The plane landed with a thump on the small private runway deep in the heart of Luzon. Six months ago, Hawk had come here to set up the job his men had barely completed two days ago. The mining company, experiencing trouble on its borders, was fighting the growing ring of the drug cartel.
Trouble never completely disappeared in this part of the world.
Julio had shut down Cortez years ago. In one fell swoop obliterated his stronghold of death and destruction. The trouble coming down again could be proof that Cortez was back.
Hawk rubbed his eyes with not-so-steady fingers and thought of his conversation with Stacy. Had they both burned out? Would the bad guys of the world get a free ticket? How long would he be able to fight?
If worse came to worst, and he lost his sight, who would continue the work with Hawk Elite Security? Tancredo?
Blind. He’d refused to even think the word before this moment, and the thought made his throat tighten. “Damn it,” he whispered, clearing his throat.
“Permission to disembark, sir.”
Hawk shook off his morbid thoughts. “Thanks, Logan.”
He pulled his duffel down from an overhead compartment. Inside he found his holster and side arm, which he took a minute to assemble, checking the clip for a full round before snapping it into place and tucking it into the black leather carrier under his left arm.
“Give me forty-five minutes on the inside.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call Tan. Let him know we’ve landed. Give him an update and ask him to coordinate with Barba in Manila.” He hesitated, thinking about Stacy, wanting to check up on her, wanting to give her space. “Tell him to call Stacy, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Actually, make sure he checks the time first.” If there was one thing Hawk had to double and triple check while on business, it was the time zones. “We’re what? Thirteen hours ahead of Belize?”
“Fourteen, sir.”
“Right, okay.” He checked his watch. “Middle of the night there. I’ll call after I see the guys later.” Hawk donned his tan sports jacket, tugging on the hem in a vain effort to pull any of the more obvious wrinkles from existence.
Logan turned to open the door of the Cessna. He’d been in the Philippines for almost ten years. He worked Hawk’s office in town, keeping contact with clients, and he made a few dollars on the side, doing the tourist bit, too. His history ran deep in these parts, digging as deep as World War II, when his grandfather had married a local girl.
He grinned as he lowered the steps to the dirt tarmac. “Dressed to impress, boss. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
Hawk winced. “Don’t remind me.”
The day had reached its high, and with a partly cloudy sky above and rain threatening to drench the mining company, Hawk gave a quick nod to Logan.
He approached the small man just yards away and held out his hand in greeting. “Min, how are you?”
After a quick shake of his hand, Min nodded and gestured for Hawk to follow. “Things have been better, my friend. I lost three men in the last week. An explosion in one of the side shafts.” He shook his head. “Come, I will explain and we will talk about how your security system has failed.”
###
He called Malcolm who would remotely update the computer systems and double check for any weak points. Most of the issues were territorial. And though Hawk wanted to be able to protect Min from every contingency, the truth was that he’d have to be a psychic.
He suggested added measures. And he’d shown Min exactly what he would do if it was his company. More men along the edge of the property for protection. Cameras at strategic vantage points…and finally, if expenses weren’t an issue, he’d draw up an alarm system to warn of intruders. Systems in place to keep the dangers at bay. Motion detectors, heat sensors. The works. Or part of the works.
The why of the problems bugged Hawk the most, though. Were they experiencing these little glitches because of Cortez? If so, if they took out Cortez, would the problems also disappear?
Late into the evening after he’d left Min’s and traveled south to Manila, he couldn’t get that thought out of his head. He anticipated trouble when they were dealing with drug lords, warlords, kidnappers, or hostages. Like the incident ten years ago, sometimes shit just happened.
Hawk rubbed a hand over his chest as he rounded a corner on his walk. The embassy was closed for the day, but he’d been able to talk on the phone with his team. Everyone was in good spirits, unconcerned by their situation. It was better than being at the mercy of the local jurisdiction, better than being dead.
A block from his lodgings, he stopped for dinner at a small, familiar restaurant. One of his favorite places to eat. Comfort food to help him forget that what he really wanted was to see Stacy. Talk things out with her.
Even after she’d stepped back from active duty in the company, he’d had her to bounce things off of. It seemed like days since he’d seen or talked to Stacy. He just needed the time to figure out what the heck to do next, so he pulled his phone from his pocket. And as he waited for his meal, he called her.
“Hey,” she spoke in that sleep-heavy voice, and he imagined her in their bed, rolling over, getting comfortable again after reaching for her phone. “How was your flight?”
He relaxed at the small talk. “Good. No mishaps. Got in earlier today and went straight to Min’s.”
“Mmm, good. Get any answers yet?”
He told her about the mining incidents, and the boundary trouble the company was having. About how he hadn’t made it to Manila in time to get the guys from the embassy. “I’m hoping they have a better story to tell. Matt hinted there was more to the story than met the eye. He didn’t want to talk over the phone. We’re all going to head over to Julio’s tomorrow. Do a debriefing and get the scoop.”
