THE RESCUED

Agent King peered at Claudia. “Name?”

She stayed quiet, picking incessantly at the sleeve of the long-sleeve shirt that someone had provided. Glancing around, her eyes picked up on all of the details. White walls. Cramped corners. A sterile scent that reeked of bleach. She’d kept her fingerprints to herself so far, pulling at the shirt sleeves and tucking her fists in them.

The other agent, a woman, leaned forward. She wore a name tag, one that said Marcantonio, though she’d told her to call her Gina—her tone the soothing sort typically reserved for toddlers. “Why did he shave your head?” She circled the edge of the table, peering at Claudia as if she was a window display. “None of the other women have shaved heads.”

Claudia lifted her chin and met the woman’s inquisitive stare. “Punishment.”

That, paired with an irritated look from the head agent, shut her up. The woman folded her arms across her chest in an irritated fashion that made Claudia like her a little more. She stole a glance at the woman’s watch and did the math. Fifty-four minutes had passed since she’d locked the blond in the box. Good thing she’d set the timer for an hour.

So far, in the half hour since they’d carefully brought her out of the cell, she’d been given a stack of Oreos and some water. She’d ignored half of their questions and given only short responses when she had responded. They hadn’t pushed. They seemed to have the opinion that being kept prisoner weakened an individual’s mental state. And maybe, in other camps and with other keepers, it did. But Robert Hawk was different. Under him, she had grown stronger—both mentally and physically. They were handling her with kid gloves when they should have brought out machetes.

She threw the first breadcrumb out. “How close are we to the warehouse?”

The agents exchanged a look, and the man responded. “About fifty feet.”

She bound her hands across her midsection and glanced toward the door in her best impression of a nervous woman. “We should move.”

The female agent got the hint, one she’d practically spray painted across the walls for them. “Why should we move?”

She didn’t respond, taking the moment to begin rocking, her chin tucked, eyes down.

“Miss.” He leaned forward, across the table, and when he reached a hand out toward her, she flinched as if she’d been shot. He retreated at the same time that the female agent advanced.

“Why do you want to be farther away from the warehouse?”

That was the thing about cops. Push them into the direction of a question, and then don’t answer the question? They’d swarm on that topic like piranhas.

She swallowed, then threw them a giant, juicy bone. “I saw her, wiring the explosives.” For theatrical fun, she took another fearful glance in the direction of the door, her rocking motion increasing in speed. “We should move further away.”

Three minutes. Three minutes, and then it’d all be over with.

BELL

The moon swayed with each of Dario’s steps. I gripped his neck and rested my head against his chest, listening to the solid beat of his heart. It didn’t feel real, being reunited with him, being out of that place. I squeezed his neck muscles, inhaled the scent of him, and curled tighter into his hold.

“We’re almost there. Just hold on.”

I could see the ambulance ahead of us, its lights reflecting against his shirt, the doors open. An EMT ran beside Dario, trying to assist him, but I wouldn’t let go of him, not until we got to the ambulance. They’d already prepped me for what would happen there: the removal of the knife. I was almost looking forward to it. The pain had dulled to a screaming throb, one that seemed to shriek with every step Dario took.

I squeezed his neck to get his attention. “Did they find the blonde? The one who took me?”

He looked down at me, and I watched his features harden. “Not yet. But don’t worry, they will. That place is surrounded and the FBI just showed up. They’ll get her, wherever she’s hiding.”

I nodded, my nerves bound tight. I watched the dark fields, the night enveloping us the moment we stepped away from the building. I needed them to find her. I needed her to be behind bars. I needed them to question her and find out what her motivations were, and why she was hell-bent on punishing us.

“Stop worrying. I’m here.” His voice was gruff and his body curved around me, his mouth pressing a kiss against my forehead. I closed my eyes, my hand tightening on his arm.

“Tell me somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. Anywhere.”

I looked up to find his gaze on me, the view bobbing as he carried me forward. “Anywhere?”

I had visited three states in my lifetime: Nevada, California, and now? Louisiana. Throw in a weekend trip to Tijuana once and I’d thought my world travels were over. “Alaska. I want to see a whale.”

He chuckled. “Alaska it is. As soon as you’re healed enough to travel.”

His mouth returned to my head, then he strained down to reach my lips, the kiss a mix of desperation and need. He pulled away carefully, and I smiled.

“Don’t forget the whale.”

“I’ll show you so many you’ll grow bored of them.”

