As Stacy pulled off the highway onto Main Street, Punta Gorda, Hawk’s phone rang.
“Malcolm,” Hawk answered. “Thanks for calling. Look, I’ve got a few names I want you to run through the databases.”
He touched the screen and Malcolm’s voice filled the silence. Grateful, Stacy sent Hawk a smile.
“—warn you, the system is down for maintenance for the next six hours. I’ve got a few outlets. Most of the work will have to happen after lunch.”
“Start with Thomas Fuentes. He’s the boy who was found killed. He was a part time worker at The Shack. Has a mom and sister in the area. I want to know if anyone from the Philippines contacted him—ever. Look at Roberto—”
“No.” Stacy reacted but knew it had to be done, even with their friends. Loyalties could be bought.
“Any connections, Malcolm. Cortez may have been working from our side and we just don’t know it yet. Roberto could have answered a question or said something. He might not have betrayed us, intentionally.” He was talking to her now. “We have to check because we have to protect him, too.”
She nodded, her eyes on the road as she pulled down the smaller dirt and gravel drive to The Shack. “Check the name Michael Richards as well,” she finally said it, finally spoke his name.
Hawk paused, looking at her, then nodded. “Got that, Malcolm?”
“Done. I’ll call you as soon as I have something.”
Nerves hit her stomach. “I have something to tell you,” she said to Hawk.
“Talk to me about Michael.” He cut right through the bullshit, which was a little ironic since he’d been giving her bullshit for quite some time. On the other hand, she hadn’t seen it or maybe she would have cut through his, too.
“He’s a friend I made in the two weeks we’ve been here.”
He blinked and frowned, and then he actually gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “Okay,” he said.
She didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved that he trusted her. And in that instant, she could see every mistake in vibrant color. She hadn’t stepped out on him, yet she’d compared the deficiencies in their relationship to the friendship she’d started with Michael. She’d made subtle comparisons to what they’d been going through, and finding the time with Michael to be herself, but she hadn’t felt free to be herself around her own husband?
That wasn’t guilt that ran through her blood. No, it was disgust.
“Remember the older guy I told you about? That’s Michael, and I owe you an apology.”
“Give me a break, Stacy. Why would I believe that after twenty years, you’re would cheat on me?”
“No. Not cheating.” There was anger there, that he would dismiss her feelings so easily. “I think I know what’s in my heart.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“No!”
“See?”
“Oh, my God.” Stacy huffed, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “No, I don’t see. All I know is, you were gone, and I was happy. Happy spending time with another man, a stranger.”
Uncertainty crossed Hawk’s face. His shoulders fell a little. She braced herself, not sure what to expect. She was used to his passion. His sense of right and wrong. His ability to stay the straight and narrow. Without his passion, she would be plain old Stacy Lange―quiet, studious daughter to a German immigrant. Probably a nun by now, just like Diane.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Babe.” His arm came out, rested on the back of her seat where his hand held her neck. His thumb moved against the skin there, leaving a warmth she hadn’t expected. “I’ve been kind of an ass lately.”
“That’s no excuse for it.”
“I know. But what are we really talking about? It? What is it? Lunch? Chatting at the pool?”
“We ran together once.”
Hawk gasped, making her bite back a laugh. “I’m not making little of your feelings. Okay? I get it. We shouldn’t be where we are right now, but it’s just as much my fault as it is yours. And we’ll get through it.”
She nodded and reached for the door.
“You going to be okay?”
They had to figure out what was going on, fix things where people were getting hurt before they worried about her feelings, his feelings. Didn’t matter if the conversation felt open-ended to her.
“I’m going to be.”
“Good, because I want to get back to talking about your job on the team.”
Her mouth fell open a little. “What?”
“I want to get back to our conversation.” His shoulder shrugged. “Telling you about my vision has helped me see something that I’ve been hiding behind. You were right. Your part in the business has always been strong. And I’ve let you take a back seat long enough.”
