Amber smiled as she combed her hair. The image in the mirror showed she had that silly small secretive grin of a woman who was having naughty thoughts about her lover. She could hear Lily’s mocking voice now. She hadn’t told her friend about waking up with Hawk’s little piece of body jewelry in her hand when she’d called earlier. Nipple rings weren’t on the Wretched Wench List, she would say.
She knew why he’d left it with her. He wanted her to think about him while he was away. She still didn’t understand why the sight of it on him made her insides clench up. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen body piercings before, but there was just something sexy about Hawk wearing it. It was totally so out of character for a macho guy, but everything about Hawk had been a surprise to her so far.
A very pleasant surprise. The more she got to know him, the more intrigued she became. He wasn’t just a very good-looking man. From their conversations, she’d found out he was also very quick-thinking and intellectual when he wanted to be. He could talk about anything, from opera to politics to philosophy. He’d even read all her favorite books in their original languages. She suspected that it was a side of him that he didn’t show to many people.
Everything was a contradiction. He opened doors for her, was very protective about women. He had all the young girls and even the two housekeepers in the safe houses eating out of his hand by treating them with an unexpected gentle respect that Amber found very charming. She discovered, just by watching him interact with her girls, that he was quite a gentleman to all women, and regardless of age, they all responded with typical feminine flirtatiousness.
Yet she also knew he could take care of a problem with lightning-fast decisiveness. The way he’d saved Lily’s ass when her mercenary was in the line of fire. Tatiana, whom he’d treated with such utmost care that the young girl clung to him like she’d known him all her life. Amber had seen him in action and knew, from his line of work, that he’d taken lives before and that behind that smooth, teasing façade was a very complicated and, at times, ruthless man. There was something very sexy about a quiet, very gentlemanly male who had a very dangerous air about him.
Amber sighed, her smile fading a little. She should be afraid, really. She was in danger of falling for the man. She was too happy when he was around. Too turned on at the sight of him. Thinking of him too much when she was alone. Wanting to do things with him too much. Too everything, in fact. This was probably what was bothering Lily and had sort of bruised their friendship. She hadn’t spent as much time with her friend as she usually did.
Logic told her that this happened in relationships, especially between good friends. A third one who came in always caused some friction because sharing was involved, no matter what the gender. She hoped Lily and Brad had worked out their feelings for each other. Then maybe her friend wouldn’t feel so angry and left out.
She checked the time. It was too early to do anything, but she couldn’t fall back asleep. Hawk hadn’t left any goodnight notes on the instant messenger program, so he must either still be at the kafena or partying with Dilaver somewhere. A shiver of apprehension ran through her. She wondered whether he’d gotten hold of Thomas and helped him secure a private interview. It was a risky thing for Hawk to do, but he’d assured her that he would be fine. Still, she felt uneasy about it. What if the girl reported it to her “Mama”? It wasn’t unusual for the girls to tattletale on each other just so they could gain some favors.
She heard the phone extension ringing when she came out of the bathroom. It couldn’t be Lily....
“Amber? It’s me, Brad.”
“What’s the matter?” She was suddenly wide awake. He would never call her at this hour. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Hawk. I just got a call from Thomas. Something’s happened.”
Hawk struggled as they bound him up with ropes. He’d taken down the first wave of Dilaver’s men coming at him. They’d picked up whatever was close by—bottles, chairs, anything long and deadly—trying to overpower him amid the confused customers. Surrounded, he’d fought back, dodging the weapons hurled and swung at him as he tried to find a way out the front. Then someone fired a shot and bedlam ensued.
Fights broke out among groups of men, some of whom were peacekeepers. Hawk couldn’t really tell; he was too busy avoiding being bashed in the head.
Screaming girls. A popping sound to his left. He’d pushed a young woman out of the way before what felt like five hundred pounds fell on top of him. He fought against the three or four men pounding on him till he couldn’t move anymore.
Someone turned him over. A fist landed a punch on his jaw. Another.
Amber pulled on her shoes, her mind racing a hundred miles an hour. She must keep calm. She’d never felt so afraid for someone in her whole life. She must keep calm. Hawk had been compromised somehow, and not by Thomas, at least not from what Brad told her.
She snatched from the bed the black lycra hood that she used to cover her head and face and stuffed it into the little tool bag attached to her utility belt. Her mind quickly went through the list of things she might have forgotten. There wasn’t any time to double-check.
When he’d called, Brad had been on the way to the department from his house. She could hear his attached emergency siren in the background while he gave her a rundown of the night’s events. Apparently Thomas and his friend were already there when they’d seen Hawk milling around, talking to some people. They’d moved around for an hour or two, secretly photographing the place, taking notes. Hawk had been heading in their direction when someone tapped him on the shoulder and he’d changed course.
