them into the bag. He scanned the selection of handguns for one suited to Charlotte’s smaller hands and decided on the PPQ subcompact 9mm. His mom had tried it out a few times and loved it so much, he bought her one for her birthday.

He verified there were fifteen hollow-point rounds in the extended magazine, slid the pistol into its holster, and set it in the bag. Add those fifteen rounds to the one already in the chamber and she should be good to go.

He had no idea if she’d ever held a handgun before, let alone fired one, and hoped she wouldn’t have to tonight. But in a worst-case scenario situation, having a loaded weapon was far better than not having one.

Hangers scraped across the bar as he slid aside a bunch of clothes and reached to the back wall. He wrapped his hand around the custom-molded grip of his black, Hoyt VTM 34 compound bow. Next to it was a quiver containing ten carbon arrows with steel fixed-blade broadhead tips. They were razor-sharp and designed to take down a full-grown bear. A human male would be easy work.

He grabbed them both, swung the safe shut, and spun the dial to lock it.

Duffle bag in one hand, his bow and loaded quiver in the other, he left the closet and headed down the hall.

Charlotte was already in the kitchen, spoiling his dog, and he set his bow on the island. He set his gear bag on the floor and leaned the quiver against it.

“Have you ever handled a gun before?” Hawk tugged the PPQ from the bag and set it on the counter in front of her.

She gave it a long look but didn’t seem nervous or recoil at the sight of it, the way some people might.

“I’ve taken a couple of lessons at the range using a gun that looked kinda like that one.” She shifted her gaze from the pistol to Hawk. “Sometimes, I have to go to one of our remote sites, and they aren’t always in the best part of town, so my boss thought it would be a good idea to have protection.” Hawk definitely didn’t like the sound of that. “I know how to safely handle a firearm, how to load it, and I’ve killed a lot of paper targets. Unfortunately, I never took enough lessons to feel comfortable purchasing one of my own.” She shook her head. “With what’s happening now, I wish I had stuck with it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. Safe handling is a good foundation, so you’re already ahead of the game.” He removed the pistol from the holster. “This is a 9mm semiautomatic with a fifteen-round magazine, and it currently has one in the chamber.” He explained what all of that meant as he pressed his thumb against a button on the grip to release the magazine. “You shouldn’t need to do this, though.”

He showed her the bullets and how they were stacked in the magazine. Next, he locked back the slide, the bullet in the chamber popped out, and he caught it in midair. He pressed his thumb down on the slide stop lever, and the slide slammed back into place.

“Hold out your hand for me.” She extended her hand, and he set the handgun in her palm. “I want you to get a feel for the weight of it.”

“It’s not as heavy as the other gun I used.” She moved her hand up and down.

“This is a subcompact, so the grip might feel smaller. You were probably practicing with a full-size Glock. Similar to mine.” He tapped the butt of his gun.

Hawk took the PPQ from her hand and set it back on the counter.

“Go ahead and pick it up and show me how you hold it.”

She wiped her palms down the side of her jeans and took a deep breath.

“Don’t worry, Sweets.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back. “It’s not loaded, so you can’t hurt anything. Unless you decide to hit me over the head with it. That would hurt.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at him, but her shoulders softened. His intent had been to lessen the tension so she would relax—he was happy to see it had worked.

She wrapped her right hand around the grip, and he was impressed when she kept her index finger away from the trigger and, instead, extended it along the barrel. Most people automatically curled their finger over the trigger, which was an unsafe habit. Her left hand came up and wrapped around the grip and over her other hand perfectly.

“Excellent,” he said. “You’re a natural.”

“I don’t know about that.” A beautiful blush filled her cheeks at his compliment. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Okay, next, loading it.” Hawk walked her through it one step at a time, had her do it on her own twice, and was confident she could handle it. “Why don’t you put this on your belt.” He handed her the holster.

“Is it normal for my stomach to be all jittery?” She undid her belt, threaded one end through the slots on the back of the holster, and slid it until it was resting comfortably on the right side of her waist.

“At first, definitely. But the more you practice, the more second-nature it will become.” Hawk spent a few minutes helping her adjust the holster and made sure the angle was correct. He had her holster and unholster the pistol a few times to ensure she could easily access the weapon. “How does it feel?”

“Strange but oddly comforting at the same time.” Charlotte rested her hand on his forearm. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His phone vibrated in a pocket on his vest. He yanked it free and saw Luna’s number. He tapped the screen, put her on speaker, then set the phone on the counter. “Hey, there. Charlotte’s here with me, and you’re on speaker.”

“I got a location on Kimball—he’s about ten miles out from your location.” Luna wasted no time with pleasantries. “At his current rate of speed, allowing for variations due to the curvature of the roads out there, you’ve got about twenty minutes before he’s at your front gate.” Computer keys clicked, his phone beeped, and a notification bubble appeared on his screen. “I just sent you his most recent GPS coordinates. At least you’ll know what direction he’s coming from. Also, HRA recently purchased a black, windowless cargo van, plate number VRZ-8134, and no surprise, Kimball is the one who approved the requisition. I’m guessing he’s using that or the Tahoe you saw him in before. Still no information on how many guys he has with him.”

“Team status?” He crossed his arms.

“ETA, approximately twenty-five minutes.” More clicking in the background. “Hawk, unless something happens to slow Kimball down, there’s a good chance he’ll be there before the team.”

“We’re ready for them.” He looked at Charlotte, and she gave him one succinct nod.

“If anything changes, I’ll let you know,” Luna said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Hawk ended the call and tucked his phone back in his vest. “I want to show you something.” He took her hand and led her quickly through the house and to a door at the far end of the hall. “There’s something in here I want you to see.”

Remy’s claws clicked across the hardwood floor behind them. He stayed close, as if sensing the heavy tension hanging in the air.

Hawk released her hand, pulled a set of keys from his pocket, and unlocked the door. He swung the door open and stepped aside so she could enter.