Hawk got up and out of the car before she could respond.
Shock rocked through her, though, and she couldn’t take her eyes from his tall, formidable form as he came around the car and leaned into the doorway. “You coming?”
“What made you change your mind?” she asked. Was it guilt over his part in the distance between them? “I don’t want pity or to come back just to sit around—”
“No. Like old times, babe.”
She couldn’t help be suspicious. “Why?”
“Well, why not? It’s what you want, isn’t it? Why are you arguing now, when I’m giving you exactly what you want?”
“I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy—”
“No, just argumentative.”
“Right. Sorry. Your agreement came out of the blue.”
He held a hand out to her, and she took it so he could pull her free of the vehicle.
“Geez. What’s wrong with me?”
He gave her a confused look and turned to look at her before he climbed the steps. “Is this a trick question?”
“No. I’m suddenly nervous.”
He grinned down into her face. “I can fix that.”
“Shit, are you making a sexual innuendo?” She laughed.
“No.” He chuckled. “I just meant. We can train together, if you’re nervous.”
“I’ve been training.”
“I know. I thought you just wanted to…workout. Get in shape. We can go back to the specific training tactics on self-defense, on hand to hand, and we can even start going over old operations just to refresh—”
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “We’re on the same page, and that’s what matters, right?”
He nodded, taking the lead around the porch to the main door of the little shop. He went first to clear the room, to protect her. And she kept her own eyes open, her body and senses on alert, somehow knowing that everything she did now would be like a test.
No wonder she was nervous. Ten years since she’d been accountable in the field. Failing was not an option.
***
“Yo, Jamie.”
“Back here,” Jamie called from the back room.
Hawk took in the damage as he stepped over the debris.
“My God, Jamie.” Stacy froze in the doorway of their small boating business. “What a mess.”
Jamie came from the back room, his hat twisted backward on his head. “Yeah, I was upstairs in the shower, when I realized someone was down here.”
“Did you get a good look?” Hawk asked.
“Young,” Jamie answered. “This wasn’t Cortez. I think I’d know Cortez. This guy moved like a kid.” Another kid.
“Like the one who broke into our suite?” Stacy’s voice filled with disbelief.
Hawk was connecting as many dots as he could, and he didn’t give a flying fuck anymore about how making assumptions could make a fool of him. Until they were certain what was going on…
There was no such thing as coincidence.
“Are we calling the police?”
Hawk shared a look with Jamie, getting a wordless confirmation, before answering her. “Yes. We’ll call because they’ve already got a file on the break-in. It wouldn’t do any good to hold back now. Especially if it’s the same guy.”
Jamie went back to working the desk, shuffling through strewn papers and righting his smashed computer. “Fucking Cortez, if you ask me. Excuse the language, Stacy.”
“How?” Stacy asked, ignoring Jamie’s apology. She’d thrown her purse aside and started in on the papers that covered the floor.
Hawk scratched a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “Just a game of odds, but really…what are the odds?”
“I still want to know how the hell he found us. In Belize?”
Hawk bent over and picked up the oxygen tanks covering the floor behind the desk. “Well, let’s make a list of who knows we’re here.”
“Everyone on the team.”
“Your parents, Stacy,” Jamie added.
She nodded. “The kids. Sometimes they talk.”
“The team is pretty secure, typically.”
“Are you saying the team isn’t secure right now?” Objection rang in Jamie’s voice—understandably.
Hawk shrugged. “Sort of. Couple of newbies. Girlfriends. One night stands… hell, the grocer, the banker, the candlestick maker. I’m not saying anyone would put us out there intentionally. It’s just, we’ve been in a lull, doing a lot of computer work and smaller jobs—couriering and personal protection. Maybe we’re getting too lax.”
The oxygen tank he set on the floor fell over and clanked on the hardwood. He picked it up and fumbled with it again. Hawk growled when it slipped from his grasp and knocked over several other tanks.