From that point on, Thomas wasn’t sure what actually happened. Dilaver had been there. At least, he thought he was, based on the photographs Brad had provided. Hawk was at some big table and then hell broke loose. All of a sudden, a bunch of men started rushing at Hawk with weapons.
“It didn’t seem like they wanted to kill him, if that’s any comfort,” Brad had said.
No, that wasn’t much of a comfort. She glanced at her clock on the way out. Time was of the essence.
Brad was taking his men to the kafena. A raid. That was all he could do. But Thomas had reported that Hawk had been dragged out the back door and taken somewhere. So raiding the brothel wasn’t going to save Hawk.
“Thomas said Hawk fought like no one he’d ever seen. Took down a whole bunch of them with his bare hands. But the girls and customers around impeded his ability to escape or use some other means of saving himself. Where could they have taken him?”
“To Dilaver’s compound just at the edge of town,” Amber had replied grimly. “Can you send a force there?”
“Are you sure? Thomas said they went out the back way. Is there another building behind there that he could use to interrogate Hawk?”
There was, but Amber didn’t think Dilaver would take Hawk there. “It’s possible,” she had said, “but I just have a feeling Dilaver would choose his compound. I could be wrong.”
“I’m going to that building behind the kafena, since it’s in town and closest to us. It’s the most likely place anyway. It’ll look like a standard raid in the reports. If I can’t find him there, I’ll direct a group of my men to the compound, but, Amber, it’s going to take time, with all of Dilaver’s guards. Be patient, okay?”
That was why she was going off to the compound. Dilaver needed time to interrogate Hawk and his heavily guarded place would give him a lot more security. She knew she couldn’t tell Brad what her plans were. Besides, if he went there and engaged Dilaver in a firefight, Hawk might be used as a hostage or, worse, be killed off. She felt sick to her stomach at the thought.
“All right,” she’d lied.
“I’ll call you.”
“Be careful.”
She’d then called Lily, but there was no answer. Left a quick message about her plans. No time to wait for her anyway. She had to save Hawk somehow.
“Stay alive, Hot Stuff,” she muttered, backing the car out of the driveway, tires squealing.
Coming to consciousness after being beaten up was a very nasty experience. Hawk felt like a train had run over him. The back of his head throbbed violently and he swallowed the nausea rising in his throat.
Eyes closed, he assessed his situation. Sitting slumped over in the most uncomfortable way. Hands and feet secured tightly. He heard the familiar rumbling of a car. Okay, they were taking him somewhere. Back to the compound, he guessed.
He’d escaped death many times before, but he was aware that he might not be so lucky this time. He’d been outnumbered back there. The blows to his body and face took their toll after a while, and something had come down hard on his head during the fight.
That was the last thing Hawk remembered. He didn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t worried about a concussion. There were worse things coming up in his immediate future. Right now, lying here inside Dilaver’s vehicle, he could buy a little bit of time by pretending to still be out of it. Not that any good ideas were floating in his addled brain at the moment.
Death. Well, that was one thing he could deal with. The part between now and his demise was what he was worried about. Dilaver would want to extract information from him in the most painful ways available and Hawk didn’t need his imagination. He had seen some of the thug’s methods with his very own eyes.
Hell, the Slav cut off fingers from a whole gang just to make a point. Hawk flexed his own. Fuck. He hoped he wouldn’t die before sticking the middle one in the air at Dilaver. If it was still attached to him by that time.
He wasn’t going to think about death. That felt like giving up already and that wasn’t how he’d been trained. As long as he was breathing, there was always a chance. The sound of his name penetrated the fuzzy haze of his thoughts and he struggled to concentrate on the conversation in the vehicle. To his surprise, it was in English, not Serbian.
“Are you sure, Aunt Greta? He’s been a good friend.”
“Of course I’m sure.” That was the voice belonging to the woman at the table. She sounded very American. “There was a Steve McMillan in the States who came in and out of the office I was in who looked like this man. Unmistakable—tall, dark, good-looking, just like him. Same last name, Dragan. Coincidence?”
“No.”
“That Steve was a plant by a very powerful Navy admiral at the task force I worked in. This Hawk is probably a plant, too.”
“But why me? The Americans and I have a deal!”
“Dragan, you’re an illegal arms dealer. Never forget that you’re both using each other.”
“I don’t need your advice about how to deal with the Americans.”
“Oh, stop acting like the little nephew I haven’t seen for fifteen years. Think about it. I didn’t spend ten years in the States and not understand its system. The CIA has an agenda politically, so it uses you to further it. In the meantime, there are departments inside the CIA as well as other agencies who are being ordered to fight people like you. Do you see the contradiction?”
Hawk heard Dilaver’s snort. “I don’t care about their fucked-up system as long as I get to profit from it.”