He stopped talking and met with silence. “Stacy?”
“I’m here.” She sounded barely there, sleepy.
Hawk cleared his throat. “I’m sorry it’s so early.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad you called.” He heard the muffled sound of her moving, the rustle of the sheets and bedspread. And he ached like a bolt of lightning for her. Her skin, her hands, all of it. Her voice. Great timing, Hawkins.
“What time is it there?”
The wanting hour, apparently. “Just seven. I’m having dinner.”
“Five here.” She laughed. “Tell me, how’s the day going to be? Should I carry my rabbit’s foot? Avoid ladders? Knock on wood?”
“You’re going to have a great day, babe.”
“Yeah. Miss you, though.”
Hawk’s waiter came and set out his food.
His stomach growled. “I better go. My dinner is here.”
“Okay, I’m going to get up and run, since I’m up anyway. Thanks for calling.”
“Sure. Be careful, Stacy.”
“You betcha.”
He hung up with some hesitation—stupid—then texted her. I love you. Was it so hard to say I love you with words? Why was it so easy to send a message? It didn’t really mean as much that way, did it?
He did love her.
He worried over her.
Even when the thought of never seeing her again sent panic through him, he wanted her to be happy as well. He just wasn’t sure how to do that anymore.
Luv you too, she answered back and that’s when it hit him…texting and speaking were not the same thing at all. He wanted to hear those words from her sweet mouth. He wanted to go back to the times when love and loving seemed second nature.
With his eyes and her desire to be in the line of danger…
He wished he could convince her to stay home. He had the business covered.
That was his job. Wasn’t it enough?
He ate, barely tasting it, and finished with a cup of tea before leaving. The sunset on the Manila Bay as he walked down Roxas Boulevard and the palm trees, tall above his head, lining the street, lent the city that special tropical paradise feel.
Yet it was still a city, full of unknowns, full of dangers, reminding him of what he’d left behind in the smaller, tropical town of Punta Gorda. Like his wife and familiarity.
Slowing, he passed in front of the embassy. In the circular drive, just north of the front door where there was a small expanse of grass, Hawk saw the man he was looking for. He nodded once, and when Malcolm nodded back, Hawk took the path over to the grassy area.
Malcolm took a drag from his cigarette and blew smoke over his shoulder as Hawk approached.
“You need to quit, Mal.”
“It helps me think, clears my head.” Malcolm flicked the ash. “Besides, I’m not much for inhaling.”
Hawk laughed. “Tell me what you know.”
His computer expert puffed again. “John called this morning with word from his FBI source. It’s Cortez like you thought. See, when we left him, things didn’t end so well for Cortez. He had people on the inside turn on him. People are turning up dead. His head of security was found outside of Mexico City. Drug overdose. No one went out of their way for the scumbag. Mexico authorities chalked it up at face value.”
“But?”
“There’s more. The helo team that came in to extract us?”
“Oh, no—”
“They ran into trouble about two months ago. Went down over the sea between here and the island of Mindoro.”
“Who is investigating?”
“Local police did a cursory investigation and found sabotage but no motive. The investigation went cold.”
Hawk scratched at his five o’clock shadow. “Revenge?”
“It was years before we even knew Cortez was still alive. Now all of his last-known associates are mysteriously dying?”
The embassy door opened and three men walked out, a quiet discussion floating just above a whisper to where he and Malcolm stood. Hawk sighed.
“I should get back in before my guard gets suspicious.”
“You’re sure everyone’s okay?”
With a nod, Malcolm glanced down the street. “Everyone’s just nervous we’ll do something stupid, create an international incident. They’re keeping close watch on us. We’ll be out of here by ten hundred hours. Flight at twelve forty-five.”
“Good. Good.”
Malcolm hesitated, taking a last puff and tapping the cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe. His eyes squinted against the darkening orange blaze of the sky before he gave Hawk his startlingly direct gaze. “Jamie says there’s trouble in Belize.”
“Does he?”
“He does.”
“I don’t know what we have, Mal,” Hawk admitted.
“You and Stacy okay?”
He frowned. If the men noticed and were worried… “Sure. What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s not like the team hasn’t noticed things are off between you two.”
Hawk almost laughed. “Wait. Is this an intervention or something?”
“No.” A flush rose on Mal’s neck. “Jesus, no. Not really. I mean—we’re all just worried. You two are Hawk Elite. One with the other. If you guys can’t—”
“We can.”
Malcolm cleared his throat. “Well, if you need anything—”
“We’re good, Malcolm. I promise.” Shit. Was he lying? Was it any of Malcolm’s damn business? Some days it seemed like hid life had a fat bullseye painted on it. With his vision going, that target was getting bigger. He hated, more than anything, that his job put his family on the line. And if his men were worried about what was going on...
It was time to tell them.
But first, he had to tell Stacy.