There was a shout from behind us, the tones urgent. Dario spun around. The moon reflected off of the warehouse’s metal roof, casting the rest of it in shadow, a long rectangle that looked too innocent, too peaceful. There was a long moment of quiet, and Dario started to turn back.

I stopped him. “Wait.”

I pointed at the dark figures that streamed out of the warehouse door. The rescue team ran in all directions, some headed our way.

“What the—” Dario stepped back, shifting me higher for a better vantage point.

I turned my attention to the FBI trailer, watching as the door flew open, Agent King coming out, and turning to help a pair of women. The warehouse’s door slowly swung shut, extinguishing the bright light of its interior, and cutting off my view of the ins—

Everything exploded in a flare of red hot heat. Debris flew, bits of dust and a force of wind hit my skin, and I ducked into Dario’s chest, his hand cupping my head, his shoulder turning to shield us from the blast. We were across the field, yet I felt the vibration of it in my bones, the boom reverberating, the bright light of it blinding.

It was over in a heartbeat. Loud chaos, then the crackle of death. The heat retreated and I peered over his shoulder at what was left of the warehouse. It couldn’t even be called that anymore. It was an inferno. Flames licked the sky, black smoke billowing, the bones of the building standing out in glowing red lines. Who had still been inside? With such a large building, with the teams looking for the kidnapper… someone had to have still been inside.

Someone…

I panicked, thinking of Rick… Lance… Laurent. I snapped my head to the left, then the right, scanning the dark fields, the paramedics, the bright orange glow of the fire. It reflected off the damaged trailer, the vehicles… I strained forward, fighting for a better view, and my leg screamed in protest.

“Miss—” The paramedic protested, and I waved him off.

“Where are—”

I saw Lance, crouched behind one of the prisoners, a cup in hand. I inhaled, my gaze jumping through the others, a windbreaker moving aside and revealing Rick, his arms crossed, attention on the flames. Unharmed. Thank God. I sagged into Dario’s arms and felt his hands tighten on my legs.

“It’s okay, Bell. I promise.”

“Wait.” I pushed against his chest, the final band of tension not yet released. “Where’s Laurent?” I forced my gaze to slow, my eyes burning from the smoke, the glare still too intense to look at without squinting. I passed over paramedics, FBI jackets, and heavily armored men. I looked for a thick beard, for his beanie, for that huge build. “I can’t find him!”

His hold tightened on me. “He’s okay, Bell. He wasn’t in there.”

“No.” I struggled in his hold, needing to be on my own feet, needing him to go there, right now, and find Laurent. He had to. I couldn’t… if he… my chest constricted, my breath wheezing, and I dug my nails into his arm. “Dario, you have to find him. I CAN’T SEE HIM!”

I couldn’t have another innocent death caused by our mistakes. Especially not Laurent. I thought of him, all of his gruff kindness, the way his eyes had squinted when he found something humorous, the way he had squeezed my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. I clutched a fistful of Dario’s shirt and shoved out of his arms, hobbling on one foot toward the paramedics. Dario followed, and I held up a hand and forced him to look in my eyes.

“Find him.” I rasped out the order, my throat raw, my self-control wavering. “Please.”

THE WINNER

She ran through the dark field, away from the police’s entry points, aiming for the adjacent parcel. The grass was dry, the footing uneven, and she slowed her stride, her bare feet gingerly picking their way over the wild underbrush.

The urge to whoop out a victory call was tempting. Fuck the FBI. Fuck Bell Hartley and Dario Capece. Fuck every individual who thought that they could outsmart her. She was a mother-fucking Hawk. And soon, after the will was read, everyone would know it. She would get away with everything and Dario Capece would have no idea that his newest business partner was the same woman who had killed his wife.

Not that Gwen had been intentional. But hadn’t Robert always said she was weak? Hadn’t he taught Claudia lessons through Gwen’s failures?

Sure, it hadn’t fit their plan. She’d had big dreams of being best friends with Gwen. Equals. Sisters. That hadn’t happened. What had Robert always said? Pain makes us stronger. Oh, and death is part of life. He’d told her that, right after he’d taken Tanaka’s. Well, she had brought the death. Right now, Robert was watching her with a giant grin on his face. He was saying well done and bragging about the cunning daughter that he had. This plan was better than his plan. Or it would be, once she had a chance to change her appearance, create a new game plan, and come back into Dario Capece’s life and finish the job.

He would never see her coming. Once the fire went out, once they found the eight-foot box with the blonde inside… their search for the kidnapping realtor would be over. Case closed. Danger gone.