Stacy looked to Jamie. “So we’re suspecting Cortez.”
“We’re suspecting everyone, no one is excluded.”
“And Cortez never went down. Are you saying the operation went down in the books as incomplete?”
“The mission was to rescue Isabel Barba.”
Jamie pretended busyness, and Hawk realized that perhaps letting Cortez go all those years ago might have seemed like a weak move. “If you have something to say, I suggest you say it, Jamie.”
“We should have gone back for him.”
Hawk had hesitated, though. “He’d just lost his wife.”
“At his own man’s gun.”
“His business was dead in the water after we left. His reputation destroyed. We left him with nothing to cling to.”
“We should have left the fucker dead.”
“Hey,” Hawk moved to stand in front of Jamie, as if he could block the words from Stacy. Anger coursed through him. “Watch your mouth.”
“Quit it,” Stacy pressed between the two, putting a hand on his arm and pulling him back. “It doesn’t matter why anymore. Come on. Don’t do this. We’re not going to fight amongst ourselves.”
Hawk shrugged off her hand, the heat of it a reminder that he’d just agreed to let her back into this mess. He turned away. He already regretted it.
She could die.
“Let’s look at this objectively. Okay?”
Jamie stared him down, and he gave in. Because, in the end, he knew…
He should’ve taken care of Cortez.
The phone in his pocket. Turning away, he answered. “Malcolm. That was fast.”
At the initial silence, Hawk’s stomach dipped.
“Yeah, boss. Well, I found three Michael Richards, without even trying. I confirmed two who live in Colorado, a father and son. They’re happily spending a week in Florida, golfing, right now. Richards number three is an immigrant out of—”
“The Philippines.”
“Damn. How do you do that?”
“Can you get a photo?”
Malcolm cleared his throat. “Well, see. I’m not sure that’s going to matter right now because Richards, a San Francisco man, is dead. Died in his sleep two weeks ago.”
“Well, shit.”
“No, it gets worse.” Malcolm spoke, almost upbeat, as if he was excited. Hawk had to remind himself that this kind of research was fun for his team member. “Guess when Richards immigrated to the United States?”
He didn’t have to. “Ten years ago?”
“Bingo.”
“Send me a photo. I don’t care how. Obit, Facebook, Twitter… No one lives in the states for ten years and doesn’t get a picture taken. Find one. And send me one of Cortez, too.”
“Yes, sir.” And he hung up.
Hawk looked up and found Jamie and Stacy staring at him. “That was Malcolm. He says Michael Richards is dead. Two weeks ago.”
“But―” Stacy cleared her throat, and he could tell she was struggling with the news. “It’s true, then. I’ve been duped. I put you in danger. I led one of our enemies to Jamie.”
“My enemy. And we don’t know that.”
“Oh, please. It’s what we’re all thinking.” There was fire in her eyes as she spoke. “Besides, your enemy is mine…and Jamie’s. Isn’t that right, Jamie?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jamie said, raising his hand. “Are we saying that we think your friend here in Belize is Cortez?”
This time Hawk turned to Stacy before speaking. “I don't know, Stacy. You're the one spending all this time with him. What do you say?”
She flinched a little, and okay, he felt bad.
“He is—was—a nice man. He listened when I talked to him. He had time for me,” she whispered, her voice unexpectedly hoarse.
“He is a stranger.” Hawk's frustration broke, his voice weary.
“Maybe I needed a stranger!” She angrily wiped tears from her eyes. “I needed you, and you weren't there.”
“Whoa, whoa, hold on now. Both of you. This is getting out of hand,” Jamie stepped between them. “Listen. Obviously, you have some unresolved issues. Is anyone considering filing for divorce here?”
“What?” Stacy asked, disbelieving. Relief shook him.
“No,” he answered, even though deep inside, he’d wondered. “What the fuck, Jamie?”
“Just putting things back into perspective, ya know?” And then he grinned, and Hawk wanted to punch him right in the face. Jamie was right, though. Hawk hadn’t realized how far he’d gone down that road until his friend voiced it.
