In the midst of a barrage of automatic weapon fire, Hawk ducked and ran toward the end of the razor-wire topped, mismatched board fence as rounds flew around him, chipping away at that fence. How in the hell had they gotten caught in a cartel war?

From the looks of the platoon of rag-tag, dark-skinned, heavily armed thugs, who snuck up behind them to unload from two trucks, and the fact they now surrounded the compound, that had to be what was happening. The immediate spray of bullets they began dumping into the compound said they weren’t there for a social call.

Hawk was more worried about the return fire coming from inside the compound, which put their surveillance positions in the crossfire. He hoped the others were moving too. Thank God, they’d spread out to surveil the compound and wait for darkness before they moved in closer. Otherwise, the attacking horde would have probably cornered them and shot them like ducks in a row.

When they got here a couple of hours ago, Hawk got a little too excited when he saw the Little Bird parked at the center of the compound and wanted to get in closer. Max quickly nixed that idea and took command. Hawk gladly relinquished it, because ground combat was not his specialty. Put him in a helo and tell him to provide air support and he would take out everything that moved. This was better left to Max.

Hawk just wished they had com equipment, because he was working on gut instinct now. The plan was to meet up half a klick to the north of the compound at dusk, so he hoped that’s where everyone was headed now, even though it wasn’t yet dusk.

The heavy body armor he wore made his legs feel like noodles by the time he reached the end of the fence. Stopping there a minute to catch his breath, he scanned down the back side of the fence and saw a six-foot section had been torn down. He had no idea if the invaders had taken it down to get into the compound, or if it had been like that before. What he did know, was that this was his chance, bullets or not, to get a good, unobstructed look inside.

Heart pounding in his ears, Hawk put his back to the fence as he crept toward the opening so he could watch the jungle for tangos. When he reached the downed fence he stopped, then crouched and swung into the opening for a quick look-see. Several shanty shacks sat in a sad row to the left, a huge building to the right with what looked to be a bunkhouse beside it, and an armory tent next to that covered in cargo netting. Three snipers were positioned at the corners on the top of the larger building, firing machine guns down into the jungle. Combatants ran from hide to hide across the center of the compound, shooting toward the gate where the attackers filed in like roaches.

Hawk started to stand to head for the meeting spot, but a flash of red caught his eye and his heart stopped when a woman with ragged, short-cropped auburn hair stepped out of one of the shacks with a rifle on her shoulder.

There was no way he was leaving that spot until he saw her face—he couldn’t, because his feet wouldn’t let him. A fair-skinned, red-haired woman was completely out of place in this compound, so it had to be her. But she was so thin and frail, her hair botched like a ten-year-old hacked it with dull scissors, he couldn’t be sure.

She took a step, her knees buckled and he thought she’d fall, but she found her balance and limped with determination toward the frenzied action. She was going to get herself killed, Hawk thought, grinding his teeth to keep from running to get her as he watched her limp toward a truck where a man was hiding. The camo-clad guy turned toward her, looked surprised then angry and she fired off two rounds. He clutched his chest, looked at his bloody hands then lunged for her, but she stepped aside and he fell at her feet.

Ignoring his unmoving body, she took position at the nose of the truck, aimed and fired sporadically. He thought the recoil would knock her on her ass because she was so frail, but she leaned against the truck and held her own.

Maybe she could take care of herself. But if that was Maddie, why in the hell was she fighting alongside her captors? She also had to be the woman he’d seen flying the helo this morning—for this cartel—probably on a drug run.

It just didn’t make sense to him why she’d do that.

Maybe it wasn’t her.

Hawk watched while she and the cartel members managed to take down most of the invaders in a matter of minutes. She finally pushed away from the truck and bowed her head as she lowered the weapon to her side. After a second, he tensed in anticipation and smiled when she turned toward him. A lightning bolt of shock slammed through him and he staggered back. His heart shot up to choke him and was the only thing that kept him from vomiting.

Her face was a grotesque parody of the face in his dreams. A network of raised purplish scars and wide, gaping wounds that criss-crossed over her forehead, cheeks, nose and jaw. Her mouth and left eye sagged at one corner. Those scars were a testament to the horrific injuries she must’ve suffered in the crash and Hawk just wanted to hug her and cry. The patchy, shaggy, dull hair that framed her face in uneven spikes only made it worse. The only thing that was the same about her were those haunting green eyes.

Those eyes met his and narrowed, as she flung the rifle back up to her shoulder to take aim. Hawk woke up from his nightmare and dove to the other side of the fence just as she opened fire and sprayed it with bullets.

He scrambled to his feet, stumbled into the jungle and ran. He didn’t know where he was running, but the female commando followed him to spray bullets at his back. Whoever that woman was, he was sure now, she wasn’t the woman he loved. Maddie Carter would never try to kill him and she had seen him well enough.

She was one of them now, and obviously wanted to stay there. Hawk had to find her brother and tell him they’d probably made a grave mistake coming here to find her, because she just told him she didn’t want to be found.

By the time Hawk got some of his senses back, enough to stop wandering through the jungle and figure out he was five miles beyond their meeting point, it was well past dark. He might have figured that out sooner, but he’d stopped three times to vomit and became disoriented.

The image of her brutalized face would be with him forever, and so would the snapshots his mind conjured to pair with them of what she must’ve gone through to get them. The fear she would have felt when she lost control, the pain she’d suffered through to recover. Anyone might snap after going through that.

Once the shock wore off during his five-mile walkabout, his brain finally started working again and he’d come to some conclusions. If Maddie had seen herself in a mirror, that could explain why she didn’t want to be found. If it was horrifying for him, it had to be doubly so for her to think of living like that back home.

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, leave here without her, even if she or her thug friends shot him. If they could rescue her and get her back to civilization, she could get the medical treatment and counseling she needed and be healed. He would help her find the best doctors and surgeons.

If she couldn’t be completely reconstructed, he would still be by her side to try to help her recover, whether she wanted his help or not. He’d left the military to do it for his mother so she didn’t have to suffer through breast cancer alone, and he would do it for Maddie, too.

Hawk didn’t love her for her fucking face. He didn’t love her for her body. He loved the woman inside that shell—her sweet, giving heart, her bawdy sense of humor, even her stubborn and determined spirit—which made her choose the military over him.

Regardless of what happened with her physically, he still wanted that woman. If she didn’t want him after she recovered, he’d just have to deal with it and let her go.

With a sigh, he cupped his hands around his mouth and cooed loudly—his sign to the guys that he was there, so they didn’t shoot him.