She saw the fence ahead, the outline becoming visible in the dark. Slowing to a walk, she moved down its perimeter until she reached the gate, hidden from anyone who didn’t know where to look. Picking up the lock, she entered the combination, yanked the latch open, then slipped through the opening.

Her vehicle was now gone, victim to the explosive devices that she and Robert had wired throughout the warehouse’s infrastructure. It didn’t matter. Stepping onto the neighboring parcel, she headed for the middle of the field and the small tree, planted specifically for one purpose—to mark the eight-foot box’s air vent.

Before her, the sky glowed, the clouds reflecting the blaze, and the smell of smoke was heavy in the air. Slowing her steps, she scanned the ground, her search taking longer than expected before she found the small pipe, the diameter of a soda can.

“It looks too skinny.” She examined the pipe, her opinion producing a scoff from Robert Hawk.

“Think of how small your throat is, little dove. You breathe just fine through it.”

She wrapped her hands around her own throat, considering the logic. “How long would we survive without the air pipe?”

“In that box?” He frowned. “A half hour. Maybe less.”

She crouched and lifted up the small cap that hung from the lip of the vent and twisted it on, tightly capping the vent and blocking the flow of fresh air.

She stood, taking a moment to look down at her handiwork and wondered if she would feel any compassion for the woman, trapped in that box, underneath that inferno. Ten seconds passed, and she envisioned what would happen when the air started to get thin, wondered if the box was properly insulating the woman from the heat. Another ten seconds passed, and she pictured her mounting panic, the desperate claw at the handle in an attempt to free herself. After another few seconds, she straightened, firm in her resolve and confident of her decision.

Maybe, she mused, she didn’t have much of a heart left. Maybe, between Tanaka and Robert’s death, there wasn’t anything in her left to feel.

She thought back to Bell Hartley, remembered the way the brunette’s eyes had flashed when she’d said Dario’s name. There had been fight in her little body, despite her weak position, the injection’s drugs still present in her system. It’d been a cute letter. She’d seen the sincerity and thought behind it. She’d noticed the way her forehead had scrunched in concentration, the pen trembling when she’d put it to paper. The girl had stopped several times during the composition, pausing to think, putting the end of the pen in her mouth as she had reread over her last few lines.

Too bad the man had been Dario. With any other man, Claudia might have rooted her on. But Dario had already been taken, had been a pivotal part of the Hawk empire’s success. Bell had threatened to take him away, a move that had jeopardized everything.

One little cocktail waitress, one Vegas slut out of a million…and she almost caused the fall of the Hawk dynasty. One little cocktail waitress, who caused a domino of events that had left both Gwen and Robert dead within a week of that San Diego trip.

Now, there was only herself. The last remaining Hawk, and the only daughter who was truly worthy of his bloodline. She had everything—the training, the self-control, the intelligence, the resolve. With her, the Hawk name would come back stronger than ever.

It wouldn’t be easy. She’d have to be smart about it. Get plastic surgery. Lay low. Quietly work with Hawk’s estate attorney to transfer his assets into her possession. Get her name changed. Wait several years and then reemerge and introduce herself to Vegas. To Dario. To Bell Hartley, should the weakling still be around.

They wouldn’t recognize her. They’d welcome a long-lost Hawk with the proper level of courtesy and respect, especially with the business holdings that his estate would grant her. They’d bring her into their lives with no idea of the hell she would eventually unleash.

She turned back, the sound of sirens faint. Fire trucks. They wouldn’t be able to do much. It’d take hours for the flames to die down. Hours for paperwork and investigations, for body counts and medical care. Would they even notice her absence? If they did, a half-hearted attempt to find the lost abducted girl might begin. But without a name, photo or suspicion of involvement, the search would wither, and the lost Hawk captive would eventually be a Wikipedia footnote and little else.

One girl gone. Another reborn.

She continued forward, and the sound of the highway grew louder. When the foot hooked around her ankle, she flew forward, her hands scraping on the rocks, and a scream slipped out of her before she could rein it in.

“Easy there.” The voice was deep and unfamiliar, and she rolled to the side, scrambling to her feet, and froze at the sight of the man, her hands lifting, her eyes zeroing in on his gun.

“Who da fuck are you?” The man spoke with a thick drawl that dripped with an accent she couldn’t place. He stepped closer, his face coming into focus, the moon exposing strong features almost hidden by a thick beard. He was a mountain man, one who yielded his gun with the confidence of someone interested in using it.

“And…” he smirked, settling into his stance, and nodded at the tree a hundred yards back. “What da fuck was that pipe?”