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Hawk moved through the trees swiftly and silently, the shotgun in his hands. His heart beat steadily, settling into a rhythm as he moved to intercept Trent. Angela was worried about what Alina would do if he got hurt. Hawk’s lips tightened and he glanced up into the trees. He was more worried about what she would do if Trent used the gun he was carrying on her bird. He had to get to him before Raven realized he was back.
The light was fading and the shadows were deepening quickly as he moved through the underbrush, making no sound. He paused, listening, and went forward again. A moment later, he heard a branch pop about twenty yards to his left. Hawk moved and caught sight of Trent a moment later, picking his way slowly through the trees, coming towards him.
Hawk stood silently behind a tree, waiting as the man walked a few feet past him. He moved then, silently approaching him from behind. A loud screech rent the air and Hawk stifled a sigh. Raven was here.
Trent raised his arm, his gun aimed directly at the black mass diving out of the trees.
Hawk moved like lightening to close the distance between them, one eye on the descending hawk and one eye on Trent. He brought his right forearm down hard on Trent’s arm, forcing it aside just as Trent pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed deafeningly through the trees and Raven shrieked. Trent swung around and Hawk’s hand clamped around his throat. He glanced up in time to see Raven disappear into a tree and he turned his cold, blue eyes back to Trent.
“You’re lucky you missed the bird,” he growled.
Trent snarled and tried to raise his gun as Hawk slammed the butt of the shotgun into his wrist. The gun went flying into the underbrush as the joint audibly cracked. A second later, Hawk’s right fist landed solidly in his gut. He grunted and doubled over, the wind knocked out of him with the force of the blow. As he did, Hawk sliced his hand into the side of his neck. Trent let out a strangled cry of pain and Hawk brought his elbow down on his temple swiftly.
Trent fell forward to the ground, unconscious.
Hawk bent over him and pulled the high turtleneck away from his neck. His lips thinned grimly when he saw the thick gauze bandage taped to the side of his neck. Releasing the sweater, he straightened up and stared down at the unconscious man at his feet.
Trent Whitfield had certainly seen better days. He looked like the walking wounded. Aside from the bandage on his neck, he had staples in his head and bandages covered his forearm. Now, thanks to Hawk, he also had a broken wrist, and would have a concussion if he ever came to.
Damon leaned the shotgun against a nearby tree and sighed. He had to move him and, by the looks of it, Trent was no light-weight. The branches in the trees above rustled suddenly and Raven glided by to perch on the lower branches of a pine tree. His shiny black eyes looked at Damon and he bobbed his head.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “I did it for her, not you.”
Raven shook out his feathers and stared at him, undisturbed. Damon shook his head and bent down to hoist Trent’s inanimate form over his shoulder. Pain ripped through his side and shot up his ribcage. Hawk grimaced, dropping Trent with a low curse. Clearly, he wasn’t moving him anywhere. He wasn’t healed enough to lug two-hundred plus in dead weight anywhere without causing more damage than it was worth.
Damon glared at the unconscious man, frustrated by his inability to clean up his own mess. Finally, he bent down and undid the belt around Trent’s waist, pulling it off and testing it. It was a good, strong, leather belt. He glanced at the shoes on Trent’s feet and nodded when he saw the laces. He’d worked with less. It only had to hold until Viper returned.
Five minutes later, Trent was tied upright to a slim but sturdy tree. The leather belt was secured around his middle, while his hands were tied to the tree above his head with one of the shoe laces. The other shoe lace secured his feet to the base of the tree trunk. Damon stepped back, breathing heavily, to survey his handiwork. He didn’t have a gag, but he supposed it wouldn’t matter. If Trent woke up before Viper got back, the odds were low on anyone hearing him. The road was over a quarter mile away, and the nearest house was Viper’s.
Hawk turned to leave, grabbing the shotgun as he passed it. He strode over to the underbrush where Trent’s pistol landed, bending to pick that up as well. As he walked away, Hawk glanced back to see Raven still sitting on the low branch, his black eyes on the unconscious Trent.
Damon grinned.
God help him if he woke up and tried to move while Raven was there.
Alina pulled the Shelby around the house, the tires crunching on gravel, and the engine growling low. She pulled up beside the detached garage and cut the engine, getting out of the low car as a loud rumble preceded Michael’s F150. It pulled around the house and Alina watched as he pulled the truck up next to her Mustang. Walking around the back of the black pickup, she waited for him to get out of the cab.
“You’re just getting back?” she asked as he climbed out.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling his laptop from behind the driver’s seat and slamming the door. “It was a long day. How about you?”
