Strike Back (Hawk Elite Security Book 1)

by Beth Rhodes

  Stacy took the first turn into the lobby and crashed into another guest—full body, no-hesitation, throw-her-back-on-her-ass confrontation. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

  The man, not much taller than she, was broad in the shoulders and slim to his waist.

  “What an idiot I am. Oh,” she said, finally focusing on his face and seeing the amused look.

  “Are you okay? I stepped on your foot.”

  She became hyper aware of his hand on her arm and her shirt sticking to her skin.

  His gaze never left her face, his dark brown eyes smiled into her own, and the urge to smile back came unbidden. He was older than she thought at first.

  And she relaxed, shrugging. “I’m okay.”

  “I expected to see someone chasing you,” he suggested, joking, with a look behind her and a grin. He moved to put a hand on her shoulder, a friendly gesture—she knew, but the years of protective instinct kicked in, making her tense. He patted gently. “If there’s anything I can do…”

  He trailed off, leaving his offer open-ended. And when she looked into his warm brown eyes, she saw kindness.

  “I’m so sorry. I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Stacy.” They’d been coming to this little private resort for so long, she felt more like it was home sometimes. It was easy to ignore all the strangers that came through.

  And easy to keep her distance from people after all these years in her husband’s business.

  “Michael,” he said, offering his hand at the introduction. “Michael Richards.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Michael.”

  “No trouble.” He smiled with a shrug and turned. He caught her eye, looking far more deeply than she thought was possible of a stranger, the kind of look that made you wonder if a person could read the mind.

  “Do you believe in fate?” he asked.

  Stacy's heart stuttered unexpectedly. “I—”

  “I believe fate has brought us together.” He smiled, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze as he continued, “For now, I'm off to my tango lessons.” He stomped his feet. “Cha, cha, cha!”

  Nerves, air conditioning, and the lingering scent of sweet cigars were why her stomach jumped and her hands tingled as she made her way to the side exit and the path that led to her beachfront suite.

  Did she believe in fate?

  Not until today.

  ***

  The scent of pasta and homemade sauce wafted on the air, hitting Hawk as he walked through the door to the suite. Made the way he liked it, with a blend of basil and garlic. He detected the distinct aroma of red peppers and heard the crinkle of burnt skin being peeled away from sweet red flesh as he came through the doorway.

  “Stacy?” he called out as he dropped the Luzon assignment folder on the table inside the door. “Babe?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  He followed the hallway to the back of the small little beachside bungalow. There was something cozy about having access to a kitchen, the extra bedroom, and, most importantly, the beach. He loved the water. He loved it here…

  He hated that he had to leave, and coming into the kitchen and seeing Stacy at the stove in those hip-hugging capris that showed off her slim ankles made the ache even worse. He wasn’t sure what would hurt more—the actual leaving or telling her that he had to leave.

  He didn’t like pissing her off, and it seemed he’d gotten very good at that lately.

  “There’s my trebuchet,” she spoke from her spot next to the stove and raised her eyebrow.

  “Haha. I’m really sorry about that. I got a bad call and the drink went flying. By mistake. I didn’t see it when I started gesturing—”

  “You do have a way with your hands.” She cut him off. She’d always been there for him, always had his back. There were times he didn’t know that he deserved her. But he loved her, which made his predicament pretty damn shitty. “Don’t worry about it.”

  He rubbed a hand over the ache in his head. Damn headaches plagued him. He smiled anyway. “I have to tell you something.”

  “Oh, my God.” She gasped with a laugh. “You’re having a steamy affair with Angelina Jolie.”

  “You just dated yourself.” He chuckled, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her closer. “It was Scarlett Johanson—I like her short blonde hair.” He twirled a finger through her hair, “And she said she wanted me to bring my hot wife with me. We’d make it a threesome…and live happily-ever-after.”

  “Ha. Yeah, right.” She elbowed him, creating space and leaving him bereft of her touch to go back to making dinner. She gave a stir then carefully tasted the sauce. Her tongue came out to lick her lips. “Mmm. Perfect.”

  Hawk cleared his throat. This was harder than he thought it was going to be. “Actually, I have to go back to the office tonight.” Coward. He’d promised her this would be a real vacation. And he was trying, really he was. And maybe, if he was lucky, he could go into the office and clear up the trouble over the phone. Then he wouldn’t have to go at all.

  No point in upsetting her for no reason.

  Stacy froze for an instant. “Oh, bugger. Need any help?”

  “Nah. I shouldn’t be too long. Just one last thing to take care of in Manila.”

  She placed the spoon against the side of the pot and turned to him. Her hands circled his neck and found that point at the back, just below his hairline, and rubbed her agile fingers against the tension there. “Better?”

  “Mmm,” he murmured and let his head relax forward and rest against her forehead.

  She kneaded the muscles then traced her fingernails against his skin. In an instant, comfort turned to desire, and Hawk took her face in his hands and tilted her head up to meet his. “Thank you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers.

  “Any time, babe.” She heated him even as his headache returned full-force. He ignored it for the taste of her lips.

  “Let’s eat,” she breathed harshly as her mouth broke away from his.