“Then you’ll listen to me in this one thing, my dear nephew, if you want a huge sum of money. You owe me.”
“Yes, veza. You got it. You have made me very rich and powerful around here by picking me as the CIA go-to guy, or as Hawk would call me, a gofer.” Dilaver snorted again.
Hawk suddenly understood why Dilaver was always practicing his English and improving his knowledge of American colloquialism. He wanted to speak like a native with his aunt.
“There’s a reason for it. I need to talk to you later about a shipment of weapons we sent your way. I don’t want it for sale, Dragan. It’s a very special weapon I’m looking for.” There was a short pause. “I know that’s probably what your friend Hawk’s after.”
“If you know already, why don’t we just kill him?”
“Because I don’t know what the weapon looks like and exactly which shipment in which it was sent out. Rather than wait for my contact, who’s been missing now that his partner’s in prison, Hawk can provide us with that information. You can have your fun with him, but you make sure in the end he can at least draw a picture of the weapon.”
“With pleasure.”
Hawk flexed his fingers again. Well, on the bright side, he would be able to flip that middle finger before he died.
Her car hidden in an alley, Amber checked inventory in the dark. She usually was light on weapons, but this time would be different. Silencer. Semiauto. She would sneak into Dilaver’s compound, but she doubted that she would be sneaking out. Wrapped-up small Uzi. Hell, maybe another one, just in case Hawk was able to defend himself.... She threw it into her duffel bag. Smoke bomb. Goggles. High-tech infrared glasses. Rope. She checked the back of her utility belt. Knives. She prayed that Hawk was still able to run...not quite sure how she was going to get him out if he was unconscious.
The main thing was to get inside the place, locate Hawk and assess what was happening, then make some really quick decisions. If he was injured, she couldn’t mount a direct attack. If he was dead, she was going to...she mentally shook herself. Hawk wasn’t dead. Not yet. They would have killed him at the brothel if they wanted him dead.
She loaded one of the weapons, pulled the car trunk down without slamming it, and slung the duffel bag over her shoulder. She started running up the alley. Off to get her man.
A few items on Hawk’s new list of things he didn’t like being done to him. Number one, he didn’t like having his head slammed on a hard surface while his hands were tied. Number two, he definitely didn’t enjoy having his ribs kicked in when his legs were tied and he couldn’t retaliate by kicking back. Number three, spitting out blood wasn’t a good sign to state of health.
The list got too long after five minutes. And he knew that more was to come. They hadn’t even mentioned what they wanted from him yet. Dragan hadn’t even lifted a hand yet. That wasn’t a good sign either.
Thank God she’d cased the compound a few times before. First thing was to make sure she would be able to kill the lights if needed. That might help make escape a lot easier, especially if her appearance was a surprise. She prayed for enough time to get to Hawk and that she remembered how to rig small explosives.
When she got in through Hawk’s room, there was such a loud commotion she didn’t even have to be really quiet. From her vantage point, she could see them tearing his room apart, looking for something. She caught sight of someone walking off with a laptop. That must be Hawk’s. Another man was slicing open the mattress with a knife. Another was throwing stuff out of the little wardrobe in the corner. She had to follow the first man who went out. He would be the best bet to get to Hawk’s current location in this big place. She pulled out her silencer.
“What are all the favorite American sayings in this type of situation?” Dilaver asked, a careless casualness in his voice as he approached Hawk. “You disappoint me. This is going to hurt me more than it does you. You make your bed, now lie in it. I think I like that last one the best. What do you think, Hawk?”
Hawk struggled to sit up. Either he was or the chair was propping him up, he couldn’t really tell at this moment. He peered up, blinking at the brightness of the light overhead.
“Nothing to say, huh?” Dilaver continued. “Where are all the smart-aleck sayings, my friend? That’s what hurts most, you know. I thought we were friends. I liked you. Part of me actually admires you now because your deception was so good and I don’t get deceived that easily, let me tell you. I repeat, where are all the smart-ass lines now?”
Conserve energy. Why waste the rest of his ability to think on that fucking scum? Hawk watched as Dilaver lay his walking stick on the table a few feet away.
“Do you know, if you get hit around the right spot on the kneecap, it would shatter in such a way that you would never walk again? I think that would be good payment for my limp, which I’m sure you’re responsible for somehow. An eye for an eye, right? Or is it a leg for a leg this time around? Let’s start with that.... Oh wait, if you tell me what you know about a certain weapon, perhaps I won’t go for that sweet spot in the kneecap, what do you say? Maybe we could just break the shinbone.”
If he could, Hawk would laugh. Dilaver was a mercenary, a brute. He’d seen the thug kill with his bare hands, strike fear in those around him by giving a lot of pain. But he wasn’t going to win the Negotiator of the Year Award anytime soon with his refined threats to win information.
