Chapter Two
Five years ago, an explosion had embedded bits of shrapnel in his brain. Hawk joked that he was more like one of the characters in the sci-fi novels Stacy liked to read because, though the doctor had made him like new, he still had pieces up there they hadn’t been able to get out.
Calling that time rough was a gross understatement. Stacy had handled it like a professional, even if it had taken too much out of her, emotionally and physically. He had to wonder if those days of being physically unable were coming back to haunt him.
Better yet, how could he stop it from spilling over into what he and Stacy had built for themselves?
Dinner was over and they sat together in the small dining area, legs entwined beneath the table. He tapped his foot against her calf. “What are you thinking?”
A breeze blew through the open bay window and the curtains fluttered against the floor. She sighed. “It was nice to talk to the kids.”
“Yeah. John sounded excited about the girl he met.” It amazed him that their straining-to-be-independent son of seventeen years could be so pleasant when they had an ocean between them.
“Well, he couldn’t be happier with free rein of the German countryside while we’re in Belize, as far from his back pocket as we can possibly get.”
“Right.” Hawk grinned.
“Don’t grin.” A smiled played at her lips, even as she teased him. “It was exactly your youthful gregariousness that brought us together. We should be hoping my parents keep him very, very busy.”
Stacy relaxed even more, though, and smiled as they talked about what each of their offspring were up to. He liked to see her comfortable and unstressed, even if it would be temporary. He wasn’t dummy enough to look beyond the fact that she’d been hinting at making a change, at filling a bigger role in the company. And that scared the crap out of him.
“Moira sounds like she’s giving the flower shopkeeper a run for her money,” he said.
“She’s curious.”
“About flowers now? Last year it was marine life and wanting to be a marine biologist.” Hawk loved that about their daughter. So inquisitive. “When you’re as young as she is, anything is possible.”
It was the aging that changed that…
“They’re all having a blast,” he admitted.
“Well, I miss them, but I don’t mind a little vacation from them.”
“Not that it’s been much of a vacation so far.” There was guilt there.
“We’re together, aren’t we?”
He looked at her, the serious gaze from her blue eyes. “Yes. And I’m going to clear the desk for us. If worse comes to worst, and I have to fly out to the Philippines, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Stacy got up and stacked her plate on his, raising her brow, because she knew him, knew the business well enough to know…there were no guarantees.
“Hey, come on. Where’s the upbeat, positive gal I married, huh?”
“Look, I can take the oddball distance that’s been gaining momentum over the last few months. Even I’ve been a little unsettled.” Turning back to him, she nailed him with a gaze that forced truth. “Let’s be realistic, okay? We planned this vacation a year ago, and we still couldn’t make it happen without work involved.”
Hawk’s hand went automatically to his head, and he scratched. Damn. “Okay, okay... You’re right—” Yet, he had to stop. “You’re unsettled?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Her short crop of hair swung forward as she shook her head. She wasn’t just sad, though…more on the verge of something else—anger?
“What do you want?”
“I want you to finish things in Manila, or let Tan finish them, and then come back here so we can watch a movie or the sunset…or hell, the sun rise.”
When he picked up their dishes, she waved him on. “I got this.”
He took them to the kitchen anyway and left them in the sink. “Stacy,” he said her name, relieved when she turned to him. “I’m sorry.”
She rolled her eyes, good humor in them.
For now.
***
Miguel crouched, sitting on the end of the country lane, waiting for the man.
The one who would pay.
The sky was dark with the clouds of a million rain drops that fell on his head.
He waited, and waiting saw the life he should have had. Years with his Nina, with the one woman who made him the man he was meant to be. The one who brought peace when there was none, and laughter and joy.
She was his everything.
She was dead.
He had killed her.
He held her in that last moment.
He had his hands on her when the bullets, aimed for him, ripped through her young, vibrant body.
Nathan Hawkins, retired Army, company owner, family man and husband…was going to die today.
The sound of a truck, traveling down the road brought through his thoughts.
This was it.
He lifted the gun and rested it in the notch at shoulder level. The tree stood back in the grove off the drive—hidden yet with a clear view. A bird chirped in the distance. Wind blew through the trees over his head.
And then the truck was there, coming down the dirt road, straight toward him.
His hands shook. His breath hesitated on the exhale…
He aimed, watching closely. The truck’s motor grew louder, the crank of gears scraped along his subconscious, like it always did.
Miguel pulled the trigger. Saw the bullet, in slow motion…and in front of it a face.
His breathing grew too shallow. His heart beat increased. His palms perspired against the stock and barrel.