  Hawk gently kissed her cheek and let his thumb caress the smooth skin of her collarbone. “Yeah. Let’s eat.”

  Chapter Two

  Five years ago, an explosion had embedded bits of shrapnel in his brain. Hawk joked that he was more like one of the characters in the sci-fi novels Stacy liked to read because, though the doctor had made him like new, he still had pieces up there they hadn’t been able to get out.

  Calling that time rough was a gross understatement. Stacy had handled it like a professional, even if it had taken too much out of her, emotionally and physically. He had to wonder if those days of being physically unable were coming back to haunt him.

  Better yet, how could he stop it from spilling over into what he and Stacy had built for themselves?

  Dinner was over and they sat together in the small dining area, legs entwined beneath the table. He tapped his foot against her calf. “What are you thinking?”

  A breeze blew through the open bay window and the curtains fluttered against the floor. She sighed. “It was nice to talk to the kids.”

  “Yeah. John sounded excited about the girl he met.” It amazed him that their straining-to-be-independent son of seventeen years could be so pleasant when they had an ocean between them.

  “Well, he couldn’t be happier with free rein of the German countryside while we’re in Belize, as far from his back pocket as we can possibly get.”

  “Right.” Hawk grinned.

  “Don’t grin.” A smiled played at her lips, even as she teased him. “It was exactly your youthful gregariousness that brought us together. We should be hoping my parents keep him very, very busy.”

  Stacy relaxed even more, though, and smiled as they talked about what each of their offspring were up to. He liked to see her comfortable and unstressed, even if it would be temporary. He wasn’t dummy enough to look beyond the fact that she’d been hinting at making a change, at filling a bigger role in the company. And that scared the crap out of him.

  “Moira sounds like she’s giving
the flower shopkeeper a run for her money,” he said.

  “She’s curious.”

  “About flowers now? Last year it was marine life and wanting to be a marine biologist.” Hawk loved that about their daughter. So inquisitive. “When you’re as young as she is, anything is possible.”

  It was the aging that changed that…

  “They’re all having a blast,” he admitted.

  “Well, I miss them, but I don’t mind a little vacation from them.”

  “Not that it’s been much of a vacation so far.” There was guilt there.

  “We’re together, aren’t we?”

  He looked at her, the serious gaze from her blue eyes. “Yes. And I’m going to clear the desk for us. If worse comes to worst, and I have to fly out to the Philippines, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Stacy got up and stacked her plate on his, raising her brow, because she knew him, knew the business well enough to know…there were no guarantees.

  “Hey, come on. Where’s the upbeat, positive gal I married, huh?”

  “Look, I can take the oddball distance that’s been gaining momentum over the last few months. Even I’ve been a little unsettled.” Turning back to him, she nailed him with a gaze that forced truth. “Let’s be realistic, okay? We planned this vacation a year ago, and we still couldn’t make it happen without work involved.”

  Hawk’s hand went automatically to his head, and he scratched. Damn. “Okay, okay... You’re right—” Yet, he had to stop. “You’re unsettled?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Her short crop of hair swung forward as she shook her head. She wasn’t just sad, though…more on the verge of something else—anger?

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to finish things in Manila, or let Tan finish them, and then come back here so we can watch a movie or the sunset…or hell, the sun rise.”

  When he picked up their dishes, she waved him on. “I got this.”

  He took them to the kitchen anyway and left them in the sink. “Stacy,” he said her name, relieved when she turned to him. “I’m sorry.”

  She rolled her eyes, good humor in them.

  For now.

  ***

  Miguel crouched, sitting on the end of the country lane, waiting for the man.

  The one who would pay.

  The sky was dark with the clouds of a million rain drops that fell on his head.

  He waited, and waiting saw the life he should have had. Years with his Nina, with the one woman who made him the man he was meant to be. The one who brought peace when there was none, and laughter and joy.

  She was his everything.

  She was dead.

  He had killed her.

  He held her in that last moment.

  He had his hands on her when the bullets, aimed for him, ripped through her young, vibrant body.

  Nathan Hawkins, retired Army, company owner, family man and husband…was going to die today.

  The sound of a truck, traveling down the road brought through his thoughts.

  This was it.

  He lifted the gun and rested it in the notch at shoulder level. The tree stood back in the grove off the drive—hidden yet with a clear view. A bird chirped in the distance. Wind blew through the trees over his head.

  And then the truck was there, coming down the dirt road, straight toward him.

  His hands shook. His breath hesitated on the exhale…

  He aimed, watching closely. The truck’s motor grew louder, the crank of gears scraped along his subconscious, like it always did.

  Miguel pulled the trigger. Saw the bullet, in slow motion…and in front of it a face.

  His breathing grew too shallow. His heart beat increased. His palms perspired against the stock and barrel.

  And the face changed—from Hawkins to Nina…

  Miguel sucked in a breath and sat up, the feeling of free falling high in his chest and throat. He swallowed. Just a dream. Sweat dripped down his brow, down his bare chest. He turned and sat on the edge of the bed, wiping his face with his hand.