There was no humor in the knowledge that his career as a SEAL would definitely be over, even if he survived this. Swimming without a kneecap would really slow him down and underwater covert operations were all about timing, especially when they included underwater demolition.
Hawk laughed, or at least a sound choked out of his mouth. It must be his macabre sense of humor surfacing, if all he could think about were ways to retain swimming speed when he was about to lose the use of his legs. He laughed again and a wracking pain followed the attempt.
Two down. Luck was on her side. The man with the laptop was going downstairs alone. Amber promised that she would appreciate old European buildings even more from now on. They were badly lit, easily allowing her to tail her quarry down three flights of stairs and giving her time to plant weapons along the way.
He turned on the landing, heading for the rooms. She looked up and down the passage as she cautiously followed. No guards. Dilaver must have left some of the men at the kafenas. Either that or Hawk had hurt enough of them to send them to the hospital. She hoped so.
The man slowed down as he reached the end of the passage. He knocked at the door. Amber pulled on the gas mask, then raised both her hands, taking aim.
“Untie his hands,” Dilaver ordered. “Perhaps writing is easier right now, hmm? If you cooperate and draw this weapon you’re after, Hawk, I’ll make the end a little quicker.”
Hawk took several deep breaths as the wave of pain subsided. Dilaver must have thought he’d been trying to reply. Someone came up behind him and he felt the bonds that imprisoned his hands loosening. The same person pushed him hard and he fell out of the chair onto his knees. He heard laughter around him.
“He doesn’t act so cool now, boss.”
“He’s still cute, though.”
Someone kicked Hawk’s ribs. He doubled over.
“Let’s fuck him in the ass. Always thought he was a homo, the way he stayed away from the girls.”
“I say he’s still too pretty. We’ll have to remedy that.”
“Now, now, men, didn’t you hear me tell Hawk that I’ll make it quick if he helped me out?” Dilaver asked. “Come on, Hawk. They’re getting restless here. Better get up and do some drawing.”
Hawk pushed up with one hand, trying to sit up. If he could get the other man to kick him again, he could go for the weapon strapped at the man’s side. It was time to end this bullshit. If he had to go, he preferred it to be in a blaze of bullets. At least he would be sending a few more of them straight to hell. A knock at the door and Dilaver turned to answer. Hawk stared up at his attacker, Sanu, and gave him the finger.
Everything seemed to happen all at once. Sanu came after him amid the jeers of those watching. Hawk somehow managed to dodge the kick aimed at him. He grabbed the off-balance man by the balls. At the same time, he registered a shout of surprise and gunshots coming from somewhere as he pulled the weapon from the howling man’s holster. He pulled Sanu forward, using him as a shield. Someone shot out the main light.
Smoke. Son of a bitch. Hawk recognized the instant and distinct burn of CS gas. During boot camp and SEAL training, they were required to sit in a room as it filled up with tear gas and count to twenty slowly before they were allowed to strap on the gas masks by their sides. It was to help them to stay calm. Many first-timers gagged and panicked at the first fiery taste of the gas, forgetting to put on their masks as they rushed for the exits with closed eyes. One never forgot the first inhalation of gas, nor the puking that entailed. It’d taken Hawk two tries before he was able to sit calmly and count.
More shots. Total darkness. Everyone was yelling and scrambling, screaming for the exit as they started gagging. Hawk stretched out on the ground and began to crawl toward the general direction of the door. Someone at the entrance was picking off the running men one by one. Whoever it was must have a mask on. He had an idea who that might be. His eyes were hurting more and more as the gas started to waft downward. He squeezed them shut. Holding his breath, he continued his painful belly-crawl.
He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to be trampled before reaching the doorway.
Suddenly the glare from a flashlight hit his eyes, blinding him even more. Something slid onto his nose. Then a familiar weight came over his face. Gas mask. He reached up to hold it in place. Forcing his eyes open, he found everything had changed from darkness to another familiar sight. He’d been fitted with infrared night goggles, too. Not that he could see much when his eyes felt as if they had been scratched raw.
But he didn’t need any urging. A familiar shadow stood over him. Leaned down. Hands urging him to get up. Unable to explain that he was still tied, he started to paddle hard with his arms toward the door. His rescuer pulled him by his shirt, hurrying him. He heard it tear as he tried to keep up.
At last he was out of that room and the passage light was still on. He heard the slam of the door behind him. Then his legs were freed. Knives were wonderful things.
He heaved himself up with the help of the wall. He staggered from the pain. He waved away the helping hand and started to run. He smacked into a wall. Still stinging from the gas assault, he couldn’t see very well. Besides, he wasn’t the one leading here. For once he had to depend on someone other than his SEAL brothers to take over. He turned to the small figure beside him. She took his hand.