The Hunter

by Gennita Low

  Thomas and his partner had arrived half an hour ago, slipping in between the peacekeepers and curious foreigners, and Hawk knew they had seen him. They had agreed not to meet up immediately, since that might call attention to them, so they were milling around, taking in the whole rowdy atmosphere. Thank God they had the sense to dress in similar colors as the younger men around them. The new visitors in town were good timing, since all these new faces were an excellent cover for the reporters.

  “Hey, man, any recommendations?” another young man addressed Hawk. He smelled of alcohol, his eyes bright with anticipation. “I’ve seen you here before. You must like it here.”

  “Yeah,” Hawk said noncommittally.

  “So, who do you like screwing in here? My favorite’s”—he snapped his fingers, trying to remember—“the little blonde, what’s her name. You know, the one with that tattoo. Man, does she have a clever mouth. Why, the last time she…”

  Hawk stared stonily as the man went into lurid details about his last visit. He had stopped listening; the physical description was too close to Amber’s for comfort. Familiar anger rose like bile as he contemplated bashing in the man’s face, besides rendering other parts of his body incapable of sexual function for the rest of his life. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against one of the giant beams that supported the building.

  “Yeah,” Hawk repeated.

  The young man seemed intent in getting injured. “And then there’s that young thing. She’s got the biggest boobs for a fourteen-year-old, man.” He demonstrated the size lewdly. “Mama mia, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I first saw them. No way could they be real, you know? Wonder where they found her. Can’t understand a word she says. The last time they had her in some contest in the pink room, or whatever they called it. She was totally drugged out and having the time of her life, I tell ya. I’ve never seen such a horny girl, doing so many at the same time.”

  That was it. He was going to kill the guy any moment now. “I suppose you could tell she was fourteen and horny,” Hawk said.

  “They’re in here every night, parading in those nighties. Got to be horny.”

  “Tell me, son, how old are you?”

  “I turned twenty-one last week,” the man said proudly.

  So he wasn’t young enough to really be Hawk’s son, but these last few months seemed to have added decades to Hawk’s age. “You aren’t too far away from being fourteen,” he said, stabbing him with a direct stare. “You think it’s normal for fourteen-year-olds to run around among adults night in and night out and be horny, huh?”

  There was a slight reddening in the other man’s face as Hawk continued to hold his gaze. “Well, they’re whores.”

  “Ah. And whores get horny all the time, right?”

  “Well, no. Man, what’s it with you? It’s just the way it is around here. You know, they must need the money and all that. Why, I give them presents all the time. They like baubles, you know? Don’t you give your favorite girls anything? They treat you better, I swear, give you more personal attention than just lie there with their legs—Hey!”

  Hawk had lifted him off the flat of his feet, pulled him close enough that he could whisper into his ear. “One of these days, boy, if you end up in prison somewhere and you get the attention of some of the older inmates in there, remember one thing. It’s just the way it is around those places. Nothing wrong with a group of men and you in the middle without a single one of them caring what language you’re speaking, hmm? And don’t forget the baubles. You’ll collect quite a few in there, too, or so I’ve heard.”

  Hawk casually dropped him back on his feet. He had done everything in one smooth motion, as if he had something private to share with a friend, which he did. His young man’s face had lost some color. Good. Maybe this one actually had some brain cells left.

  He could still feel the fury roiling unabated inside. He’d better walk away before he actually beat up someone. Maybe talk to Thomas now or get some fresh air. Something.

  He caught the reporter’s eye and started to make his way toward him. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. It was one of Dilaver’s men.

  “Hey, you’re wanted at Dilaver’s table. He wants you to meet someone.”

  “Okay.”

  Dilaver had his own table near the back exit, usually surrounded by his guards. A quick call from any informant that a raid was coming and he would be the first out of there, leaving the scene for his men to clear out.

  “Hawk, this is my aunt, Greta. She’s just arrived.”

  Hawk turned to look at the woman sitting across from Dilaver. She was fiftyish, with short stylish brown hair. Her gaze was narrowed, sharp.

  “Same build and dark looks. That’s not him, but he looks very similar to Steve McMillan,” she said in excellent American English. “He’s an agent, Dragan. Take him. Alive.”

  Adrenaline rocketed through Hawk’s system as Greta’s words registered. He had no idea who she was, but somehow she had seen through his cover. All the background action receded as Dilaver’s men rushed at him. Hawk crouched into a fighting stance. No time to run.

  18

  Amber smiled as she combed her hair. The image in the mirror showed she had that silly small secretive grin of a woman who had been having naughty thoughts about her lover. She could hear Lily’s mocking voice now. She hadn’t told her friend about waking up with Hawk’s little piece of body jewelry in her hand when she had called earlier. Nipple rings weren’t on the Wretched Wench List, she would say.

  She knew why he had left it with her. He wanted her to think about him while he was away. She still didn’t understand why the sight of it on him made her insides clench up. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen body piercings before, but there was just something sexy about Hawk wearing it. It was totally so out of character for a macho guy, but everything about Hawk had been a surprise to her so far.

