Eric “Hawk” Standing glared at his phone and wondered if he should throw it across the room or ignore it. The former option might give him a momentary sigh of relief, but then he’d have to buy a new one. The latter choice … Well, it just wasn’t possible.

That leaves me with Plan C, he thought to himself.

“Hello?”

God, answering his phone any way other than “Hawk, here” still made his throat dry and his chest ache. He knew being a SEAL wasn’t something he could do for the rest of his life and figured he’d retire as an instructor long before his military career ended. The Medical Review Board thought he was weak, that the disease in his head stopped him from being a productive SEAL. Oh yeah, they dressed it up in pretty language and care for his well-being, but in the end, he wasn’t equipped to participate in battle anymore.

And what was a warrior with no war to fight?

“Is this Hawk?”

Hawk tensed at his call sign and looked at the phone screen, not recognizing the number.

“Who is this?”

A wry chuckle filled the line. “Still cautious, that’s good. My name is Hank Patterson, but they used to call me Montana. Welsh thought you’d might like a job and reached out to Swede, a friend of mine.”

Hawk had been on Welsh’s SEAL team. The two had bonded after going through BUD/s training together and lucked out by not having to separate. If Welsh had called in to Swede and Montana, he could listen to what this Hank had to say.

“Did he tell you why I don’t have my old job?” Hawk asked.

“Sure, you got tossed for thinking too much when all you should do is shoot straight,” Hank joked.

The familiar taunt for SEALs to rely on their deep training to meet any obstacle so they wouldn’t have to think about it elicited a chuckle from Hawk.

“That’s about right,” Hawk agreed. “Of course, the nightmares are a battle on their own. I should get extra hazard pay.”

“Don’t we all wish we could. Look, I’ve got some work, if you want it, and I’d like to interview you.”

“Forgive me, but what is the job? Welsh likes to pull pranks on me, and I need to know what he got me into first.”

Heim, the leader of their team, was sarcasm’s bitch, while Snake was the pretty boy, Cry Baby lived for food, and Glitz took pride in blowing shit up. Welsh tended to stand out from the crowd with crazy pranks.

One time, he’d signed up the entire team for pole dancing lessons—disguised as a training mission—and had the commander sign off on it so it was an order to complete. The entire team, wearing tactical gear, showed up to a bikini-clad woman and seven poles temporarily placed in their gym area. They didn’t live that down for months. Even though the commander had approved it, he still had them all on latrine duty for two weeks—Welsh included.

Montana snickered. “I can assure you this is no prank. The job is becoming a member of Brotherhood Protectors. You will put your combat and leadership skills to the test guarding the rich who buy ranches near the Crazy Mountains in Montana. Don’t think it’ll be easy. Since our inception, we’ve had service members killed, attacks on the clients, and ambushes. How does that sound to you?”

Like a dream. But Hawk was broken.

“I’ve got PTSD. I want to get that out of the way. The Navy decided I couldn’t be a SEAL anymore. I—”

“Swede took a blast and lost range of motion in his gun hand, Bear has an injury to his leg and walks with a limp. Hell, I was near the same explosion that took out Swede, and I’m not in the service anymore, either. They didn’t take our skills. Our bodies and minds aren’t up to military standard for deployment, but it doesn’t mean we can’t still fight.”

Hawk sighed. He couldn’t say he wasn’t interested. Just the idea of being useful and having the chance to use what he’d learned in the service tempted him to scream yes. He wasn’t ready to take off his uniform and put it away.

“Being a civilian isn’t fun,” Hawk said.

“Good to know. Want to be interviewed now?”

“Hooyah.”

 

*

 

Hawk had done a bit of research on the Crazy Mountains before flying to Montana and heading to Bozeman to meet with Hank. As a full-blooded Lakota, he had to admit the tales of how the mountains had received their name saddened his heart. There were tales of a Mrs. Morgan killing a group from the Blackfoot tribe after they’d murdered her family, and the few who’d made it out alive had spread the tale of the crazed woman. Another legend told of Native Americans who were sent to the mountains to live as outcasts after being deemed “not right in the head.”

