Shadow Hawk (9 page)

There was going to be an “and then.” His head swam for a moment, probably from sheer exhaustion. That, and an odd need to ask her to repeat the “we.”

There hadn't been many “we's” in his life. Not once a woman realized his long hours and dangerous work would keep him just a little too gone, and way too distant. Few had hung in there, seeing past the job to the man beneath.

“Right. We'll stick to the plan.” Well, mostly. Except for the part where she was with him when he flushed out Gaines.

“And if the numbers don't match…?” she pressed.

It was a good question. A fair question. “The numbers will match.”

“Right. And you know this because your instincts tell you so.” Abby laughed, completely mirthlessly, and covered her eyes, leaning her head back against the headrest.

“You never explained. What's your attachment to Gaines, anyway?”

She shot him a look that said
none of your business
. Well that, and
go to hell
. Preferably yesterday.

“Look,” he told her. “I can promise you, I am not the bad guy here.” Hawk felt that bore repeating. Over and over. But when he took in her ashen face and the bruises forming around her wrist, he grimaced. “Okay, I didn't
mean
to be the bad guy.”

She turned away and made him feel like shit. “Abby, please. Look at me.”

After a hesitation, she leveled him with those wide baby blues.

“I woke up this morning and I
was
the good guy. I was on the verge of bringing down the Kiddie Bombers. Then I went to the raid and ended up fighting off our boss.”

“It's just all so hard to swallow—”

He thrust her cell at her. “Call him. I guarantee you, you're never going to hear from him again.”

Taking the phone, she flipped it open and stared down at the keypad. “What am I supposed to say? Excuse me, but are you the bad guy? Because Hawk says you are.”

“And because you know it, too.”

Her eyes met his for one long beat.

“Call,” he whispered.

She hit a number and he realized she had Elliot on her speed dial, which gave him a ridiculous twist in the gut as the green-eyed monster took over for a moment.

“Elliot,” she said softly, her gaze locked on Hawk's. “Can you call me?” Slowly Abby shut the phone, staring down at it as if she expected it to vibrate any second.

“So,” he said, much lighter than he felt. “How long ago did the two of you…?” He waggled an eyebrow.

She sighed. “I'm not doing the boss, Hawk.”

“You've dated.”

“A few times,” she agreed. “A very long time ago. A lifetime ago.” She gazed out the window into the dark night, looking so sad it made him hurt.

“Look, obviously I'm missing a big piece of this puzzle. If we're going to figure this all out, I should know everything.” Bullshit. He wanted to know for other reasons. Personal reasons. “Talk to me, Ab.”

Letting out an uneven breath, she dipped her head down so that she was staring at her lap. “We need to sleep.”

“Soon. Talk to me.”

“Do you remember the Seattle raid last year that went bad?”

He remembered because it was the first time in several years that an agent had been injured on the job. A female agent, if he remembered correctly, who'd been caught and held captive, tortured for information—

Ah, Christ. “No—”

“It was me.” She slanted him a quick glance to make sure she had his attention. As if he could do anything but look at her, sick to his very soul. “Gaines rescued me.”

Stunned, he just sat there. She was telling the truth, at least as she knew it. No one could fake that look on her face, or the tinge of hero worship that the rescue had no doubt created.
Shit
, he thought, realizing how much he was asking of her to believe Gaines had done all he'd done.

“I didn't know,” he said very quietly, staring at the raw skin on her wrist. In all likelihood it was nothing compared to what she'd suffered last year.

“Afterward, I took some time off,” she whispered. “Gaines encouraged that. And then when I was ready to get back to work, he put me here because I could be in communications, out of the action.”

“I'm surprised you came back to work at all.”

“I know. Me, too. But I didn't want to let them take this from me. I had to prove something to myself.”

And he'd put her right back into the nightmare. Knowing it, he hated himself. “Abby—”

“Funny thing is, I felt safe, too.” She closed her eyes. “Until I left the van.”