  A very pleasant surprise. The more she got to know him, the more intrigued she became. He wasn’t just a very good-looking man; from their conversations, she had found out he was also very quick-thinking and intellectual when he wanted to be. He could talk about anything, from opera to politics to philosophy. He had even read all her favorite books in their original languages. She suspected that it was a side of him that he didn’t show to many people.

  Everything was a contradiction. He opened doors for her, was very protective about women. He had all the young girls and even the two housekeepers in the safe houses eating out of his hand by treating them with unexpected gentle respect that Amber found very charming. She discovered, just by watching him interacting with her girls, that he was quite a gentleman to all women, and irregardless of age, they all responded with typical feminine flirtatiousness.

  Yet she also knew he could take care of a problem with lightning-fast decisiveness. The way he had saved Lily’s ass when her mercenary was in the line of fire. Tatiana, whom he had treated with such utmost care that the young girl had clung to him like she had known him all her life. Amber had seen him in action and knew, from his line of work, that he had taken lives before and that behind that smooth, teasing façade was a very complicated and at times ruthless man. There was something very sexy about a quiet, very gentlemanly male who had a very dangerous air about him.

  Amber sighed, her smile fading a little. She should be afraid, really. She was in danger of falling for the man. She was too happy when he was around. Too turned on at the sight of him. Thinking of him too much when she was alone. Wanting to do things with him too much. Too everything, in fact. This was probably what was bothering Lily and had sort of bruised their friendship. She hadn’t spent as much time with her friend as she usually did.

  Logic told her that this happened in relationships, especially between good friends. A third one who came in always caused some friction because sharing was involved, no matter what the gender. She hoped Lily and Brad had worked out their feelings for each other. Then maybe her friend wouldn
’t feel so angry and left out.

  She checked the time. It was too early to do anything, but she couldn’t fall back asleep. Hawk hadn’t left any goodnight notes on the instant messenger program, so he must either still be at the kafena or partying with Dilaver somewhere. A shiver of apprehension ran through her. She wondered whether he had gotten hold of Thomas and helped him secure a private interview. It was a risky thing for Hawk to do, but he had assured her that he would be fine. Still, she felt uneasy about it. What if the girl reported it to her “Mama”? It wasn’t unusual for the girls to tattletale on each other just so they could gain some favors.

  She heard the phone extension ringing when she came out of the bathroom. It couldn’t be Lily….

  “Amber? It’s me, Brad.”

  “What’s the matter?” She was suddenly wide awake. He would never call her at this hour. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Hawk. I just got a call from Thomas. Something’s happened.”

  Hawk struggled as they bound him up with ropes. He had taken down the first wave of Dilaver’s men coming at him. They had picked up whatever was close by—bottles, chairs, anything long and deadly—trying to overpower him amid the confused customers. Surrounded, he had fought back, dodging the weapons hurled and swung at him as he tried to find a way out the front. Then someone fired a shot and bedlam ensued.

  Fights broke out among groups of men, some of whom were peacekeepers. Hawk couldn’t really tell; he was too busy avoiding being bashed in the head.

  Screaming girls. A popping sound to his left. He had pushed a young woman out of the way before what felt like five hundred pounds fell on top of him. He fought against the three or four men pounding on him till he couldn’t move anymore.

  Someone turned him over. A fist landed a punch on his jaw. Another.

  Amber pulled on her shoes, her mind racing a hundred miles an hour. She must keep calm. She had never felt so afraid for someone in her whole life. She must keep calm. Hawk had been compromised somehow, and not by Thomas, at least not from what Brad told her.

  She snatched from the bed the black lycra hood that she used to cover her head and face and stuffed it into the little tool bag attached to her utility belt. Her mind quickly went through the list of things she might have forgotten. There wasn’t any time to double-check.

  When he’d called, Brad had been on the way to the department from his house. She could hear his attached emergency siren in the background while he gave her a rundown of the night’s events. Apparently Thomas and his friend had been already there and they had seen Hawk milling around, talking to some people. They had moved around for an hour or two, secretly photographing the place, taking notes. Hawk had been heading in their direction when someone tapped him on the shoulder and he had changed course.

  From that point on, Thomas wasn’t sure what actually happened. Dilaver had been there. At least, he thought he was, based on the photographs Brad had provided. Hawk was at some big table and then hell broke loose. All of a sudden, a bunch of men started rushing at Hawk with weapons.

  “It didn’t seem like they wanted to kill him, if that’s any comfort,” Brad had said.

  No, that wasn’t much of a comfort. She glanced at her clock on the way out. Time was of the essence.

  Brad was taking his men to the kafena. A raid. That was all he could do. But Thomas had reported that Hawk had been dragged out the back door and taken somewhere. So raiding the brothel wasn’t going to save Hawk.

  “Thomas said Hawk fought like no one he’d ever seen. Took down a whole bunch of them with his bare hands. But the girls and customers around impeded his ability to escape or use some other means of saving himself. Where could they have taken him?”