And the face changed—from Hawkins to Nina…
Miguel sucked in a breath and sat up, the feeling of free falling high in his chest and throat. He swallowed. Just a dream. Sweat dripped down his brow, down his bare chest. He turned and sat on the edge of the bed, wiping his face with his hand.
Those perilous days after everything had fallen apart. The loss had left him desolate, unable to make decisions. His business had not withstood his world, crumbling around him. Within months, he’d lost his hold on the growing export industry in and around Jakarta. He’d come back, though. Stronger, better…colder, and more able to do what needed to be done. He’d failed once. He wouldn’t do so again.
Miguel was close now. He’d dug for years, always one step away from finding the man who had breached his circle that day. The man who had put Nina in the line of fire. And finally, he’d found his Ghost. Hawkins.
Nathan Hawkins, and his very pretty wife. Who he dreamed about destroying. Who he wanted to take down, little by little, just like he’d done to him.
And after all these years, he would do so with great pleasure.
“What’s wrong?”
Cortez shook off the reminiscence, remembered the woman in the parking lot, and turned to his newest paramour. He’d hoped for a distraction until he had the one who mattered—Hawkins’ wife.
The redhead would do for now. And as he slid inside of her, he thought of the sweet, cautious American with the stunning azure eyes.
***
Hawk woke to heat. With a pounding head and groggy eyes, he shifted away from the source only to have it follow him. Hot hands on his abdomen and moist skin against his thighs sent his body into early morning alert. After almost twenty years, he should be immune.
But he couldn’t be, not where Stacy was concerned. And that was the fucking problem with needing to let her go, knowing he had to let her go. God, he should let her go.
The doctor had given him his walking papers…
He lay without moving as her hands roamed across his waist, tucked into his shorts, and stilled, resting there as she fell back into sleep as his own frustration grew. He covered her hand with his own, and waited the minute she needed to get back into sleep. He had to get up, get out of the reach of her hands before he gave in and took her right now.
When Hawk finally returned from the office last night, he'd fallen into bed without a thought. Now, five a.m. seemed too damn early. Jeez, so much to do.
He slid a hand under her arm and lifted it, biting back a moan of regret when her soft skin brushed across his hardening flesh. Slowly, he got out of bed.
He took a cold shower, letting the water douse his desire. After dressing for the day in his blue jeans and t-shirt, he hit the kitchen for a quick meal. Oatmeal, not because it was his favorite, because it was supposed to lower cholesterol. He figured he better stay one step ahead of the Grim Reaper. Forty-something had snuck up on him like a damn snake and sunk its venomous teeth into his heart.
“Nate! For the love of God.” Stacy spoke from the doorway.
Oatmeal boiled over and hissed against the electric coils.
His protective streak flared as she came his way. “Watch it.”
Their hands crashed, and the pot jostled, threatening to tip over. He circled her waist with an arm and lifted her away from the stove.
Sweet Jesus, had she been wearing this skimpy, silky night gown to bed?
“Oh,” she cried. “Put me down.”
When he dropped her and reached for a towel, she stumbled against the table.
The pot went into the sink. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he took her hand and opened it. “Did you touch it?”
“No.” As she straightened her spine, the hem of the pink material rose. He cleared his throat instead of groaning like he wanted to and turned away from the temptation to take her right there on the kitchen counter.
There was a time, he wouldn’t have hesitated…
Now, there was only this fear, this godawful uncertainty every time he opened his eyes, that he wouldn’t be able to see her at all. He was going to fail her and lose his business, his ability to be the man he needed to be—for her, for his partners, his children.
“I scheduled us to go deep sea diving today.” Her voice was level, matter-of-fact, like she expected the worst from him and was waiting for it.
He bit his tongue on the urge to make excuses for himself. “Just a few things this morning will wrap up the assignment in Luzon. How about I meet you down at The Shack for lunch?”
“Okay.” Her look challenged him. “I didn't plan this getaway on my own. You were there too. We decided to come here together, send the kids to Germany. Yet I’m by myself after the sun goes down. And alone when I wake up, too.”
“I know. I’m really sorry.”
She shrugged. “I want more, Hawk. I want sex. I don’t care if you have to work late. But, why not wake me in the morning? Or wake me when you get back? I mean…come on. What’s going on?” Her lips pursed, and her eyes turned opaque and narrowed with unconcealed skepticism.
She had been sleeping, and he’d…crashed with the headaches that were coming more frequently. “I am sorry. And I also have to get ahold of Tancredo this morning.”
He gave in and pulled her in, kissed her good, like he’d been wanting to—hot lips against hers, and his hand on her fine, firm ass. He let the kiss linger longer than he had time for, and then he rested his forehead on hers. “I’ll be fast,” he whispered.