“No one got shot, so I guess that’s a good day,” she replied, turning to walk across the grass with him. “Everything ok in DC?”
Michael glanced down at her.
“Yes, for now,” he said. “Damon told you what it was all about?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then you know it’s no coincidence Trent came after Angela,” Michael said in a low voice as they mounted the steps to the deck.
Alina’s face hardened.
“Oh, I know.”
Before Michael could say anything, the sliding door slid open and Angela flew out.
“Thank God you’re both here!” she exclaimed. “He came back! Trent came back!”
Alina and Michael stared at her.
“What?!”
“Where is he?”
They spoke in unison and Angela looked from one to the other.
“It’s all over now, but I was terrified,” she admitted, leading them into the house. “Damon made me stay inside and told me to stay in the hallway, away from the windows.”
Damon looked up from where he was stretched out on the couch.
“It was the safest place,” he said, sitting up. “He was never going to get this far, but better safe than dead.”
Alina watched as he stood up slowly, almost painfully, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Her gaze dropped to his side and she strode forward, rounding the end of the sofa. Reaching out, she lifted up his tee-shirt before he could stop her and an ice pack fell to the floor at their feet. Her eyes raised to meet his.
“What the hell did you do?” she demanded.
“Nothing a little ice won’t fix,” he retorted, starting to bend down for the ice pack.
She beat him to it, swiping it up and pushing him back down on the couch.
“Sit,” she commanded, handing him the ice.
“What’s wrong?” Angela asked, staring at them. “Why are you so worried about a little bruise?”
Alina glanced at her.
“It’s not a little bruise,” she replied, turning to cross over to the bar. “He just had surgery and he has a cracked rib.”
Alina dropped her keys onto the bar and rounded the island to go to the fridge.
“What!?” Angela swung around to glare at Damon. “I didn’t know! I wouldn’t have let you go out there if I knew that!”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t know.”
Michael grinned at the look on her face and went over to sit in the recliner.
“I don’t think that’s what she wanted to hear,” he said.
“Did you know?” Angela demanded, turning her attention on him.
“Yes.”
She threw her hands up in the air and made a noise suspiciously like a hiss.
“Why am I always the last one to know everything?!” she cried. “And why did you go after Trent if you knew you were hurt?”
Her fiery gaze went back to Damon and he shrugged.
“I’m fine,” he said. “He needed to be handled.”
“And?” Michael prompted before Angela could respond. “What happened?”
“He was handled.”
“Where is he?” Alina asked again, joining them all in the living room and handing Damon a bottle of water and two liquid gel capsules. “Don’t argue, just take it.”
He grinned and took the Advil, tossing them back with the water, his blue eyes never leaving her face. Alina wasn’t sure how she felt about the look in those eyes.
“He’s tied up in the woods,” he said after he swallowed. “I’ll need you to give me a hand.”
“You tried to carry a dead weight?!” she exclaimed. “No wonder you need an ice pack, you idiot!”
“He’s dead?!” Angela shrieked. “What do you mean he’s dead?!”
Michael choked back a laugh as Alina and Damon stared at Angela.
“No one said he was dead,” Damon finally said with a frown. “What are you talking about?”
“Why would he tie up a dead man?” Alina added, her brows furrowed. “That’s a waste of time.”
“But you just said–”
“Dead weight, not dead body!” said Alina as she realized the confusion. “As in, unconscious, dead weight.”
“Oh.”
“Do we plan on leaving him out there indefinitely?” Michael asked from the recliner, his feet up. “How long has he been there?”
Damon shrugged and glanced at Angela.
“I don’t know, maybe an hour? What do you think?”
“More like forty minutes,” she said thoughtfully, looking at her watch.
“Then I doubt he’s still out,” Alina said. “What are you planning on doing with him?”
“He’s going to turn him over to the police,” Angela said before Damon could open his mouth.
Alina’s eyebrow soared into her forehead and she looked at Damon, clearly amused.
“Is that so?” she asked.
“That is not what I said.”
Angela looked at him with wide eyes.
“Yes it is!” she argued. “You said justice would take care of him. When I asked what that meant, you said the proper authority would handle it.”
Michael started coughing in his recliner, his shoulders shaking and a hand covering the bottom half of his face. Alina felt a grin pulling at her lips and sternly repressed it.
“I’ll go make sure he’s ready for delivery,” she said, her eyes dancing.
Damon began to stand and the laugh left her eyes. She shook her head and held him down with a hand on his shoulder.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said. “I go. You stay.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he objected. “I know where I left him.”
“Then you can tell me.”
Michael sighed and lowered his feet, standing.
“This is where I think I step in,” he announced. “As the ranking Federal agent present, I’ll take care of him.”
