Night of the Hawk (LS 767)

by Victoria Leigh

  "Don't you think that Hawk's distrust of the cops verges on paranoia?" she said. "I mean, it just doesn't seem possible that this Marchand person could waltz through the system and get to me or Hawk without raising a little suspicious dust in the process."

  "Hawk mentioned you were naive," Sammy said. "He did not tell me you were stupid. If Hawk says Marchand will do it, he should know. He worked for the man long enough to understand the kind of power he can and will use as leverage to survive. What Marchand did to Hawk's partner was just a sample."

  Angela let the insult go without comment because there was something more important in what Sammy had just said. "Hawk told me about Marchand and Nico and the rest. Did it happen like he said?"

  Sammy's gaze narrowed on her face. "You let a man kiss you like Hawk did this morning, and you are not sure whether you believe in him? From appearances, I assumed there was at least a degree of trust between you." He held up a peremptory hand to stave off any response, which was good because she didn't have one. "Back to the subject at hand, Miss—Angela. Hawk is at present returning to the compound for you. He insisted."

  "But that doesn't make any sense," she protested. "I thought you said this place was going to be under siege."

  "I believe it already is." He looked at the guard, who nodded in confirmation. "However, they will be waiting for Hawk or yourself to make your break out of here. They will not expect someone to try getting in. If Hawk succeeds—"

  "What do you mean if?"

  "Exactly that. If he can break through—which, by the way, he has a good chance of doing with my men covering him from inside the perimeter—then he should be here very soon." He looked at his watch just as the sound of gunfire erupted in the distance.

  Angela's heart was already thudding double time as she spun to stare at the trees. There was nothing to see, and when the gunfire ceased a moment later, there was nothing to prove anything had happened. She turned back to the men, but her mouth was too dry for her to ask any of the horrible questions racing through her mind.

  Hawk was out there somewhere, coming back for her and risking his life in the process. It wasn't even necessary, not if Sammy was to be believed. Even though she didn't know how, Sammy appeared confident of his ability to get her out of the compound in one piece.

  If Hawk wasn't already dead, she was going to make him wish he was. What could he be thinking about?

  The guard touched the receiver in his ear, listened hard, then flashed his employer a quick smile. "It worked. Hawk smashed through the gate and was halfway up the hill before they realized he wasn't just a drive-by."

  Sammy nodded. "Not opening the gate for him was brilliant, Frank. Good thinking. Remind me to add the damage to his bill."

  "He made it?" she asked, but she didn't really need an answer. Sammy's casual reference to what Hawk owed him was more convincing that any reassurance.

  "He should be here any second now." Sammy turned to the guard and said, "I think we should get them on their way in case anyone heard the ruckus."

  The guard said something into his mike, but Angela didn't hear what, because the growl of a racing engine made her swing around. She was just in time to see the blue sedan Hawk had driven away in come flying through the trees and up the drive. He screeched to a stop and was out the door and jogging toward them before Angela had a chance to catch her breath.

  He looked straight past her to Sammy. "Sorry about the gate."

  "Wait till you get the bill," Angela murmured, annoyed at herself because Hawk hadn't looked at her and she didn't like how that made her feel.

  Hawk turned and stared at her. "I thought I told you to stay inside."

  "Not my fault." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared right back.

  "I am afraid I took the liberty of asking Miss Ferguson to join us outside," Sammy said. "In case you did not survive the trip back, I thought it best to handle things personally."

  "I figured he was going to shoot me and didn't want to mess up the cottage," Angela said, and was surprised at the gray pallor in Hawk's face. "Obviously, you were wrong in thinking Sammy doesn't trust me."

  Hawk's snort of disbelief was accompanied by a similar sound from the guard. Sammy just smiled at her very gently and said, "It is a moot point now that Hawk has returned. However, if he had not made it, I am afraid you might not have found the situation so amusing."

  Angela was about to demand to know what he meant by that—she wasn't laughing at anything!—when a loud thrumming filled the air and she looked up to see a small black-painted helicopter swoop across the trees to hover over a wide expanse of lawn. Spellbound, she watched as it settled on the ground, then glanced to the side where Hawk had been standing. He wasn't there anymore, and it was a frightening few seconds before she spotted him near the car with the everpresent sports bag in one hand.

  He came back and shouted at her over the din. "That's our ride. Take off your shoes."

  On principle, she argued. "Why?"

  Hawk looked at Sammy as though to say, "See what I have to put up with," then told her to do it or get left behind. Even though she doubted Hawk would have come back only to desert her over a minor issue, she decided not to take the chance that she might be wrong. When she straightened with shoes in hand, it was in time to see Sammy pull a dark scarf from his pocket and hand it to Hawk.

  Sammy turned to her. "If he had explained that he did not want you to fall or break an ankle between here and the helicopter, you would probably have responded better. Unfortunately, there is not always time to explain things and a situation might arise when your life will depend on doing exactly as Hawk says, even though you do not understand why. I would suggest you remember that." He shifted his gaze to Hawk. "There will be a car and maps waiting when you land. If there is anything more you need, ask someone else. I have a feeling things will be a little difficult around here for a few days."

