Daniel had disappeared again.
The irritation that threatened to unhinge Miguel rose to the surface. He had no doubt his son would return. The boy was too bold and full of himself not to.
So he would wait patiently. First for his son to return, and then for Stacy to return. Though nothing would have killed Hawk’s will and pride more than having his wife choose Michael, Miguel could be flexible. His original plan to bring her to her knees might have been more satisfying. Revenge was funny that way. It wasn’t picky. Miguel would use another method.
Daniel would help. Miguel had learned a lesson about Daniel’s growing independent streak, and in the end, he would use his son’s new-found passion so they would both get what they wanted.
Ten years had given him such an ache.
Finally, he would have his day. He would take from Hawk what had been taken from him.
Miguel sighed as he went to the back porch of the old property on the north side of Punta Gorda and flipped the electrical breakers on the box at the back of the house. The kitchen and the bedroom lights shut down. He emptied his vehicle. Brown bags of groceries for the next week. His own small bag with extra clothes. And then finally, his weapons cases. Two Walthers, ammo, a set of knives, and last but not least…
Miguel lifted the lid of the box compartment at the bottom of the case.
Two bars of C4. Three detonators.
His fingers brushed the roll of wire, shook a little at the anticipation of the fireworks to come.
It was time to narrow the field, bring the players to him.
The backdoor slammed shut. His son had arrived.
“Where have you been?”
Daniel shrugged. “I had business.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes,” Miguel corrected without even thinking about it. He scowled. “Your business is here now. Anything you feel needs to be done goes through me first.”
The mulish gleam in his son’s eyes predicted the fight on his tongue. Daniel merely scoffed and made his way to the fridge. “There’s nothing to eat.”
“I have the room at the hotel for a few more nights. It wouldn’t do to disappear without a trace, yet. That would only raise questions.” Miguel zipped the case in front of him.
“Nathan Hawkins and Stacy are on vacation with no care for you.”
Carefully lifting the case, he brought it through the doorway and into the living room. A folding table and two chairs sat on the opposite wall under a window. “Daniel,” Miguel called out to him, ignoring the disdain and the underlying bitterness of his son’s tone. “I need a chair. Go get one.”
“What the hell do you need a chair for?”
“For our visitors,” Miguel answered with the patience of a saint. Daniel had learned obstinacy during his time in the States, with his aunt. He regretted those years. Desperate without Nina, he had no one but his sister to turn to. He hadn’t known what to do with such a young boy. He’d had a business to pull out of the barrel. And he’d worked to get back on top, in a place where he could move freely across the globe.
He’d plotted his revenge. The grief slowly morphed, sending a shot of satisfaction through his veins, and he spoke to himself. “This is why you are here. You have taken care of the infidels who would destroy your stronghold.”
He relaxed, blew out a breath. He’d had a setback, but he was still on track. He turned.
Daniel stood at the wall, leaning against it, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He nodded to Miguel. “Now it is time for him to pay.”
The hard glint returned to his son’s eye.
A flash of something unexpected had him looking hard at his son. Pride. Not a man yet, but learning the rules. “You will do well.”
Daniel shrugged, his youth still obstructing his pleasure of the job at hand. “What we’re doing doesn’t need to be done well.”
With great satisfaction, Miguel smiled.
The lessons were about to begin.
***
The sound of Hawk’s voice woke Stacy from a restless sleep at―she glanced at the night table―four in the morning. It took her a moment to remember where she was―a hotel, inland. Releasing her breath, she waited another minute for her eyes to adjust to the shadows. Something was wrong. She knew it like she knew Hawk was no longer in bed with her. He stood in the corner, to the right of the window, casting his shadow across the room.
The air zapped with an electric tension, causing the hair on her arms to rise. Hawk's voice rose then lowered, a rollercoaster of quiet sound. She held her breath and struggled to hear the conversation.
And then she heard it. One word. Philippines.
And she frowned. They’d had enough trouble already. She sat up and ran a hand through her hair then stretched the muscles in her back and shoulders as she waited.
“What happened?”
“That was Jamie. His place was broken into tonight.”
“What?” Alarm raced through her. “Is he okay?”
“He says he’s okay.”
“We should go. We never should’ve left.” She started packing, her heart up in her throat. Because she hadn’t done what she told herself to do. She was being chicken, as if whatever he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. It was sure as hell hurting her.
He came to her, held her face in his hands, and as he led her to the bed, he massaged the tension from her shoulders at the same time. “You know what?”
“What?”
He knelt in front of her. “I think this is the end of our vacation.”
The disappointment that washed through her was actually relief. “I don’t think calling this a vacation is even fair.”
“No. You’re right.” He pushed her to sit, and went to the little fridge in the corner for a bottle of water. Handing it over, he leaned over and kissed her head. “Let’s pack, get a car.”
She grabbed his hand before he could walk away, stopping him and making him come back. He smiled down at her. “There will be other vacations.”
“Definitely.” His reassurance was enough right now, because two days ago, she’d wondered if he was leaving her for good, if he’d had enough.
Hawk cupped her face, leaned down, and thoroughly kissed her mouth. Then he rose as if to go and squeezed her breast through the tank she wore instead. Such a familiar touch, and she backhanded his rear in pseudo offense as he walked away.
“I’m taking a quick shower.”
“Kay,” she said, watching him, so strong and lean and not looking weak at all. “Hey, we’ll make the over-fifties dance now that we’re going back early.”
Hawk grimaced. “Whoo-hoo.”
She grinned. “You’ll love it.”
She changed and finished packing for both of them, and then wandered over to the bathroom door and opened it.
Hawk stood at the mirror, dabbing a cut on his chin, frustration written on his face.
“You okay?”
“Something had happened yesterday after dinner; an ache at the base of my head and pressure behind my eyes.”
Her heart thumped. “Okay.”
There was a mass of tissue, unwanted, unneeded and sitting in his head like a ticking bomb. They’d always known this and had been told nothing would come of it—most likely. The mass itself was benign. Scar tissue from a rap to the head he'd taken years ago, during his time in the military—well before his time in Hawk Elite.
She’d heard the story about his run in with an IED. How his men had carried him out, and days had passed before he regained consciousness.
Hawk ran his fingers along the scar above his ear.
“Is it―” When she cleared her throat, he turned to where she stood, leaning against the door jamb, and placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He was comforting her... “Can you see?”
He didn't press his lips to the top of her head. He didn't move his hand to touch her face. His smile seemed forced. “I’m going to be fine. Just a little blurry right now. It clears.” He didn’t have to finish that sentence. …this time. …usually. Those words were screaming through her head.
“Do you mind driving?”
“You know I don’t.” She got up into his space and held his face with her hands. “Look at me.”
He finally met her gaze, and then, as if closer would help him see, he lowered his forehead to hers to look into her eyes. “I miss seeing your light, babe.”
She blinked back the emotion those words brought. “You don’t have to see it, Hawk. You can feel it and hear it. I’m not going anywhere. We’re not quitting over this. And we’re certainly not going to put the cart before the horse, right?”
He kissed her forehead. “You’re right. Don’t let me, Stace. Don’t let me get bogged down by the negative.”
“I won’t.” And she wrapped her arms around his waist, rested her ear on his chest, and felt the pounding of his heart.
They would get through this.