He wanted to kick his own ass. “Abby, God. I'm so sorry—”

“Don't.” She shook her head, still very carefully not looking at him. “Don't be sorry. I'm fine.”

She didn't want his pity. He wouldn't have wanted any either. But that didn't change the basic facts. She'd overcome one nightmare, and now was living a new one.

“I need to talk to Logan,” he said. “And to Watkins and Thomas. To see exactly what we're up against.”

She said nothing but fed him a long stare.
Right
. She didn't do “we,” she didn't do trust either, at least not for him. “We're in this now, for better or worse.”

“Through sickness and health?” Her eyes flashed in brief good humor. “Just don't even think about asking me to obey. Or to sleep in this truck with you.”

If nothing else, he had to admire her sheer will and the inner strength he'd only suspected existed before. He couldn't imagine all she'd gone through—or maybe the problem was he
could
, in great detail, and it made him want to personally hunt down each and every single one of her demons and kill them for her. “No, we're not going to sleep in the truck. I have a friend with a B&B. We can grab some shut-eye there, and get to your place in the morning, okay?”

Abby stared at him so long he figured the gig was up, she was done with him. But finally she nodded. She wasn't over her mistrust of him, not yet, but neither was she still fighting him. And after the night he'd had, he felt grateful for the small favor. But first…

Hawk gestured to the nearest grove of trees with his hand. “Would you like me to escort you to the facilities?”

Outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming

A
BBY JERKED AWAKE
. Sitting straight up, heart in her throat, she nearly leaped right out of her skin when Hawk set a hand on her arm.

“Easy,” he said softly. “Just me.”

She'd been deeply asleep, dreamless, which was a miracle in its own right, but that she'd actually for a moment forgotten where she was and who she was with and what they were doing…

The truck was parked and turned off. That's probably what had woken her. It was still dark but with the very hint of a lightening of the sky in the far east. Almost dawn. She probably looked like a disaster.

Hawk stroked a finger over her temple, pushing a strand of hair off her face. “You all the way awake?” he asked.

“Yeah.” The dash clash read 5:05 a.m. “What I can't believe is that I slept.” She pulled free of his touch and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Given our situation.”

“Remember, we're the good guys. We've done nothing wrong.”

“Except flee the crime scene.”

“The crime scene in which we were the victims.”

“It's still not okay that we just left—”

“It was that or die,” he said flatly, and she took a good long look at him. His eyes were shadowed and so was his jaw. There was a weariness to the way he sat in the driver's seat that told her he was still hurting, still exhausted, and on the very edge.

“We're only forty-five minutes out of Cheyenne.” He jutted his chin toward the outside of the truck, for the first time drawing her gaze to where he'd stopped.

They were on a long, wide street lined by huge oak trees, wooden sidewalks and old-fashioned cabin-style houses all clean and neat and exuding charm and personality. It looked like the wild, wild West all cleaned up. “Where are we?”

“B&B row, Old West style. They've done up this town like it was back then—for the tourists. I need to get a few hours sleep, Abby, or I'm going to do something stupid.”

She slid him a long look. “Like?”

“Like…” He slid his thumb over her jaw, his gaze filled with things that made her swallow hard.

And there were other reactions as well, reactions that reminded her that he was a man, an exceedingly sensual, sexy, hot man, and that she was all woman.

Yowza
. She'd nearly forgotten what lust felt like. “If we could just get to my computer—”

Hawk was shaking his head before she even finished her sentence.

“If you're too tired to keep driving,” she said. “I'll do it.”

“I don't think so.”

Disbelief filled her. “Let me get this straight. I'm supposed to trust you, but you don't have to trust me?” She couldn't help but sound a little bitter at this one. “That's ridiculous! I'm the innocent one here. I'm the one to be trusted!”

“Because you promised to make this as difficult and painful as possible, remember?”

Okay, he had her there.

“And you haven't yet decided to finally trust me.”

And there.

“What do you think I'm going to do, anyway?” she asked.

