She supposed she could try one of the more exotic-looking weapons. The chained wooden clubs seemed promising. She’d knocked Liam out and he’d survived. She could do the same to anyone who broke in. All she had to do was swing the clubs around a few times.
And brandish them uselessly while the enemy closed in.
“Face it. You’re hopelessly ill prepared for this kind of thing.” Miranda paced to the bedroom door, thought about opening it and changed her mind. Somehow having it closed and locked made her feel marginally safer. Which wasn’t nearly safe enough. She imagined someone breaking down the door, rushing toward the room where she was hiding. Worse, imagined Hawke bloodied and dying, unable to return. Unable to ask for help.
“What am I supposed to do? Wait all day? All night? Wait a week?” The words were a prayer, one she could only hope God would answer in a way that she could understand rather than in the puzzling bits and pieces He most often seemed to use.
A stab of guilt went through her at the thought. The puzzles were hers, not God’s. Even when the answers seemed clear, Miranda tended to doubt them. She’d spent five months deciding to break up with her high school boyfriend even though every one of her friends had been worried and was urging her to do so. Two years later, a year after becoming a Christian, she’d dated a man she’d met at the college bookstore. For six months she’d wondered at the strange feeling she had that the relationship wasn’t what it seemed. It had taken running into Stan and his wife to show Miranda just how wrong the relationship was.
She’d even hesitated when it came to taking on responsibility for Justin, sure that she should finish her education first. Over and over again, God had brought people into her life, men and women with autistic children. Yet Miranda had refused to see them for what they were—clear direction and assurance that the course she was hesitating to take was the right one.
Only when Lauren had asked her to visit a facility where she planned to enroll Justin, did Miranda finally commit to God’s plan. It had almost been too late, the paperwork all but signed.
Miranda didn’t want to make the same mistake again. This time she wanted things to be different, wanted to listen to the soundless voice that spoke to her soul.
And right now, it was saying stay. Give Hawke more time. Trust that he’d return. More, trust that God was with her. That He was in control.
“Okay.” Miranda whispered the words as she shoved aside the weapons she’d spread out on the bed and flopped down on the comforter. Her muscles were tight, her mind still racing, but she forced back the panic and listened to the silence. Deep. Placid. Devoid of danger.
For now she was safe.
That would just have to be enough.
Chapter Ten
“I’ve got it.” David Sanchat shoved back from his desk and stood, his sallow skin pale, his dark eyes meeting Hawke’s then shooting away. It hadn’t been hard to find the man—Hawke had been keeping tabs on him for years and knew he’d taken a job as a professor at a university, knew he’d moved into a suburb just outside of Bangkok. It had been even less difficult to convince Sanchat to help. Having information that could destroy a man tended to make him very cooperative.
And the cooperation of a computer genius was exactly what Hawke needed.
He strode over to the computer screen, read the list of agents and the information about their locations. It was what he’d been hoping for—Jack McKenzie’s address there for the taking. “Print it out for me.”
“You know they’re going to trace this back to me, right? A guy can’t hack into the DEA’s mainframe without getting caught.” David’s voice shook, his forehead beaded with sweat.
“That’s not my problem.”
“I could lose my job.”
“Still not my problem.”
“You’re a cold son of—”
“And you paid for your party years acting as a courier for the Wa. Which do you think is worse?”
“What I did twelve years ago shouldn’t matter. I’m a professor. A family man. A good citizen. And have been for a long time.”
“The past can’t be changed. The good we do can never pay for the sins we’ve committed. I think you know that.” Hawke grabbed the printout from David’s hand.
“This isn’t about what I know or don’t know. It’s about you taking the law into your own hands. If the law wanted me, I would have been in jail a long time ago.”
“I’m not taking the law into my own hands. I’m just helping it along. I believe in justice and that we all pay for our crimes eventually. This is your time to pay.”
“Justice would mean both of us going to jail for the rest of our lives. Hacking into a U.S. government computer system—”
“You hacked into something that’s open to DEA employees. Just a directory of names and contact information. Nothing top secret.”
“That won’t matter to the DEA. I’ll lose everything for this.” David collapsed into his computer chair, leaned his head against his hands. “Don’t you think I regret what I did? I was young and stupid. My father was a diplomat. I traveled all over the world with him. Passing information from one place to another seemed like an easy way to make a few bucks.”
“Your morality came too late for some. People die every day from drug overdoses or at the hands of the men who paid you.”
“If I could change what I did, I would. I can’t, so all that’s left is to live the best life I can now.” The words were spoken quietly and Hawke believed them. As much as he despised what Sanchat had done, he knew Sanchat’s involvement with the Wa had ended years ago. Since then, the college professor had stayed out of trouble, devoting himself to his job and his family.
“When they come to question you, tell them I forced you to do this for me. Whatever else you choose to tell them is for you to decide.”
