HAWKEYE ONE:
DANGER ZONE
Sierra Cartwright
www.loose-id.com
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Hawkeye One: Danger Zone
Sierra Cartwright
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
870 Market St, Suite 1301
San Francisco CA 94103-2907
www.loose-id.com
Copyright © October 2008 by Sierra Cartwright
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-796-2
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Jana J. Hanson
Cover Artist: Marci Gass
Chapter One
Oh, shit.
Nate Davidson opened his eyes and tried to shake away the stars that had exploded in his head and stolen his vision. It took several tries before the image of strong, tall, dark, and dangerous Wolf Stone blinked into focus. And when it did, Nate was pretty sure he’d never seen anything better.
It’d been a long time. Too damn long.
“You’re lucky I didn’t tear your fool head off.”
Nate flexed his jaw to make sure it still worked. “Feels to me like you did tear my head off.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Stone’s voice was deep and ragged, cut glass on velvet.
“You’re not glad to see me? I thought you’d start looking for a fattened calf.” Nate Davidson knew what danger was. And it had nothing to do with his battered body or the nasty storm snarling its way over the Rocky Mountains. Danger was Wolf Stone. And an unhappy Stone meant that Nate was right in the middle of the danger zone. He struggled to get his elbows behind him. Damn mountains were made of rock, not the best pillow under any circumstances. Downright painful when you’d had your clock cleaned by a tank of a man. “Mind if I sit up?”
“Stay where you are.”
Lying on the ground, looking well over six feet up into Stone’s cold eyes left Nate at a disadvantage, or, rather, at a greater disadvantage than he usually was around Stone. “Hospitable, aren’t you, boss?”
“All trespassers get the same treatment. Don’t take it personal.”
No matter how hard either of them tried to pretend otherwise, they both knew Nate was no ordinary trespasser.
And Stone was no ordinary property owner.
In the last three years, the man had commanded several missions that Nate had been assigned to. Every person selected had to meet rigorous physical standards. By any measure, Nate was a good-sized man, an inch over six feet, two hundred seven pounds of lean muscle.
Still, Stone had him by two inches and at least twenty pounds. Even now, recouping from injuries to his right arm and left knee, Stone had effortlessly brought Nate down. Well, that was an understatement. Stone hadn’t brought him down. The man had tossed Nate like yesterday’s newspaper.
All in all, he was lucky a nasty bruise and two inch knot on the back of his head was all he got.
“Still waiting for an answer to my question, Davidson.”
Sometimes, only the truth would do. “When you refused protection, Hawkeye sent me.”
“You’re here,” Stone said incredulously, “to protect me?” He raised a dark eyebrow in a way that made grown men cower. Nate’d seen it happen, and he refused to admit to himself that it made him cower, as well.
“Who’d have imagined?” Ludicrous.
Stone sheathed his KA-BAR knife. The weapon was definite overkill in Nate’s mind. He knew for a fact Stone didn’t need any kind of knife to tear a strip out of someone’s hide.
“Tell Hawkeye I said thanks, but no thanks. You can find your own way off the ranch.” Stone turned.
If he hadn’t been aware of the other man’s injuries, Nate might have entirely missed the way Stone favored his left knee. As much as he’d hate to admit it, Stone did need back up.
The threat against his life was real and imminent. Within days, Stone was expected in Denver to testify against Carlos Rivera. He was the only eyewitness to the hit that had taken out Fernando Garcia, an honorable U.S. DEA agent, leaving the man’s five-year-old daughter as the only survivor. Word on the street was that some lucky bastard would get a cool million if Stone didn’t make it to court.
While he was holed up in his Rocky Mountain fortress, he was safe enough. But once he left the ranch…
“So,” Nate called out when Stone got about ten paces away. “You’re not interested in knowing how I breached the perimeter?”
“I knew you were here, didn’t I? You got exactly nowhere before I had your ass in a sling,” he called back.
Maybe Stone wasn’t as vulnerable as those on the outside had believed. Still, Nate wasn’t going anywhere. He hadn’t traveled across several time zones to get here only to turn tail and run because Stone had taken him down. No matter how hard that landing had been. “Stone?”
The other man didn’t slow down.
“Storm’s brewing, man,” Nate shouted.
“You’ll get wet.”
Well, hell. Nate collapsed back onto the unforgiving ground. That’d gone well.
Stone disappeared over a ridge, vanishing into thick Ponderosa pines.
In a nearby tree, a hairy woodpecker -- nasty little bastard -- beat out a staccato that matched the throbbing headache in Nate’s temples.