  Hawk nodded curtly, then grabbed Angela by the hand and headed across the lawn to the waiting helicopter. The guard went with them and climbed into the front seat beside the pilot, leaving Hawk to half lift, half push Angela into the back, then slide in beside her. He'd hardly closed the door when the ground fell out from under them as the pilot guided the machine into the air. The racket was deafening, but after the first second she hardly noticed, because Hawk was leaning over her with the scarf in his hands and a determined look on his face.

  He put it over her eyes and held it there despite her best efforts to pull away. She was too startled by the suddenness of his action even to begin to sort out why he was doing it, so she reacted without thinking, struggled because it was her first impulse.

  When she felt the heat of his breath against the side of her face, she realized he was talking to her. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to concentrate on what he was saying.

  ". . . your own protection, Angel. If the guard thinks you've seen something, he'll tell the pilot to land back at the compound. Stop fighting me," he said, and his urgency finally sank in.

  She stopped tearing at the cloth and dropped her hands to her lap, stunned that she'd so misjudged Sammy. He'd seemed such a reasonable, polite man, but if what Hawk was saying was true, he was as much of a threat as Constan-tine and Marchand.

  Hawk kept talking to her as he tied a knot in the scarf over her braid. "That's it, Angel. Just relax and we'll get out of here in one piece. I'm going to put your seat belt on now." She had to move her hands as he brought the thing over her lap and buckled it. She felt him sit back and fiddle with his own belt, then he was talking into her ear again. "I'm going to put headphones over your ears to cut down on the noise, but they aren't plugged in so you won't hear anyone talking."

  She reached out and caught a fistful of his jacket to keep him from moving away. She waited until she felt something brush her lips and decided it was probably his ear. "I've never been in a helicopter before, but I have to warn you I get carsick real easy."

  "Don't worry about it," he sa
id, and she knew he was smiling because it sounded that way. "We won't be in the air long."

  A moment later the 'copter did something that made her stomach turn over, and she was about to repeat her warning to Hawk when he put something into her hands and showed her by touch how to open it. Then he covered her ears with the thickly cushioned earphones, thus reducing the racket by a factor of ten or better.

  Clutching the airsick bag in one hand and her stomach with the other, Angela sat still as a statue beside the man who had risked everything to come back for her. Why had he done it?

  NINE

  It was the little things that Angela was learning to be grateful for in this violent, terrifying world Hawk had introduced her to. Common, everyday triumphs such as not getting stuck in rush-hour traffic, having an umbrella handy when the heavens opened up, or arriving home to find—for a change—that her firewood delivery hadn't been dumped in the neighbor's parking slot, were replaced by even more basic victories. Not getting sick in the helicopter was a major coup.

  Hawk obviously agreed. He slid behind the wheel of the black pickup, then looked over to where she sat rigidly in the passenger seat and said, "I know it wasn't easy for you in the helicopter, but outside of knocking you out, there was no other way. I'm not sure I could have made that trip blindfolded without being sick."

  "If you mention the word sick again," she said between shallow breaths, "I'll disappoint you all over the floor."

  "Sorry." There was a definite upward curve at the corner of his mouth as he started the engine and drove across tarmac to the road beyond.

  The helicopter had dropped them at what appeared to be a deserted airfield that was surrounded by fields of crops she didn't recognize. That didn't worry her because she'd never been any good at identifying various foods or grains by the way they grew. Unfortunately, whatever clues regarding their location she might have gleaned from the neat rows of green that flashed past the truck's window remained untapped.

  She decided that if she wanted to know where she was, she would just have to watch for signs. In the meantime they were on a narrow asphalt road that could pass for a farm road in California or a major highway in Mexico. No clues there. The fact that they were in the only vehicle in sight wasn't a help either.

  "The maps are probably in the glove compartment," Hawk said. "Can you get them out and see if you can figure out how far we are from a town of some sort?"

  So much for having to do things the hard way, she thought. If Hawk would let her see maps, where she was was no longer a state secret. "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Besides the fact that I never, ever read anything in a moving car," she said calmly, "it wouldn't do me any good to look at a map when I don't have any idea where we are. I'm lacking a point of reference."

  "I figure we're about seventy miles northwest of Sacramento," he said after shooting her a look that was a silent touche.

  The realization that they were close to familiar territory was so comforting, she forgot all about the butterflies in her stomach. She was reaching for the glove compartment when Hawk said, "Can you drive one of these?" He indicated the stick shift protruding from the floor.

  "Yes."

  He pulled the truck to a stop at the side of the road, put it into neutral, and got out with the engine still humming. Then he came around to the passenger door and opened it.

  "You drive," he said. "I'll do the maps."

  "Really?"

  "Really." He reached up, closed his hands around her waist, and lifted her out in one lithe movement. Her feet had no sooner touched the ground than he let her go and swung up into the seat she'd vacated. "I'd help you in the other side, but I don't want you running off without me."