Hawk grabbed a banana as he left the kitchen, bumping into the dining table as he hurried by. He hadn't even seen it. The charley horse on his thigh stung like a you-know-what and was definitely going to leave a mark.
The fire of desire and fear and uncertainty in his gut propelled him through the suite and out to the path. The morning sun peeked out from beneath the sea as he sucked in a breath of fresh, salted air. Invigorated by it, he shoved the unwanted emotions from his conscience.
He almost missed the turn to the main building of the resort. Rubbing a hand over his head, Hawk swallowed a curse. The headaches were bad enough. The doctors said he would be fine, but he was starting to think he’d be useless without sight.
***
“Of all the stupid, stupid…” Stacy’s tennis shoes crunched against the familiar, shell-covered path.
He’d freaked out and run—not literally, of course, more like one of their scared barn cats back home. Something was up with that man, and she wanted to know what, wanted to close the gap he was leaving between them.
She’d been married to him long enough to know he had to process, had to think things through for himself, and she’d never seen him like this before. The distance. The job in Luzon, which he was using to escape what was going on here. That’s how it felt anyway.
Stacy bit at her thumbnail as she rounded the turn in the path to The Shack, a small hut at the base of the main road, directly south of town along the shore.
Her heart warmed at the sight of it and of the man standing in the doorway, watching her come down the lane. She waved with a smile, and he stood and came toward the front stoop. Here, in Belize, he reminded her of those fun, lovable characters in the movie South Pacific—beefy, on the short side, tanned. His grin gave him away as the true softy he was—for her anyway.
With the men they fought, no. He was as hard as his reputation warranted.
Stacy took the wooden steps to the porch, two at a time. “Jamie,” she said with a smile.
The Shack played a key role in a number of operations in Central and South America as a place for layover or, heaven forbid, if things went bad, as a place to regroup and assess. Isolated from the main drag by a strip of dense jungle-like terrain, it was the perfect spot for a clandestine meeting and had been used for that purpose a number of times.
“Hola, mi amigo bonita.” Her grin widened. He was fluent in Spanish yet as ginger as an Irishman could get. He stood like a tree with his arms folded over his chest. A former member of Hawk's squad, he was one of their best friends and had stood for them at their wedding. He'd retired from the business three years ago. Now, in his cut-off jeans, muscle t-shirt and bandana, not to mention the Birkenstock footwear, he was the picture of leisure. It made her want to pull on his ponytail, just because.
Jamie tilted his head and studied her. “You need some sun.”
She stepped into his embrace, and wanting to lean, she held off. “That's what I'm here for.”
The comfort of friendship almost broke her guard, but she resisted and extricated herself from his arms. He let her go, a glimmer of concern in his eyes. She kissed his cheek―grateful. “I'm ready to go diving.”
“By yourself, huh?” Jamie crooked a brow, looking back up the path as if he might find Hawk there.
“Hawk is meeting me here. He’s got the assignment in the Philippines. Apparently, it’s had a few glitches. I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as possible.” The doubting part of her wanted to hide anything that reeked of discontent. Would he make it? She didn’t know. It embarrassed her that people might see the weird rift between them. “You know how it is.”
“Hmm.” Jamie nodded his head.
Anger at herself flared against her breastbone. She tamped it down. My God, when had she become ashamed of her feelings?
“There is no hmm, Jamie. It's work as usual.” She walked by him into the storefront. “Come on. Let’s have a drink. If Hawk isn’t here within the half hour, I’ll go out with one of your guides. Who’s on today?”
Jamie slipped in behind the big desk at the front of the shop and flipped through his book. Stacks of underwater gear were piled from wall to wall, and the look said messy and misused. Stacy knew differently. Not an outing went by when all the equipment wasn't checked and double checked. The façade kept away the rich and nagging, and she could appreciate that. This had become a local spot with most of the high-end tourists staying to the north where the big resorts catered the high-maintenance crowd.
“Tom's on this morning. You remember him? Young kid, 'bout your John's age. He's been here since the end of May. He's a decent worker, though he can party a little too hard on the weekends.” Jamie disappeared into the back room and came out with a tank from the replenished stack. “Here, you know what to do. Check everything. Did you bring your knife?”
Darn it. “Actually―”
“Yeah. Everything's fine, isn't it?” Jamie shook his head before he reached into the bottom draw of his desk. “You'll need this. I know you. You like to explore.”
She took the sheathed blade. “I meant to bring mine.”
“Yeah, yeah. We all forget sometimes...” His gaze held hers as if he wanted to say more, He didn't. He wagged his head. “Come on. That drink.”
“Perfect,” she said as the weight of awkwardness fell from her shoulders. “Just what the doctor ordered.”