Page 52 of Stranded with the SEAL

“Yes, this is Marco Acero. Lieutenant Richards, please.”

Hawk could just see the desk.

Steele hunched in his desk chair. It was several minutes before he spoke again. “Lieutenant, this is Marco Acero calling again. Is there any word on Miss Barrons?” He rubbed his temples. “I see. In the video, was she driving herself or was someone else driving?”

So he was trying to track Olivia down, and without much success. Trevor shifted silently onto his opposite arm. He couldn’t get a good shot at Steele from this angle.

Logan was back on the com system. “Olivia and Gallant are heading toward Steele’s office.”

Get off the damn phone, Steele!

Steele opened a drawer and withdrew a picture frame. While Trevor couldn’t see what it held, he’d bet money it was a woman they both knew well, a woman who at that very moment was making her way toward this office and back into her fiancé’s arms.

Bitter bile coated the back of Hawk’s throat.

Steele continued. “I disagree, Lieutenant. She would not have left of her own accord. If she was driving, then clearly there was someone else in the vehicle controlling her actions.” His hand balled up into a fist. “Fine, yes, I’ll do that.” He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair.

Damn it.

He could only get a shot at Steele’s arm.

A shot in the arm was better than no shot at all. He popped two bullets into Steele’s left arm and sprung from his crouch on the floor. Jax was right behind him, weapon drawn.

Steele was screaming and pulled a gun from beneath his desk. Hawk shot it out of his hand before Steele could train it on them. Hawk knew he should kill him now, just like that, a few rounds to the chest and the bastard would be gone forever. But he wanted to see Steele suffer just like Ralph.

“Remember me, motherfucker?” he asked, his gun still pointed at Steele.

“Please…” Steele said, cradling one wounded arm with another and crying.

“It’s important to me you remember,” Hawk said, closing the distance between them. “You killed a good man the last time we met, and I want you to know why you’re going to die.”

The picture Steele had been looking at was now on his desk. It was indeed of Olivia, though in the photo she’d been much younger. A headshot from her early acting days, perhaps. Jealousy beat like a drum in his chest, anxious to control his body and tongue. “I know where your precious Olivia is.”

Any color left in the other man’s face drained at the mention of her name. “You couldn’t possibly,” he whispered.

“But I wouldn’t really call her ‘yours’ anymore.”

Steele’s expression was pained. “If you hurt her, I will murder you!”

Hawk leveled his firearm at Steele’s ear. “You’re not going to get that chance. But I can assure you, I didn’t hurt her. She loved every minute of fucking me.” His finger moved to cinch the trigger.

“Trevor, no!” Olivia’s scream wrenched from deep in her chest, and he turned around to find her and Gallant standing in the open doorway.

Gallant quickly wrapped his arm around Olivia’s neck, holding her against his chest and a gun to her head. “You should listen to the lady,” he said. “Because if you kill Marco, I’ll have to kill her.”

Gallant was a fool. He was so much taller than Olivia, she was no sort of shield. Hawk fired a round directly into Gallant’s head, and the giant fell to the ground, pulling Olivia with him. She screamed hysterically as she freed herself.

“What are you doing?” she yelled.

“This is the man who killed Ralph,” Hawk said. “He stood there and he watched as that useless piece of shit tortured him, then he took a knife and ended his life.”

Her head fell forward and he thought she might pass out, but she raised it again a moment later. “So put him in prison.” She walked toward Hawk with a wobbling gait. “But don’t kill him. I’m begging you.”

“Why?” Hawk asked. “Does he mean that much to you? You can’t stand to see the man you love suffer?”

“No. I want answers. I need to know what happened to Ellie and Frank. I have to get my entire memory back so I can move on with my life. I may not be able to do that if he’s dead.”

“Go on,” Trevor said, sneering.