He laughed and rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Oh, I don't know. Turn me in to Tibbs before I can prove my innocence.” He shrugged out of his flak vest and outer shirt, leaving him in just the black T-shirt. “I'm sorry, but I'm not going to go to sleep only to wake up to you driving me directly to the ATF. I left my Get Out of Jail Free card at home.”

“If we just went to Regional and laid out all the events in the order that they happened, I'm sure—”

“Sure what? That I'll get a fair trial before death row?”

“If you're innocent—”

“If? Jesus, Abby.” Sending her a stare that was filled with just enough hurt to stab right at her heart, he got out of the truck and slammed the door.

Abby shook her head at herself. Truth was, she believed him. Or she wanted to. How terrifying was that? With a sigh, she followed, the pre-dawn air slapping her face, stinging her skin. “Hawk, wait.”

He tipped his head up at the still-dark sky, then turned to look at her, his expression pure resistance, frustration—and also reluctant affection.

God
.

It was that, that got her. Because a murderer would not be looking at her as if he couldn't decide between kissing her and wrapping his fingers around her neck, would he?

“I didn't mean…” She trailed off, and he looked as if he was resisting the urge to thunk his head on the trunk of the truck.

Straightening, he drew in a deep breath and lifted his hands, stabbing them into his hair. The muscles in his shoulders and arms were tense, straining the sleeves of his T-shirt.

She'd experienced his strength firsthand last night and did not want to go another round with him.

Which did not in any way explain the little quiver that occurred low in her belly.

“I called about Logan while you were asleep,” he said. “He's still in intensive care.” Hawk shook his head. “He didn't fall from that roof. No way in hell.” He dropped his arms to his side and let her see everything he was feeling, which was more of that rage, frustration, exhaustion and also an underlying need for her to believe in him. “He didn't call you back.”

Yeah
. She'd noticed. If Gaines was on the up and up, and alive, he'd have called her back. Unless, of course, he really was dead. “Maybe the fire did get him—”

“It didn't.”

“How do you know he didn't die from his gunshot?”

“It was a flesh wound. Nothing more. And now he has the ultimate freedom.”

Abby shut her door and came around to the front of the truck to face him. “You're certain he's not dead.”

Fingers still shoved in his hair, he closed his eyes and drew a breath. “I'd stake my life on it.”

His body was taut as an arrow. She came up only to his shoulders, and she knew damn well he could have used physical force to coerce her to do whatever he wanted, but other than when she'd lost it completely last night, he hadn't. In fact, he'd done everything within his power not to hurt her, even when she'd hurt him.

Then he opened his eyes and let her look at him, into him, hiding nothing at all. She peered into his face for a long beat and he stared straight back at her, as if he was hoping to hell she was finding the honesty she sought because he couldn't possibly lay himself more bare.

“The Gaines I know loves justice,” she finally said.

“No, he loves to win.”

Yes, that was true, too. He'd taken great pride in all the cases he'd closed, and that was no secret.

“I realize you have a bond with him.” Hawk said this just a little too tightly, as if maybe he hated thinking about it.

“He saved me,” she reminded him.

He shocked her by reaching for her hand. “I know.”

She stared down at their joined fingers. “Hawk?”

“Yeah?”

“Just before I was taken, I'd been working on the Kiddie Bombers.”

“Yeah? There were a lot of agents across the whole western region doing so.”

“I felt like I was really making a breakthrough.” Her voice trailed off and they stared at each other. “This is insane,” she whispered. “You know that.”

“Insane, but real.”

“He saved me from the very men that you'd like to prove work for him. My God. He did this, he set all this up.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Yeah. I think so. Abby, I'm sorry, but I will prove it.”

Her gaze searched his. “He knew who had me. He let them have me.” Images bombarded her, the terror, the overwhelming certainty that she was dead. And then being all too alive—“He ordered me held captive,” she repeated in disbelief.