  “To Dilaver’s compound just at the edge of town,” Amber had replied grimly. “Can you send a force there?”

  “Are you sure? Thomas said they went out the back way. Is there another building behind there that he could use to interrogate Hawk?”

  There was, but Amber didn’t think Dilaver would take Hawk there. “It’s possible,” she had said, “but I just have a feeling Dilaver would choose his compound. I could be wrong.”

  “I’m going to that building behind the kafena, since it’s in town and closest to us. It’s the most likely place, anyway. It’ll look like a standard raid in the reports. If I can’t find him there, I’ll direct a group of my men to the compound, but Amber, it’s going to take time, with all of Dilaver’s guards. Be patient, okay?”

  That was why she was going off to the compound. Dilaver needed time to interrogate Hawk and his heavily guarded place would give him a lot more security. She knew she couldn’t tell Brad what her plans were. Besides, if he went there and engaged Dilaver in a firefight, Hawk might be used as a hostage, or worse, be killed off. She felt sick to her stomach at the thought.

  “All right,” she had lied.

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Be careful.”

  She had called Lily, but there was no answer. Left a quick message about her plans. No time to wait for her anyway. She had to save Hawk somehow.

  “Stay alive, Hot Stuff,” she muttered, backing the car out of the driveway, tires squealing.

  Coming to consciousness after being beaten up was a very nasty experience. Hawk felt like a train had run over him. The back of his head throbbed violently and he swallowed the nausea rising in his throat.

  Eyes closed, he assessed his situation. Sitting slumped over in the most uncomfortable way. Hands and feet secured tightly. He heard the familiar rumbling of a car. Okay, they were taking him somewhere. Back to the compound, he guessed.

  He had escaped death many times before, but he was aware that he might not be so lucky this time. He had been outnumbered back there. The blows to his body and face took their toll after a while, and something had come down hard on his head during the fight.

  That was the last thing Hawk remembered. He didn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t worried about a concussion. There were worse things coming up in his immediate future. Right now, lying here inside Dilaver’s vehicle, he could buy a little bit of time by pretending to still be out of it. Not that any good ideas were floating in his addled brain at the moment.

  Death. Well, that was one thing he could deal with. The part between now and his demise was what he was worried about. Dilaver would want to extract information from him in the most painful ways available and Hawk didn’t need his imagination. He had seen some of the thug’s methods with his very own eyes.

  Hell, the Slav cut off fingers from a whole gang just to make a point. Hawk flexed his own. Fuck. He hoped he wouldn’t die before sticking the middle one in the air at Dilaver. If it was still attached to him by that time.

  He wasn’t going to think about death. That felt like giving up already and that wasn’t how he had been trained. As long as he was breathing, there was always a chance. The sound of his name penetrated the fuzzy haze of his thoughts and he struggled to concentrate on the conversation in the vehicle. To his surprise, it was in English, not Serbian.

  “Are you sure, Aunt Greta? He’s been a good friend.”

  “Of course I’m sure.” That was the voice belonging to the woman at the table. She sounded very American. “There was a Steve McMillan in the States who came in and out of the office I was in who looked like this man. Unmistakable—tall, dark, good-looking, just like him. Same last name, Dragan. Coincidence?”

  “No.”

  “That Steve was a plant by a very powerful Navy admiral at the task force I worked in. This Hawk is probably a plant, too.”

  “But why me? The Americans and I have a deal!”

  “Dragan, you’re an illegal arms dealer. Never forget that you’re both using each other.”

  “I don’t need your advice about how to deal with the Americans.”

  “Oh, stop acting like the little nephew I haven’t seen for fifteen years. Think about it. I didn’t spend ten years in the States and not understand its system. The CI
A has an agenda politically, so it uses you to further it. In the meantime, there are departments inside the CIA as well as other agencies who are being ordered to fight people like you. Do you see the contradiction?”

  Hawk heard Dilaver’s snort. “I don’t care about their fucked-up system as long as I get to profit from it.”

  “Then you’ll listen to me in this one thing, my dear nephew, if you want a huge sum of money. You owe me.”

  “Yes, veza. You got it. You have made me very rich and powerful around here by picking me as the CIA go-to guy, or as Hawk would call me, a gofer.” Dilaver snorted again.

  Hawk suddenly understood why Dilaver was always practicing his English and improving his knowledge of American colloquialism. He wanted to speak like a native with his aunt.

  “There’s a reason for it. I need to talk to you later about a shipment of weapons we sent your way. I don’t want it for sale, Dragan. It’s a very special weapon I’m looking for.” There was a short pause. “I know that’s probably what your friend Hawk’s after.”

  “If you know already, why don’t we just kill him?”

  “Because I don’t know what the weapon looks like and exactly which shipment in which it was sent out. Rather than wait for my contact, who’s been missing now that his partner’s in prison, Hawk can provide us with that information. You can have your fun with him, but you make sure in the end he can at least draw a picture of the weapon.”

  “With pleasure.”

  Hawk flexed his fingers again. Well, on the bright side, he would be able to flip that middle finger before he died.