“Listen, do you need anything else? Money? A ride?”
The questions caught Hawke by surprise and he hesitated with his hand on the office door. “Aren’t you already in enough trouble?”
“Yeah, so I guess a little more isn’t going to hurt.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ve got everything I need.”
“There’ll be security guards near the front entrance of the building. You’ll be better off going up to the roof and down the fire escape.”
Hawke nodded and stepped out into the corridor, the quiet university closing in around him as he moved toward the stairwell, the need to hurry thrumming through him. He’d been away from the apartment for six hours. The time it had taken for Sanchat to access the DEA directory would only be worth it if Miranda was still waiting for him when he returned. He hoped she was. Sticking around Bangkok wasn’t part of his plan. Neither was losing the woman who’d saved his life. If push came to shove, he’d comb the city until he found Miranda, but every minute he spent doing that was a minute his brother was in the enemy’s hands.
It took only minutes to access the roof and descend to the street below. He moved along the sidewalk with purpose, but didn’t rush, not wanting to call attention to himself. Bangkok never slept and the sounds of its nightlife drifted on humid night air, a pulsing beat that Hawke was all too familiar with. In years past, he’d traveled Bangkok’s underworld, searching out those dealing in drugs and human flesh. Much of the money that passed hands there eventually made its way into the Wa’s coffers. One name, one location, one exchange of money for drugs at a time, Hawke had provided information to the authorities that had chopped off the Wa’s tail time and time again. The problem was, like many cold-blooded lizards, the Wa’s tail just kept growing back.
And eventually Hawke realized that he was banging his head against a brick wall, that revenge would never be his for the taking
, that justice would be meted out, just not by his hands or his power, that he was wasting his time, wasting his life on a futile effort that might lead his brother into the same cesspool of human depravity Hawke had been wading through.
He’d hoped living outside of Thailand would open doors to something different. That perhaps breaking his ties with his mother country was what was needed to end the journey he’d started after his family’s murder. He’d wanted a new life. New goals. A fresh start.
Now, all he wanted was to find his brother and clear his name.
And keep Miranda safe.
An image flashed through his mind—dark hair, pale skin, freckles. Eyes the deep green of spring, new life and promises. As much as Hawke might be due to pay for some of the wrong he’d done, Miranda deserved to be home safe. He had every intention of getting her there.
The apartment building was straight ahead, a few windows illuminated. Most dark. Hawke entered silently, climbing the stairs two at a time, a sense of urgency spurring him on.
The apartment door was closed and locked, the lights in each room turned off. Hawke strode down the hall, scanning the floor for signs of light spilling from beneath the bedroom door. There were none. He used his key to unlock the door, pulling it open as he formulated a plan to find Miranda if she’d left.
He stepped into the room, flicked on the light, and froze, his mouth curving as he caught sight of the woman who’d been so much on his mind the last few hours. She lay sleeping, hair curling wildly around her face, her body drowning in a black T-shirt and baggy cargo-style jeans. Weapons were piled on the bed around her—knives, the unloaded guns he kept in the closet, pepper spray, ammo. A nunchaku was clutched in her hand as if she’d thought holding it while she slept would keep danger at bay.
Hawke strode across the room, touched her shoulder. “Miranda?”
She came up fast, the nunchaku still in her hand, her pulse beating wildly in the hollow of her throat. “You’re back.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t return?”
“I was beginning to wonder.” Her cheeks were pink from sleep, her eyes misty green. The circles under them looked darker than when Hawke had left, as if sleep had only made her more tired.
He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, felt the silky softness of it. “I told you I’d be back.”
“Yeah, I just wasn’t sure I believed you.” Her lips curved, but there was no smile in her eyes.
“You can always believe me, babe.” He pulled the nunchaku from her hands, his tense muscles relaxing for the first time in hours. “Were you planning to use this as a weapon?”
“Only if I needed to.”
“The gun might have been a better idea.”
“I don’t know how to use one.” To Hawke’s surprise, her voice broke on the words and she turned away, her shoulders stiff, something broken and lonely in her stance.
He reached for her hand, tugging her back toward him and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been scared to death.”
“You were safe here.” He stroked her back, inhaling the sent of shampoo and soap. She’d taken a shower, but apples and cinnamon still seemed to hover in the air around her. Memory or reality, Hawke didn’t know.
Her hands trembled as she slipped them under his pack and leaned back to look into his face. “I know. It was you I was scared for.”
The sincerity in her eyes, the worry there, melted into Hawke’s heart, touching something he hadn’t allowed anyone near for a very long time.
He knew he should step back, put distance between them, but found himself pulling her closer instead. She fit perfectly, her head just under his chin, her hair soft against the skin of his throat. He wanted to stay there forever, absorbing the sweet artlessness of her embrace.
But they didn’t have forever. Just moments, ticking by one after another while his brother remained in the hands of men who would stop at nothing to achieve their goals.