Under any circumstances, he deferred to Stone. The man exuded authority. There was something palpable about it. It inspired loyalty. Even now, when Stone didn’t want assistance, didn’t want to be protected, Nate had no intention of leaving. Stone was as stubborn as the mountains were rugged. But Nate was here to stay.
Hawkeye hadn’t recruited Nate for this job. He, plus the helicopter pilot and copilot, had volunteered. Getting onto Cold Creek Ranch had taken days of planning and cunning, not to mention the assistance of a handful of teammates. And none of them would admit failure.
Half a dozen raindrops pelted his cheeks.
Even in the last few minutes, the storm had gathered clouds in tight and whipped them together with wind to descend the eastern slope of the Continental Divide.
&nbs
p; Could this get any worse?
Lightning slashed through the swollen, gray sky, igniting a path of cloud-to-cloud strikes.
Yeah. He supposed it could always get worse.
* * * * *
Wolf Stone, no matter how drop-dead gorgeous he was, was out of his freaking mind. And mean, to boot. “You left Nick out there?” Kayla Fagan demanded, her mouth dropping open. “Have you seen the weather?”
“He’s not made of sugar.”
“Meaning he won’t melt?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, crap, Wolf. If this is how you treat your friends, what do you do to your enemies?”
He shrugged. “None of them left alive to tell.” He smiled, and it did nothing to soften his features. The quick curve was more wicked than anything. And it made his blue eyes darken, reminding her of that few moments of twilight before the sky swallowed the sun and all hell broke out.
He strode from the room, and she followed. “Mr. Stone --”
“Wolf, or just Stone,” he interrupted, not slowing down. “And I’m not worried about how I’ll sleep tonight.” He crouched in front of the hearth, tossing kindling into the empty fireplace grate. When she’d first heard he was holing up in a log house on a ranch, she’d been disappointed, picturing a remote, barely inhabitable two-room cabin.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Wolf Stone evidently enjoyed luxury, and his home was the intersection of comfort and high-tech. This room, more than any other, gave a nod to his heritage. A Navajo rug, painstakingly woven by his grandmother, hung from one of the walls. Another rug, not crafted by his family, dominated the area near the fireplace.
In other rooms, he flicked a switch to ignite the gas fireplaces, but in this one, he obviously preferred to build it himself.
Even though she was stunned by his bad behavior, she couldn’t help but be fascinated watching him. By hot and by damn, this man was a sexy piece of work. Broad shoulders. Long, black hair, as wild as he was, cinched back with a thin piece of brown leather. And Lord, did he have a tight ass.
Oh, and a cock with plenty of potential.
Not that she’d seen it actually full-length.
But at night, when he thought she was asleep, he walked around the house in the buff.
Last night, he’d been partially erect, and the darkened view had inspired her dreams and nearly made her forget her job.
Lucky for her, at least part of the time, she was required to have her hands on him. She just hadn’t quite figured out how to professionally get him to take off all his clothes to touch his naked body.
Thunder cracked, and she thought of Nate. “I think you should at least invite him in until the storm passes.”
“You going to nag me?” he asked.
“Convince you to change your mind, using my excellent powers of verbal persuasion.” She grinned. Not that he noticed with his back to her.
“Save your breath. Hawkeye doesn’t need to squander its resources on me.”
Hawkeye. The company they all worked for, named for the man who’d founded it, a man she, and most others, had never had the opportunity to meet. Wolf, she’d heard, was one of the man’s closest advisors.
In a professional capacity, Hawkeye, Inc. was one of the world’s premiere personal security firms. The world was changing, becoming more global, and at the same time, smaller.
Companies and people had resources that needed protecting. From jewelry to art, family members who were kidnapping targets, to celebrities and corporate secrets, someone had to keep the world safe.
That’s where Hawkeye came in. With their highly trained men and women, some of them former military -- with a heavy emphasis on recruitment from Special Forces -- many ex-cops and bodyguards, lots of IT people and other brainiacs who left her scratching her head, they provided protection that was second to none. The higher the stakes, the likelier it was that Hawkeye would be the firm of choice.
Her teammates were the best in the world. She was proud to be one of them. “Hawkeye brought me in as well,” she reminded him. “And I’ve never been fortunate enough to meet him. Maybe he would go to these extraordinary lengths for anyone of us, but maybe he wouldn’t. All I can say is, he obviously considers money spent on your rehabilitation and protection to be money well spent, not squandered.”
“My mind is made up.” He struck a match, filling the room with the sharpness of sulfur. He looked over his shoulder at her.
“But --”
He cut her off. “I told Hawkeye not to send anyone. I meant it.”
“You can have a heart, just until the weather clears. Then you can go back to your regularly scheduled grumpiness.”
