“Is there anything you can’t do?” She panted the words out, her arms burning from the effort it took to hold her weight.
“I can’t jump eight feet to the ground and I can’t drop from this spot until you do.”
He had a point. Even if he hadn’t, Miranda’s fingers were slipping from the leather. She closed her eyes, released her hold and dropped, tumbling onto her backside in the fragrant grass and moist earth.
Seconds later, Hawke landed next to her, dropping down in a crouch, his eyes searching her face.
“Good job, babe. You okay?” His lips touched her ear as he spoke, the warmth of it shivering along her nerves.
“Right as rain.” Even if she was trembling from head to toe. She hadn’t broken her neck and that was definitely something to be thankful for.
Hawke stared her down for a moment, then stood, pulling her to her feet. “Good. Come on. McKenzie’s house is number 1492.”
“What if he’s not home?”
“Then we go in and take a look around.”
“That’s illegal.”
“So is selling information to drug dealers. So is murder.”
“Do you really think he’s responsible?”
“I don’t know, but I plan to find out.”
“Hawke—”
“You need to stop worrying so much. It’s bad for your health.”
“So is stress and I’ve been under a tremendous amount of that ever since I met you.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure to do something relaxing and fun when this is over.” He didn’t say if it was over, but Miranda was thinking it as Hawke tugged her to the edge of a stucco-sided house. “Here’s what I want you to do. Walk around to the front of this house and take a look at the number.”
“Me?”
“I’d do it, but you’re much more innocuous looking.”
He was right, and Miranda wasn’t even going to try to convince him otherwise. No one would look at her and see a threat. Hawke, on the other hand, was six foot two of pure trouble.
She took a deep breath, prayed she wouldn’t be spotted and stepped around the side of the house.
Chapter Twelve
Early morning light washed the world in dull color as Miranda moved across the front yard, the flowers, trees and buildings taking on a sepia tone. Sodden grass squished beneath her feet, the scent of wet earth pungent and full. The community lay silent and sleeping, doors closed, shades drawn, unsuspecting, unaware. All Miranda had to do was get the house number and get back to Hawke’s side. Easy.
Except she couldn’t see a house number. Not on the door. Not on the mailbox. Not anywhere obvious.
“It’s got to be somewhere.” She muttered the words, her heart pumping so fast and so loud, she was sure it would wake the entire neighborhood.
“Can I help you, miss?” a deep voice called from somewhere behind her, and Miranda spun to face the speaker, hoping she didn’t look as terrified as she felt.
The man was tall, skinny and wearing a crisp brown uniform, a hat and a belt with a radio and some kind of club hanging from it. A guard. Miranda’s blood froze in her veins, her mind blank. Every word, every thought jumbled in her head, refusing to coalesce into coherent words.
“Miss?” He stepped closer, his smile turning to a frown, his hand dropping to the radio he carried. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I’m just out for a walk. It’s such a beautiful morning.” If her smile looked as forced as it felt the dark-eyed, clean-shaven young man would know in an instant that something was wrong. She needed to relax, pretend she belonged.
But she didn’t belong and she couldn’t relax and she still didn’t know what to say.
“You are a friend of Koon Miller?” He motioned toward the house, the sharp edge to his gaze a warning that things might be about to go very badly.
Miranda scrambled for an answer. Yes was what her head insisted she say. No was what her gut wanted her to respond. “No. I’m a friend of…” What had Hawke said his boss’s name was? “Mr. McKenzie. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go for a walk, but now I’m turned around and can’t seem to find his house. They all look the same.” And they did—white stucco, orange shutters, wide driveways and manicured lawns.
The guard seemed to relax at her words and he smiled. “Ah. I see. You came last night in the van?”
“No, yesterday afternoon. I’m in from the States.” Please let that be the right answer.
The young man nodded. “It’s easy to get confused when you first arrive. Koon McKenzie’s house is just five houses up on this side of the street.” He gestured to the left. “You will be staying a while?”
“Yes.”
“Good. There’s much to see here. You’ve been to Thailand before?”
“No, this is my first trip.” Miranda wanted desperately to make an excuse and hurry away, but didn’t dare.
“Go see the elephants then. All visitors like the elephants.”
“I will.” Pretend you have all day. Pretend you have nothing to hide. The words chanted through her mind, her heart pounding so hard and fast, she thought it would explode from her chest.
“Good. My shift is ending. If you go for a walk tomorrow morning, look for me. I’m Klahan.”
“M— Margaret.”
He smiled again, flashing white teeth and offering a bow. Miranda followed his example, then waved as the guard walked away, her heart still slamming against her ribs, her pulse racing.
She needed to find Hawke and get out fast, but forced herself to walk toward McKenzie’s house until the guard disappeared around the corner. Only then did she do what she so desperately wanted to—racing through a side yard, heading back toward the fence. Her feet slipped in wet grass and mud and she flew backward, her arms scrambling for purchase. Hard hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her upright and preventing her from taking a seat on the grass again.
Hawke.