“God, Abby.” His low, husky voice brought her back. “I don't want to dredge it up for you, I just—”

“You just want me to know that the reason I made it out of there alive is the only reason that I was there in the first place.” Sickened, she closed her eyes.

“I think he wanted to make himself the good guy. Your good guy.”

The men who'd taken her had been well-versed in how to get the answers they wanted. And what they'd wanted from her was any concrete knowledge she had on the Kiddie Bombers, which hadn't been all that much. But she'd been chained up, then left alone in the pitch-black for four long hours before they'd come for her, knowing by then she'd be half out of her mind. And she had been.

They'd just begun to really have fun with her while she'd been trying desperately to pretend she was somewhere, anywhere, else, when Gaines had come in, gun drawn, taking two of her assailants out without blinking.

The other two had run like scared little bunnies while Gaines had freed her and carried her out.

She'd never questioned how he'd known, how he'd killed only two of the four and yet been able to get her out of there without either of them being killed.

It had never occurred to her to be anything but grateful.
Extremely
grateful.

“Abby.”

She opened her eyes.

Hawk had stepped close. “I hate bringing you back there.” He slid his hands in her hair. “I hate myself for making you think about it at all. But my life depends on it.

“I can't think this way,” she whispered. “I'll fall apart.”

“Then
I'll
think that way. All I'm asking you to do is give me a chance. Don't send me to the gallows yet.”

“So what now? Do you think we're going to go in there and I'm going to sleep with you?”

“No, I think
I'm
going to sleep, and you're possibly going to stab me in my sleep. Which is slightly preferable to going to jail.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

“Okay, what? You're going to stab me in my sleep?”

“I guess you'll have to take your chances on that, won't you.” She turned and headed up the front walk to the door. Her clothes felt damp and icy, though she knew that was more from shock than anything else because Hawk had been running the heater in the truck for hours.

But she felt as if she'd never get warm again.

He caught up with her with his long-legged stride, and reached out and took her hand in a sweet gesture.

Or maybe to keep her from running. Although where he thought she was going to run off to, she had no idea.

Opening the rough wooden gate, he let her in. There were several low lights lining the walk, illuminating an antique-covered wagon in the front yard and the house, complete with old-style shutters and white lace curtains hanging in the windows. The yard itself was thick with growth. She took her first deep breath in hours, and smelled fresh-cut grass and the scent of myriad different blooms.

Behind her, the gate clicked closed and she knew Hawk was right on her heels. Watching her closely. Was he looking at her wild hair? Her grubby clothes? She glanced back—

Um. Yes.
He was noticing all the above, and more. When his gaze lifted and met hers, he didn't try to be coy or reserved, or anything other than who he was, and he had no problem letting her see him.

All of him.

Everything he felt, which pretty much ran the gamut. Oh, God. She'd never been so aware of another human being in all her life, standing so close she could feel his soft exhale on her temple, could see deep into his warm eyes. He was just so…overwhelmingly male. Did he know the confusion he aroused? Or that when he stared at her like that she had certain reactions she couldn't seem to help? She crossed her arms over her chest, because, seriously, she had a problem. How could her body react in this manner, when with the other side of her brain she was recoiling in horror at the evening's events? “This is crazy,” she whispered. “I don't want to look at you and—”

“And what?”

“Hawk.”

“And what, Ab? Want me?”

“I don't…want you.” Trying to be casual, she dropped her arms to her side.

His gaze fell to the front of her shirt, which revealed her traitorous nipples, hard and pressing against the fabric of her shirt. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks. He should have at least pretended not to notice.

Instead his eyes blazed with a new awareness, and a staggering heat that almost equalled the explosions they'd faced earlier.

Oh, God. Was this really happening?

“Abby—”

But whatever he'd planned on saying was lost as the front door opened. There in the doorway stood a stunningly beautiful brunette in a cream silk bathrobe that hugged her spectacular curves. Her smile came slow and sure as she took in the sight of Hawk on her doorstep. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”