  Those perilous days after everything had fallen apart. The loss had left him desolate, unable to make decisions. His business had not withstood his world, crumbling around him. Within months, he’d lost his hold on the growing export industry in and around Jakarta. He’d come back, though. Stronger, better…colder, and more able to do what needed to be done. He’d failed once. He wouldn’t do so again.

  Miguel was close now. He’d dug for years, always one step away from finding the man who had breached his circle that day. The man who had put Nina in the line of fire. And finally, he’d found his Ghost. Hawkins.

  Nathan Hawkins, and his very pretty wife. Who he dreamed about destroying. Who he wanted to take down, little by little, just like he’d done to him.

  And after all these years, he would do so with great pleasure.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Cortez shook off the reminiscence, remembered the woman in the parking lot, and turned to his newest paramour. He’d hoped for a distraction until he had the one who mattered—Hawkins’ wife.

  The redhead would do for now. And as he slid inside of her, he thought of the sweet, cautious American with the stunning azure eyes.

  ***

  Hawk woke to heat. With a pounding head and groggy eyes, he shifted away from the source only to have it follow him. Hot hands on his abdomen and moist skin against his thighs sent his body into early morning alert. After almost twenty years, he should be immune.

  But he couldn’t be, not where Stacy was concerned. And that was the fucking problem with needing to let her go, knowing he had to let her go. God, he should let her go.

  The doctor had given him his walking papers…

  He lay without moving as her hands roamed across his waist, tucked into his shorts, and stilled, resting there as she fell back into sleep as his own frustration grew. He covered her hand with his own, and waited the minute she needed to get back into sleep. He had to get up, get out of the reach of her hands before he gave in and took her right now.

  When Hawk finally returned from the office last night, he'd fallen into bed without a thought. Now, five a.m. seemed too damn early. Jeez, so much to do.

  He slid a hand under her arm and lifted it, biting back a moan of regret when her soft skin brushed across his hardening flesh. Slowly, he got out of bed.

  He took a cold shower, letting the water douse his desire. After dressing for the day in his blue jeans and t-shirt, he hit the kitchen for a quick meal. Oatmeal, not because it was his favorite, because it was supposed to lower cholesterol. He figured he better stay one step ahead of the Grim Reaper. Forty-something had snuck up on him like a damn snake and sunk its venomous teeth into his heart.

  “Nate! For the love of God.” Stacy spoke from the doorway.

  Oatmeal boiled over and hissed against the electric coils.

  His protective streak flared as she came his way. “Watch it.”

  Their hands crashed, and the pot jostled, threatening to tip over. He circled her waist with an arm and lifted her away from the stove.

  Sweet Jesus, had she been wearing this skimpy, silky night gown to bed?

  “Oh,” she cried. “Put me down.”

  When he dropped her and reached for a towel, she stumbled against the table.

  The pot went into the sink. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he took her hand and opened it. “Did you touch it?”

  “No.” As she straightened her spine, the hem of the pink material rose. He cleared his throat instead of groaning like he wanted to and turned away from the temptation to take her right there on the kitchen counter.

  There was a time, he wouldn’t have hesitated…

  Now, there was only this fear, this godawful uncertainty every time he opened his eyes, that he wouldn’t be able to see her at all. He was going to fail her and lose his business, his ability to be the man he needed to b
e—for her, for his partners, his children.

  “I scheduled us to go deep sea diving today.” Her voice was level, matter-of-fact, like she expected the worst from him and was waiting for it.

  He bit his tongue on the urge to make excuses for himself. “Just a few things this morning will wrap up the assignment in Luzon. How about I meet you down at The Shack for lunch?”

  “Okay.” Her look challenged him. “I didn't plan this getaway on my own. You were there too. We decided to come here together, send the kids to Germany. Yet I’m by myself after the sun goes down. And alone when I wake up, too.”

  “I know. I’m really sorry.”

  She shrugged. “I want more, Hawk. I want sex. I don’t care if you have to work late. But, why not wake me in the morning? Or wake me when you get back? I mean…come on. What’s going on?” Her lips pursed, and her eyes turned opaque and narrowed with unconcealed skepticism.

  She had been sleeping, and he’d…crashed with the headaches that were coming more frequently. “I am sorry. And I also have to get ahold of Tancredo this morning.”

  He gave in and pulled her in, kissed her good, like he’d been wanting to—hot lips against hers, and his hand on her fine, firm ass. He let the kiss linger longer than he had time for, and then he rested his forehead on hers. “I’ll be fast,” he whispered.

  Hawk grabbed a banana as he left the kitchen, bumping into the dining table as he hurried by. He hadn't even seen it. The charley horse on his thigh stung like a you-know-what and was definitely going to leave a mark.

  The fire of desire and fear and uncertainty in his gut propelled him through the suite and out to the path. The morning sun peeked out from beneath the sea as he sucked in a breath of fresh, salted air. Invigorated by it, he shoved the unwanted emotions from his conscience.

  He almost missed the turn to the main building of the resort. Rubbing a hand over his head, Hawk swallowed a curse. The headaches were bad enough. The doctors said he would be fine, but he was starting to think he’d be useless without sight.

  ***

  “Of all the stupid, stupid…” Stacy’s tennis shoes crunched against the familiar, shell-covered path.