Miranda knew it even before he whispered in her ear. “This is becoming a habit.”
“Me falling, you helping me or me getting us into trouble?” she whispered back, her shaky words sounding louder than she intended.
“You forgot one—you getting us out of trouble. I thought I might have to come take care of things, but you handled the situation well.”
“Don’t be too sure of that. I think we need to get out of here while we still can.” She started toward the fence, but Hawke pulled her up short.
“We can’t leave until McKenzie and I have a little talk. Besides, the guard bought your story. You even managed to get the location of McKenzie’s house out of him.”
“Hawke, I really think we should leave.”
“We’ve got no choice but to stick it out. McKenzie is either guilty, or has some idea of who is. He can give us the name and location of the people who knew I was in the States. Without those, we may as well head back to Maryland and turn ourselves in.”
Miranda wasn’t sure that was a bad idea, but as much as she’d like to believe going home was the answer, she knew they’d face just as much danger there. Maybe more. Once in police custody, they’d have no way of defending themselves against whatever threat Green and his men offered.
She kept her mouth shut and followed Hawke through one backyard after another. His footsteps were silent, his movements lithe and fluid. He barely seemed to disturb the air. Miranda, on the other hand, stepped on every stick and every loose stone, brushed against bushes and low-hanging leaves, and made enough noise to alert anyone who might be listening that she was trespassing. The way she saw it, if their success was based on the ability to reach McKenzie’s house silently, she was blowing their chances big-time.
“This is it.” Hawke paused
at the corner of a house that looked like every other house in the community.
“You’re sure this is the fifth house?”
“Positive.”
“What now?”
He gestured toward the back door. “See the shoes?”
She did. Yellow flip-flops sat neatly on a cement slab outside the closed back door. “Yes.”
“They’re not McKenzie’s. They’re his maid’s.”
“Which means?”
“Maids in communities like this visit each other for coffee or tea in the morning before their employers wake up. They always use the back door. All we have to do is knock and wait. We’ll be in before McKenzie gets out of bed.”
“Are you crazy? We can’t just knock on the door and then push our way in.” She grabbed Hawke’s arm, but he kept moving toward the door, Miranda’s dragging heels not slowing him in the least.
“Sure we can. It might not be the best plan, but it’s the only one we’ve got. And—” he paused, patting his side and the gun that was strapped there “—if it doesn’t work, I’ve got backup.”
“What if the maid doesn’t open the door?”
“She’ll open the door.”
“What if—”
He knocked. Two soft raps on the door, as if he knew exactly how a maid might gain her friend’s attention. He must have. The door opened, a woman’s voice audible before the interior of the room was visible. It halted abruptly, a small dark-haired woman, standing in the threshold, her mouth open, her eyes wide.
Hawke moved past her, speaking in Thai, the gun suddenly in his hand.
“Hawke—”
“She knows I’m not going to hurt her. She just needs to cooperate.” He said something else in Thai, his gentle tone contrasting sharply with the gun he still held.
The woman nodded, speaking quickly and gesturing toward a doorway that led farther into the house.
“What’s she saying?” Miranda’s heart slammed against her ribs, her stomach knotted with anxiety. They shouldn’t be here. They should have turned themselves in, not come halfway around the world for answers.
“McKenzie is home. Stay here and make sure the maid doesn’t leave. I’m going to find him.”
Arguing would only waste time and Miranda was desperate to be done and gone. She nodded, trying to smile at the Thai woman, but only managing a grimace.
“I won’t be long.” Hawke spoke as he stepped out of the room and disappeared from sight.
Miranda stood in taut silence, her ears straining to hear evidence that Hawke had found McKenzie, her gaze on the maid who shuffled around the bright kitchen as if this were any other day, as if a man with a gun hadn’t just gone looking for her boss.
“You want tea?” The Thai woman gestured to a pot on the stove.
“No, thank you.”
“Food?”
“No. I’m fine.” Discussing food and drinks while Hawke was stalking through the house with a gun seemed bizarre, and Miranda wondered what Hawke had said to the woman that had her offering hospitality rather than hysteria.
“You sit down then.”
A loud thud sounded from somewhere above their heads, the crash making both women jump. Another crash followed the first and Miranda grabbed the other woman’s hand. “We’ve got to see what’s going on.”
“No. We stay here.”
“We’re going.” She gritted her teeth and pulled the smaller woman across the room and through the doorway. Silence had returned and that worried Miranda more than the thud and crash she’d heard.
“Where is Mr. McKenzie?” She asked the question as she hurried across a long, white-walled living room.
“Upstairs getting ready for work. But we stay down here. We don’t interrupt.”
Miranda ignored the protest and started up the stairs, still clutching the maid’s arm. If Hawke was in control of the situation, she’d go back down to the kitchen. If he wasn’t…
What?