Did saving Stacy from his problems mean divorcing her? No way. He didn’t believe in divorce, as in…no. Divorce wasn’t an option, not for him. He’d grown up in a home riddled by divorce. That wouldn’t be saving Stacy.
“Fine. You’re right. This is bigger than that, and no one’s going anywhere.” Hawk leaned into the front counter, palms down, and then sent a glance Stacy’s way.
She looked angry, which he found a good thing. It was when she looked lost or sad that things were really bad.
“We need to find Richards,” he said.
“I know where we can do that.”
He caught her gaze, and she tilted her chin up, as if daring him to question her. He wouldn’t though. There was just too damn much else to worry about.
“If this guy really is Cortez. I’ve got one word. Ballsy.” Jamie walked over to the fridge in the corner and pulled out a few bottles and handed one off to each of them. He tipped his beer to theirs in salute. “How could he be sure you wouldn’t talk to Hawk two weeks ago?”
Stacy glanced at him before addressing their friend. “Because he knew. He’d already been watching us. And he’d have known about the trouble in Manila because he instigated it, trying to create a weak link. Even you noticed, Jamie…the distance between Hawk and I.”
Hawk’s gaze stayed on her. He never cared what other people thought. Never went into secret mode when it came to their friends. If he was mad, they knew it. If he was happy, so be it. And when he needed her to know of his love…he didn’t let anything get in his way, including the lack of solitude.
He reached for her, gently placing a hand on her cheek, tracing the yellowed bruising on her face.
“The dance is tonight. Michael dances, he was always in one of the afternoon sessions.”
“He wouldn’t suspect that we know anything.” Having a plan was a good start. He looked at his phone, waiting for a text from Malcolm. “Come on.”
“Let’s go back to the suite.” Stacy suggested. “We can regroup there. And you never know, maybe we’ll see Michael.”
***
Knowing a little more about what they were up against eased some of the tension from her muscles. She kept a watchful eye on the road as she drove back to the resort. The day was heating up. The sun was shining against the clear blue sky interrupted by a few streaks of clouds.
It seemed almost too perfect. She hated that Cortez was messing with her paradise. This was her special corner of the world. Could Michael Richards really be Cortez? It was hard not to believe. Like Hawk always said, there is no such thing as coincidence.
“Cortez is tying up loose ends and finishing what he started.”
“Finishing what he thinks you started…” Stacy's laugh came forced. “This is great, isn’t it? I was just thinking about how boring this trip was starting to get.”
Hawk grunted, too distracted to take in her sarcasm.
“I knew something was off. Why didn’t I listen to myself? As if a man like…any man is going to want a thirty-something year old.”
“You should go home,” he said.
“We talked about this. We were on the same page.” She threw the car into park and shook her head because no matter how annoying it was, she'd fallen in love with this bossy man long ago and had made him bossy husband by choice. “No way. I'm not leaving now. I'm not leaving Belize until you're on the plane with me. This is our time, our company, our fight. I've waited an entire year to be in Belize again, and I’m not going to let Cortez scare me away.” She gripped the steering wheel. “We'll do this one together. I'll watch your back, you watch mine. That’s how we work. You won’t send me home.”
Hawk considered her with a frown then gave in silently. “So, we go dancing then.”
“What?” her voice rose in exasperation. “You don’t want to play spy and hide behind pillars? Confirm Cortez from a distance?”
“I want to take my thirty-something, hot-ass wife dancing.”
“You don’t even like—”
“I do too,” he interrupted.
She looked at him then. “Really? In public? Because the only dancing I've seen you do is behind closed doors.”
“Oh yeah, baby.” His grin blinded her.
Groaning, she bit the smile from her lips. “Not that kind of dancing.”
Even with the weight of concern pressed against her, she chuckled.
Her laugh faded. They'd survived in this business without any major repercussions. Now someone was haunting him. Hunting him.