Damon and Alina looked at him.
“Your rank means exactly nothing to me,” she said bluntly. “Trent’s mine.”
Michael’s green eyes met hers squarely and his jaw hardened.
“We’ll discuss this outside,” he said shortly. “He’s probably awake and could be gone, for all we know. We need to get moving.”
“He might be awake, but I can guarantee he’s not gone,” Damon said, a grin on his lips.
Alina saw it and crooked an eyebrow curiously.
“Only one way to make sure,” Michael said, turning toward the door. “Where is he?”
Damon was silent for a moment, then sighed.
“Head southeast,” he told them. “He’s tied to a tree about halfway to the road.”
Alina nodded and followed Michael to the back door.
“Angie, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, like let a couple terrorists out of Gitmo, until I get back,” she said over her shoulder, drawing a laugh from Damon.
She stepped onto the deck and closed the door behind herself.
“Why would he let terrorists out of Gitmo?” Michael asked, his eyebrows raised.
Alina smiled faintly.
“Why not? What’s a couple more? We’re already in for a penny, might as well go in for a pound.”
Michael glanced at her and they descended the steps, starting across the grass toward the trees.
“How is he?” he asked seriously. “That’s the first I’ve seen him acknowledge the injury.”
“He’s healing,” she said shortly. “He’ll be fine.”
“You’re worried about him,” said Michael. “Why? I’m sure he’s had worse.”
Alina glanced at him.
“I know he has but I need him to be as close to one-hundred percent as he can be. Anything less will get us both killed.”
“You’re not talking about the shooter from the church.”
“No.”
Alina pulled a long, thin Maglite out of her jacket pocket and switched it on as they stepped into the dark trees.
“What can I do?”
“You’ve already done it. You found the connection between Dominic and Trasker. The rest is on us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, following her as she weaved through the pines. “Let me help. I’m a trained weapon at your disposal. Use it.”
“Don’t be so quick to jump in the fight, gunny. There’s no guarantee you’ll make it out again.”
“There’s no guarantee I’ll make it through tomorrow either, but I’ll still get out of bed.”
Silence greeted that and Michael dropped it with a sigh. They moved through the woods quickly, and a few minutes later the light fell across a figure tied to a slender tree trunk.
Trent appeared to still be unconscious, his head slumped forward. Alina frowned, moving forward. She played the light over his body. He was still tied securely and she bent to look at his face.
“He’s still out?” Michael asked incredulously. “What the hell did he do to him?”
Alina looked up from beside him.
“I don’t think this was him,” she said dryly.
She stood up and shone the Maglite around the trees until she lit on a large, black hawk, settled in a tree not far away.
“What...again?!”
“Appears so.” A thread of amusement was in Alina’s voice as she lowered the flashlight back to Trent. “It’s not deep, but it’s right on his temple. It would have been enough to put him under again.”
“He’s lucky he’s still got his eyes,” he muttered, joining her next to Trent.
They both looked down at the unconscious man.
“I can’t let you take him,” Michael finally said. “I need to get answers out of him.”
Alina glanced at him.
“And you don’t think I can get information out of him?” she asked, amused again. “Gunny, have you met me?”
“So far, all we have on him is an attack on Angela and possible tampering with production at Trasker. That hardly falls within your jurisdiction.”
“I don’t have a jurisdiction. I’m not bound by red tape.”
“No, you’re bound by international law,” he shot back, “and you’re stateside.”
Alina pursed her lips.
“Actually, we have something else on him,” she admitted after a minute. “Stephanie called me in the car. It looks like he’ll soon be the prime suspect in four unsolved murders in Miami.”
Michael stared at her.
“What?”
“Four women, all from buildings he lived in, disappeared. Their bodies were later recovered. The police have had no leads, until now.”
“And Stephanie thinks it was him?”
“Not just Stephanie, but another agent down there.”
Michael ran a hand over his short hair.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed. “How do you guys manage to attract these people? For God’s sake!”
“It wasn’t me this time,” she protested with a laugh. “It was Angie!”
“Even worse!” He looked down at Trent. “You’re definitely not getting him now. This is an FBI issue. I’ll take him, question him, then hand him over.”
“And he’ll be out and free in twenty-four hours.”
“Maybe so, but he’ll be alive to stand trial,” Michael retorted.
“True enough,” she conceded sheepishly. “I can’t make that guarantee if I interrogate him.”
“I know.”
Alina looked down at Trent thoughtfully.
“I’ll let you take him on one condition,” she said slowly.
“I wasn’t asking your permission,” said Michael wryly, “but what’s your condition?”
“Find out how the hell he knew to target Angie.”