What could she possibly do? She didn’t have a weapon, didn’t have a plan. All she had was adrenaline speeding through her body and fear burning at the back of her throat. Maybe she could get her hands on the gun, or grab a vase or lamp from somewhere in the room. Though she doubted hitting McKenzie over the head with either would be an option. She’d need the element of surprise for that and between her huffing breaths and the maid’s high-pitched protest, Miranda felt pretty sure she’d lost that.
The upstairs hallway was empty, three closed doors beckoning. “Which room is McKenzie’s?”
Before the maid had a chance to reply, a scuffling sound carried from the room at the far end of the hall, the door banged open and a man stumbled out. Medium height and build with unremarkable features, dressed in a dark suit and understated tie, he looked about as dangerous as a butterfly.
Miranda stepped back anyway, her pulse racing as she searched the dark recesses beyond the door for Hawke. She didn’t have long to wait. He moved into sight, his gun down by his side, a scowl darkening his face. “Didn’t I tell you to wait downstairs?”
“I heard banging. I thought you might need help.”
His scowl deepened, pulling at the corners of his mouth and creasing his forehead, his eyes the brooding gray of February sky. “Everything is under control. Jack was just telling me where my brother is.”
“I was just telling you that your brother escaped while he was being transported to Bangkwang prison. If I knew where he was, he’d be back in custody.” Jack McKenzie’s voice was as unassuming as his face, his demeanor relaxed and unperturbed, as if he’d been expecting them and was glad they’d finally arrived.
Miranda edged back toward the staircase, sure she’d hear the sounds of slamming doors and pounding feet. If McKenzie had been expecting them, it was only a matter of time before his backup arrived.
“Hawke, I think we should leave.” Her voice sounded thick and rough, the taste of fear bitter on her tongue.
“Not until I get my answers.” Hawke’s gaze never left McKenzie.
“I’ve given you the only answer I have, Morran.” McKenzie’s gaze shifted to Miranda, his sharp focus disconcerting. “You must be Miranda Sheldon. A lot of people in the States are worried about you. I’m glad to see you’re all right.”
“I’d be better if you’d tell Hawke what he wants to know, so we can leave and you can get on with your day.”
“There’s no need for you to rush away. We have plenty of time for discussion—my ride to work won’t be here for another twenty minutes.”
“Only if that discussion has to do with who set me up and what you’re going to do about it.” Hawke bit the words out.
“It will.” Jack lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“You know something.” Hawke shoved his gun into his shoulder holster and leaned against the doorframe. “Why don’t you stop playing games and tell me what?”
“No games, Morran. I don’t know where your brother is and I don’t know who set you up, but I believe someone did. We’ve been this close to Green several times in the past few years. He always slips through our fingers. We’ve suspected for a while that someone has been leaking information to him. Now we know it for sure. There were only a few men who knew you were working for us. It has to be one of them.”
“Or you.”
“You don’t think it’s me anymore than I think you killed a man in cold blood to steal fifty thousand dollars. Though, I’ve got to admit, I’d have preferred it to be you rather than any of my men.”
“Thanks.”
Jack shrugged. “None of us want to believe someone we trust would betray us or the ideals and principles we represent. I’m sure you felt the same way when Sang Lao bought one of your people last year and th
at young girl was taken right out from under your nose.”
Hawke’s lips tightened, and he nodded. Obviously, he knew exactly what Jack was referring to.
Miranda wished she did. She’d thought Jack and Hawke would be adversaries, facing each other from opposite sides. Instead, it seemed they had some trust for one another. That could only be good. She prayed that Jack would tell them everything was okay, that the DEA knew Hawke was innocent and was working hard to find the guilty party, but as the two men stared tight-jawed at one another, she had the sinking feeling that wasn’t going to happen.
Finally, Hawke spoke, not moving from his post by the door. Though he seemed relaxed, Miranda sensed his coiled tension. “What are your plans, McKenzie? Obviously you have one, or we wouldn’t be standing here discussing things.”
“I plan to fix some leaky plumbing and I think you’re just the man to help me.”
“I’m no plumber, McKenzie. All I want is my brother, and the proof I need to get back to my life.”
“I’d say our goals are the same. We can accomplish more together than we can alone.”
“And I’d say we had this conversation twelve months ago when you told me I was just the man to help you bring down Harold Green. All that’s gotten me in a truckload of trouble. I’m thinking this time, I’ll stick to helping myself.”
“What about Miranda? If you go down. She goes down, too.”
“I don’t plan to go down.” Hawke smiled, a feral showing of teeth that held no humor.
“But someone has to.”
“Then let’s play this my way. You help me. Then we’ll talk about what I can do for you.”
Miranda was sure that Jack would refuse, that he’d tell Hawke that things were going to be done his way or no way at all. Instead, he nodded. “Fair enough. What do you need me to do?”
Chapter Thirteen
Hawke wasn’t surprised that Jack agreed to his terms. Though they’d never actually worked together, the other man’s reputation was well-known, his fierce commitment to putting a stop to the drugs being trafficked out of Thailand making him a formidable adversary to those who made money off illegal narcotics. As much as Hawke had suspected Jack of being the leak, he’d been relieved to find it wasn’t true.
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