He loosened his hold, his hands lingering at the small of Miranda’s back. “You didn’t need to worry about me. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
She shrugged, her hands fisted in his shirt, her knuckles warm through the material. “I’ll try to remember that next time.”
He wanted to tell her there wouldn’t be a next time, but couldn’t. They had a long journey ahead of them. Ten hours to Chiang Mai. Then on from there to Mae Hong Son. Anything could happen and probably would. His arms tightened around Miranda for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to step back. “We need to get moving. We’ve got a long way to go tonight.”
“Where are we headed?” She stared up into his eyes, searching for something Hawke doubted she’d find. Honor, trustworthiness. Things he’d never been able to find in himself. At least not in the past ten years.
“Chiang Mai.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s north of here. About ten hours by road.” He grabbed a machete from the bed, picked up a can of pepper spray. Anything to keep his hands busy, his mind off what it felt like to hold Miranda in his arms—as if she belonged there, as if they’d been together a lifetime rather than a few short days.
She picked up the Uzi Hawke had confiscated from a drug runner across the border in Myanmar, holding it gingerly as if afraid it might go off in her hands.
“It’s not loaded, babe.”
“I wasn’t sure. I don’t have much experience with weapons. All I know is that you have a lot of them.”
“I’ve collected them from some men who didn’t need them anymore.”
“That sounds… .sinister.”
“Most of them went to jail. Drug runners. Couriers. Men and women determined to spread the drug trade to every neighborhood and community in the world.”
“That’s what you do, then? Go after drug dealers?”
“What I do is run an export company in Bangkok. It’s a family business. One my brother and I inherited after my father died. We buy handcrafted goods from the hill tribes up north and send them all over the world.”
“Then how—”
“The story about how the rest of this came about is too long to tell now.”
She opened her mouth, shut it again and shook her head. “Okay. I won’t ask. It’s none of my business anyway. Let’s go.”
She started away, but Hawke grabbed her arm, tugging her back around to face him. “I never said it wasn’t your business. You deserve answers. I just can’t give them now. We’ve got a long way to go and we’ve got a lot of people who’d like to stop us before we get there.”
“That’s an easy excuse, Hawke. I’ve been pulled into a situation I didn’t ask to be in. I don’t understand half of what or who is involved. I don’t like not being in control. I don’t like not having my life in my own hands.”
“And I don’t like talking about my past. It’s not something that’s easy to share.” He bit out the words, not wanting to give her even that, but knowing she deserved at least some of the truth.
“I guess that’s something I do understand.”
With that, she strode from the room. This time, Hawke let her go. There was nothing he could say, nothing he should say. Despite the heartache she’d suffered, Miranda had spent her life cut off from the uglier side of humanity. She didn’t understand the darkness that Hawke walked through every day.
Or maybe she did. One way or another, he didn’t want to taint her with the shadows that lived in his soul. That meant keeping his distance and that’s exactly what he intended to do.
He put away the last of the weapons, grabbed more money from the safe in the closet, then left the room, closing and locking it behind him.
Miranda was waiting by the front door to the
apartment, looking more like a child playing dress up than a grown woman. The hem of the T-shirt she’d borrowed fell to her thighs and the cuffs of the jeans bagged around her ankles. The whole outfit was way too long and cumbersome for the journey, but there was nothing Hawke could do about it now.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. What will we do once we get to Chiang Mai?” Her eyes had flecks of gold and brown and seemed to change color as her emotion changed. First mossy green with fatigue. Then bright green with frustration. Now hazel with uncertainty.
“Have a little talk with my boss. First, though, we’ve got to get some food and a ride.”
“I’m not hungry. Let’s just go.”
“Hungry or not, you need to eat.” He pulled off his pack, grabbing fruit that he’d purchased from a vendor several hours before. “I’ve got bananas and rambutan. Which do you want?”
“I’ve only ever heard of the first, so I guess I’ll have that.”
“Live a little. Try something new.” He peeled the round, spiny red fruit as they walked down stairs to the second floor, handing her the slick white meat inside.
Miranda took the fruit Hawke offered her, the slippery flesh silky in her hands. It had the sweetness of a grape and a texture slightly thicker than one. Her stomach rumbled in thanksgiving as she took another bite. “It’s good.”
“I thought you’d like it. Eat another.” Hawke handed her a second peeled fruit, then used a key to unlock the door at the second floor landing, grabbing her hand and pulling her inside.
Unlike the rest of the building, this area was well kept, the walls freshly painted, the carpet thick and new looking. A garlicky aroma filled the air, making Miranda’s already rumbling stomach growl in acknowledgment.
She pressed a hand against the sudden, gnawing ache of hunger and hurried behind Hawke. He bypassed the first and second apartment doors, rapping hard on the third. It opened immediately, a small, wizened man staring out at them.
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