“Wakȟáŋšiča,” Hawk whispered as he looked out toward the mountain range. An evil spirit. He’d rather believe it was that. The view before him was breathtaking. The peaks rose and cut into the sky, their white caps rivaling the clouds. The wide-open air filled his lungs, and he swore the rhythm of his heart matched the ancient drums once played in this very place. This was Native land, not completely overtaken by expansion. Even Bozeman had found a way to nestle against the mountains instead of command it. Hawk could breathe here. In the stillness, his senses were on high alert. When the air shifted close to him, he spun around, his hand going to his sidearm.

“You must be Hawk. I’m Hank, and this is Swede.”

The heat of embarrassment swelled up his neck as he squeezed his hands into tight fists and let them fall to his sides. Civilian. This was the civilian world, and reaching for his weapon in the center of a sidewalk wasn’t the way to act. He looked over the two men in front of him. Hank stood at least six feet tall, with green eyes and dark-brown hair. His partner, Swede, was just a bit taller, his blond hair and blue eyes matching his name.

“Yes, I’m Hawk,” he forced out between clenched teeth.

“I should have called your name sooner. But your reflexes are good, and that will put you in good stead. Come on. I can tell you about your client on the way to Eagle Rock,” Hank told him.

Swede clapped Hawk’s shoulder in greeting, and the three men climbed into a truck to head out of town.

“Most of the clients have ranch land in Eagle Rock. It’s full of wide-open spaces, and the use of firearms isn’t unnatural there. We work closely with the sheriff’s department, and they know our business. It helps to not have to explain as many things. Usually, though, we don’t advertise our position as bodyguards. Our work comes purely from word of mouth, and we find another reason to be close to the client,” Hank explained.

“Hank here doubled as his wife’s boyfriend while he was protecting her, before they actually tied the knot,” Swede added.

“And he was a visiting friend from college for my sister when he protected her,” Hank said, indicating Swede.

“That makes sense. Wouldn’t want to alert whoever is coming after the client that they have protection. Might force them into hiding,” Hawk said.

“Exactly. You’re a quick study. We’ve got about a thirty-minute drive in to town, enough time to go into all the details. The client already knows she’s getting a bodyguard and has agreed to it.”

Hawk caught Hank’s gaze in the mirror. “She?”

“Swede, can you give him the file?”

“Sure thing. Here you are.”

Hawk opened the slim manila file and felt the air leave his lungs in a whoosh. Lana Augon stared back at him with dark-gray eyes and thick eyelashes. Her bronzed skin was clear, and her wild hair framed her face in black curls, with a touch of brown and red highlights. The fullness of her lips grabbed his attention, and he traced them with a shaking finger. He’d never seen a woman more beautiful.

She’s a job, Hawk. Get it together.

Forcing his gaze away, he cleared his throat. “What’s her deal?”

“She’s a plus-size model who’s become a spokeswoman for Curves Appeal of London, but she’s faced death threats and hate mail from her latest visit to an event in the States. The stalker has seemed to follow her, no matter what side of the ocean she’s on. She has had break-ins, missing items, and most recently the guy masturbated on her living room couch before cutting it up. No hits came back from the sample, so that’s not an option to find out who it is. She’s made it public she will be coming to the States for a hiatus, but she hasn’t revealed exactly where she’ll be,” Hank explained.

“We may have to deal with a media storm?” Hawk asked.

“No. Without knowing where she’s staying, the paparazzi can’t follow her here, but her stalker has been very efficient in finding her, even with sealed details,” Swede commented.

“Then it’s someone close to her,” Hawk mused.

“That’s what we believe. She’s purchased the ranch under and assumed name with no connection to her to further disrupt the trail, but I have a feeling it won’t matter. The rest of the details are in the packet. Look it over, and then we can meet the client. The sooner we get her protected, the better.”

“She’s already in Eagle Rock?”

“Yes. She’s been there for two days. Bear and Swede have been taking duty while we waited for you to arrive. If you need us, call. We are a team out here, Hawk. You’re not alone,” Hank answered.

Hawk looked over the former SEALs and wondered how the hell he’d caught this break. He supposed he’d have to call Welsh and thank him.