“So we go on our own hunting expedition.”
“If we start hiding now, it’ll look like we know something. We don’t want to scare him off…if it’s him.”
“What are we going to do when we see that he is Cortez?”
“Truthfully? I’ll probably kick his ass, and then hand him over to the police.”
“But he hasn’t done anything wrong that we can prove.”
“If he’s Cortez, then he won’t be able to avoid a confrontation. We just have to connect him to all the stuff that’s gone on since we’ve been here.”
“You want to provoke him.”
A group of vacationers moved in front of the car, from the beach trail toward the cabins. Young people who would spend the day on the beach and then dance and drink into the early hours of the morning. They used to do the same.
“I want him to stand in front of me like a man and…yeah, have his say. Get whatever it is off his chest.” Hawk rested his elbow on the door’s window sill and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “What happened was awful. God, it was…crushing, and not just for him, but—for him—a thousand times more than what I felt, watching that woman die with a baby in her arms. And it doesn’t matter that his family wasn’t supposed to be there. It doesn’t even matter she was hit by his bullets. We can’t be sure what’s going on in his head, Stacy.”
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “I’m scared.”
“I would never let anything happen to you, Stacy.” His defensive tone spoke louder than his words, and she couldn’t blame him.
“I'm not concerned for my physical welfare, geez. I’m worried about you, worried about the team. How did Cortez get by us?” He wouldn’t like that she was questioning, especially in this new territory where their foundation was slightly off kilter. “I, I wonder if we need a break―”
“We’re on a break now, Stacy.”
“I don’t mean another vacation—”
“Wait, you mean as in, we need a break?”
“Jeez, no. Unless, do you think we need a break?”
He frowned at her. “I thought we cleared that up.”
“Yes. We did.” For some reason—okay, for all the reasons—his confirmation that they were okay made relief flood through her. “Yes. I mean, from work—”
She broke off when he tensed in the seat beside her. He loved his work. Her suggestion might be more of an offense than the two of them breaking up.
“Great. We'll have to think about that.” His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned forward and picked up her purse from the floor at his feet, tossing it to her as he opened the door. “Can we get going?”
“Hawk, wait—”
He closed the door, cutting her off. She rolled her eyes, and got out of the car, not surprised in the least to find that he was still standing there, waiting for her. “Old habits die hard, eh?”
“You’re a target, Stacy.” Hawk drew her to his side. “Get used to having me around, at least until this is over.”
Until this was over.
“That’s not what I meant,” she argued.
He took her arm as they walked, done listening for now.
***
Cortez leaned against the railing on the small deck off his suite. He drew in a puff of his cigar, the tip flaring to life. He watched the couple cross the parking lot and head down the path to the beach houses.
He tapped the ash aside.
“Trouble in paradise,” he whispered. Hawk and Stacy were at odds. Twenty years was a long time. Mid-life crisis, boredom. She showed the signs by cozying up to him so easily. Young people knew nothing about longevity. Sticking it out. The statistics proved that.
People didn’t know how to make a good thing last anymore. If his Nina were still alive, he’d have had thirty years…Thirty years.
Perhaps killing them both would be a mercy. Unfortunately—for them, he wasn’t feeling very merciful.
“Everything is ready.”
Cortez nodded. His son was stepping up to the task. He was purpose driven now that he’d been given his head. And his hate ran deep enough for both of them.
He hadn’t seen that until now, and it pleased him. “Then we’ll lie low.”
Daniel scowled.
“Patience.” He crossed the patio and ground out the tip of his cigarette in the ash tray that sat on the glass-topped table. “Give them a chance to relax, drop their guard.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
In the doorway, Miguel turned back to his son. He lifted his brow, the earlier feelings of pride buried by this obstinate side of his son’s impulses.
It wouldn’t hurt to check on the work at the house, either.
No mistakes. Nothing left to chance.
And tomorrow, he would take it all back.