  "I could have just climbed over the gears," she said, declining to reply to his assumption that she would have taken the chance of escaping. It wasn't that the impulse wasn't there, only that she wasn't positive she would have acted on it.

  Things that had just been frightening before were more so now that she was beginning to comprehend the full extent of the threat. The explosive sound of gunfire back at Sammy's had been very persuasive in that regard, and Angela was too smart to imagine she could survive on her own in a world so alien.

  "I thought you'd appreciate the fresh air," Hawk said. He opened the glove box and began sorting through the maps while Angela went around to the driver's side and got in.

  The truck was a basic no-frills model that evoked pangs of nostalgia for her Towncar. There was no automatic button to move the seat forward, a crank where there should have been a button to work the windows, and the outside mirror had to be adjusted by hand. Even with all those deterrents, she had the pickup in gear and moving down the road long before Hawk looked up from the map.

  "Which way do I go?" she asked brightly. The sense of freedom that came from being behind the wheel was intoxicating to the point of madng Yver want to augi. She didn't, though, because the somber look Hawk gave her didn't encourage such frivolity.

  "Straight is fine," he said, "as it's the only option."

  "For now maybe, but when we get to a decision point—"

  "When you get to one, I'll tell you." He folded the maps and put them on the floor. "You can drive so long as you behave."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" A cloud darkened her personal horizon with that reminder of the situation she hadn't yet escaped.

  "It means that if you're still set on getting away from me and try to do something to attract attention, then I'll have to drive while you sit with your hands tied to the seat."

  She could tell he meant it because he spoke in the same emotionless tone he'd used every other time he'd given her an order he expected her to obey.

  "I'm sick to death of being threatened."

  "I thought the word sick was banned."

  "That was before I got behind the wheel. I'm pretty invincible so long as I'm driving." She forced back a smile that threatened and frowned instead. "Answer me something, Hawk."

  "If I can."

  "Why did you come back to Sammy's for me? He said he'd made arrangements for us to hook up outside the compound." Even though the truck was only moving a decorous fifty miles per hour, the road wasn't so reliable that she felt she could take her eyes off it for longer than a second. Luckily, that was all it took to reassure herself that Hawk wasn't wearing his "it's not something you need to know" expression. She continued. "There was no need, Hawk, for you to risk your life. Why did you?"

  "Sammy had been betrayed once already. I wasn't willing to take the chance it would happen again."

  Sne chewed this answer over for a few minutes. "Yes, it was logical for Hawk to imagine lightning might strike twice, but even so, that didn't explain the risk he'd taken. Just because Constantine was convinced he could get to Hawk by using her, it didn't necessarily follow that Hawk would respond.

  "That's not good enough," she said finally. "If you'd been caught or killed, it would have accomplished nothing. This whole vendetta you have with Constantine would have ended right there."

  The truck hit a pothole, and Hawk waited until she'd wrestled it back into the middle of the road before replying. "I took you to Sammy's for your own protection. I came back for you for the same reason."

  "Because you feel responsible for me."

  "Because I am responsible for you. I thought you understood that."

  "I'm beginning to," she murmured, touching the brakes when she saw a stop sign ahead. "Trouble is, if I buy into that part, then there isn't anything left of what you told me that I can afford to doubt."

  "That bothers you?"

  She downshifted to a halt and folded her arms across the wheel. "It terrifies me, Hawk. I don't think I was this scared the night you made me swallow cocaine."

  "I don't know, Angel. You looked pretty scared to me. What makes this seem worse?"

  "Because back then I was naive enough to believe there had to be a way out, that no matter what, this nightmare would en
d and everything would go back to the way it was." She ran her tongue over her dry lips and turned to look at him. The expression on his face was what she was coming to recognize as "classic Hawk"—unreadable, impervious, cold. A shiver curled through her as she responded to a chill in the air between them.

  She went on. "I don't think I believe that anymore. In fact, I'm pretty sure we're going to die, both of us. Everything before that is just tap dancing."

  His expression didn't change. A car whooshed by on the road in front of them, but Hawk kept looking at her, through her, until she couldn't stand it any longer and had to turn away. Another car went by in the other direction, and she was wondering what kind of plans the person driving it had for the next day, the next year, when Hawk finally spoke.

  "Turn left, Angel," he said. "It's about ten miles to the main highway."

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pick up a map and unfold it on his lap. Following his lead, she dropped the subject and steered the truck onto the crossroad. She couldn't think of any reason not to. Hawk might share her assessment, but he wasn't the type to give up without a fight. Talking about it was obviously something he wasn't prepared to do at this point, and she knew she needed to overcome that reticence if she was going to be any good to him. It would probably help, she mused, if he knew exactly where she stood, and she decided to make it clear for him when they stopped for something to eat.

  Despite her dire prediction of their imminent demise, she couldn't help but think there must be something they could do to survive. Both of them—because it was important to her that Hawk lived through this as well.

  He hadn't needed to come back to Sammy's for her, but he had and she owed him for that.