His mouth was set, brooking no argument. “Let it be.”
Huge splatters of rain hit the floor-to-ceiling windowpanes.
Wolf might be able to sleep at night if he left his comrade out there, but she would toss and turn with worry.
Decision made, Kayla crossed to the hallway closet, pulled open the gigantic golden oak doors, and took out a raincoat. She also grabbed her gun and checked it before tucking it into her waistband. She snatched up a pair of compact binoculars and a compass and was shoving her arms in the sleeves of the yellow slicker as she walked through to the kitchen.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Exactly what you said.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m saving my breath. I decided not to argue with you,” she said.
“Stop right there.”
He spoke softly, but his voice snapped with whiplash force. Despite herself, she froze. She’d faced untold danger, but this man, unarmed, unnerved her. A funny little knot formed in the pit of her stomach.
Kindling crackled as fire gnawed its edges.
“I asked you a question.”
“I’m going for a walk,” she said.
“Turn around,” he instructed, his voice all the more terrifying for its quietness. “And look at me.”
Slowly, she did.
He stood and faced her. “Let’s try that again,” he said quietly. “And let’s be very clear, Ms. Fagan, that you’re here at my pleasure.” He took a single step toward her. “I don’t like being disobeyed.”
That word was loaded with meaning and threat.
Wildly she thought of the room in the basement, the one with crops and paddles hanging from the walls. The one she’d been forbidden to enter, and the first door she’d opened when he’d left the house.
She locked her knees so she didn’t waver. “I’ve never been much for being obedient.” Which might be a teeny little white lie. She wasn’t experienced at dominance and submission, but she’d always wanted to experiment.
“Nathaniel Davidson is far from helpless.”
“He’s a fellow member of Hawkeye. I’m not allowed to leave him out there. And I won’t.” She met his eyes. “Really, Mr. Stone, I don’t really care if it gets me fired.” Or worse. She pivoted and walked away.
The wind whipped at the door, nearly snatching it from her hand.
She turned up the collar of her ineffective raincoat. There was never anything friendly about a Rocky Mountain storm.
She’d grown up in Tucson where torrential rains were common during the monsoon season. They cooled the weather to bearable seventy-degree temperatures, but this…it was freaking like winter.
Fortunately, she didn’t have far to trudge. From her conversations with headquarters, she had a pretty good idea of where the insertion was supposed to happen. And in less than fifteen minutes, the ground beneath her sizzling with electrical ferociousness, she saw a streak of orange.
She grinned.
Members of her team were smart. Nate had donned a reflective safety vest. That would, at least, stop friendly fire.
“Davidson!” When she got no response, she called out a second time.
He started toward her. “Come to rescue me, have you?” he shouted above the roar of the wind. “Bet Stone told you
to come.”
“He sends his regards and invites you to sit next to the fire while he pours you a cognac.”
Nate laughed. “How much trouble are you in for coming after me?”
“He said he doesn’t like to be disobeyed, but he didn’t threaten to flay the skin from my hide.”
“Doesn’t mean he won’t.”
“Thanks. That’s a comforting thought.”
“He doesn’t know?”
“Who I am? No.” She shook her head. “He thinks Hawkeye sent him a physical therapist.”
Nate grinned. “Do you know enough about that to do no harm, doc?”
“Uh… I watched a special on PBS.”
Thunder cracked.
“Can anyone join this party?”
Wolf. Her breath threatened to choke her. How much had he overheard? It shouldn’t have surprised her that he’d followed, that he’d effortlessly covered the same ground she had in far less time. The man was in shape, and he kept himself sharp, the same way he had when he led American troops in the Middle East.
Over the lash of the summer storm, his voice laden with command, he said, “Both of you, back to the house.”
The wind snatched a few strands of hair and whipped them against his high cheekbones. His features were roughly hewn, and, out here, in the elements that suited him, he appeared even more formidable than he had in the house.
“Fabulous,” Nate said. “Thanks. Maybe I will get a cognac, after all.”
“Don’t count on it,” Stone fired back.
Cheerfully, as if he couldn’t have been happier, Nate grinned and gamely started down the mountainside. Freak. No one should be happy about this kind of reception.
“Move it, Fagan.” Stone instructed, leaning forward so he could issue his command directly into her ear.
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.
“Did you say something?”
She blinked innocently.
His arched brow told her he hadn’t bought it.
Steps short but sure, she followed Nate, leaving Stone to bring up the rear.
Minutes later, the mean-looking sky unleashed a torrent. Earth became mud. Rocks became as slick as ice.
Sierra Cartwright - Hawkeye 01 - Danger Zone Page 1