Strike Zone (Hawk Elite Security Book 3)

by Beth Rhodes

  He lifted a brow.

  “What? I’m serious. We have no idea.”

  John sat up with a sigh and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “First of all, I’m a nobody.”

  “That’s not—”

  “It is true in our world. I’m support, and I’m really good at it. I was a medic once and am a nurse now. Nobody, but nobody, shoots the medic. Right?”

  She’d gotten caught up on the fact that he was a nurse. “Like, a real nurse? Two years or four?”

  “Four years,” he answered slowly.

  She knew she was staring, and that wasn’t nice. “I’ve never met a male nurse before.”

  “Are you, a female sharpshooter, being a sexist?” He grinned.

  Emily cleared her throat. “Uh, no?”

  “You totally are.” He laughed. “Fine. My point is…no one knows me from a hole in the wall. I didn’t have my face smeared all over the news. And I didn’t shoot Hassan’s son.”

  That was the knife, and it hurt more than she expected it to. “Ouch.”

  He rose and came toward her. “As much as that hurts, letting Hassan or anyone related to him get to you will hurt a lot more. Got it?”

  She nodded, knowing it was true. “It hasn’t been long enough for them to forget.”

  “Have you forgotten Sandra and Tim?”

  Tears threatened as shock settled against her breastbone. “You know about them?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you know I haven’t.”

  “And you know that your face in the news might have caused a cluster, one I’ll regret for a long time.”

  She frowned. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “We don’t know what it is, which is why we’re going to go home and chill until we hear from Hawk. A week at the most. I expect it to be much less.”

  “You aren’t worried?”

  “No one knows we left except for Hawk and Malcolm. I trust them both with my life. No, my mother’s life. If there’s a leak somewhere, we’re going to find it.”

  Talking about it made her stomach hurt again, but she nodded. “Okay. Idaho it is.” A giddy laugh escaped. “Idaho. Who the hell is from Idaho?”

  John smiled, the light of an inside joke bright in his eyes. “Six generations of the Vega family in the northern mountain country, that sits on Ghost Lake, outside Coeur d’Alene. My family’s been there since before the Civil War. I think we can handle a little sharpshooter like yourself horning in on our territory.” The fake drawl made her laugh and shake her head.

  “Fine.” Emily looked at the bed, which her new roommate was sitting on. “I sure hope you don’t mind sharing, John Vega, because I am too tired to worry about what your mama thinks about you sleeping with a sniper.”

  Picking up his bag, he stopped in front of her and tugged on her ponytail. “Funny you should say that, but I think she’ll be okay with it. She’s been doing it herself for thirty years now.”

  Emily’s mouth fell open. “Your dad?”

  “Twenty years as a marine sniper.”

  Her brain almost couldn’t take it all in. And then she laughed. “I’m seriously going to go to bed now and hopefully not wake up until at least seven. Then maybe we’ll have this discussion again, and it won’t feel like such a dream.”

  “Night, Emily,” John said before he shut the bathroom door.

  Coincidence? How could she believe in that kind of connection? She’d been alone for so long. Even her life in Harbor View seemed distant, unreal. Too easy to hand off those reins…

  She’d never—in her entire life or career—had the kind of connection that she kept finding with John. To the point that she was starting to wonder if he was making stuff up.

  After a restless night, John woke early. She’d slept at his back, unmoving, all night. But her presence there, the warmth of her body and the sound of her soft breathing, might as well have been the five alarms to the fire that had sprung to life in his blood—loud, screaming, and made to put a man into action.

  He sighed as he opened his laptop and sent an email to Hawk.

  No updates yet. No evidence of who the shooter might have been.

  Team news was slow as well. Jamie had left for Belize. Marcus had traded in his truck for a Jeep. Tyler had gone back to work this week, and things seemed to be going well for him and Jenny. Hawk maintained he would keep their whereabouts to himself until he was sure. There had been some inconsistencies from the press. Two who spoke to Hawk claimed an informant.

  John frowned. He couldn’t think of a single person from his team who would spill the beans. They were family. They argued sometimes. But never…

  “No.” He shut his laptop and checked his watch. Time to catch a plane.

  “I still think we should go back to Harbor View.” Emily sat, watching him, her brow furrowed, her legs folded in front of her and wrapped in her arms. “We’d have Eddie. It’s safe there.”

  Heat rose on his neck at the sight of her, sitting there, looking so very darn tempting, so very not his to touch. His MO was to avoid close encounters—with women in general. The rules of waiting had been pounded into his brain too long for him to merely disregard them. He went on dates just fine. He liked the company of the softer sex, like the talking and the thought that went into it, especially after hours and sometimes days of being around males.

  Emily was as far from the “softer sex” as he’d ever come across. Even the other women at Hawk Elite—the few—had soft edges and ways of doing things that were apparently female. This woman had steel in her spine. She was sharper, harder even than some of the guys.

  So to see her sitting there, looking so…pretty, so very mellow and delicate, even a little uncertain, forced him to see vulnerability, no matter how sexist that was.

  “Hello?” Emily tilted her head and unintentionally bared her shoulder when the collar of her shirt shifted.

  He rolled his eyes and stood. “We have to go if we’re going to catch our flight.”

  She rose, wearing only a very short pair of shorts. He quickly turned to give her privacy. “I’m going to throw my bag in the truck and check out. Get dressed.”

  “Okay, Father John,” she said, a laugh in her tone.

  He never let that nickname bother him before. This time it stopped him, and he turned back and saw the laughter in her eyes, yet it wasn’t condescending or cruel. And then she winked. He took her in with his eyes, her messed-up air and rumpled clothes, and bit back a serious moan. When his gaze met hers again, her eyes were wide, as if she was surprised.

  That he was attracted to her? That he was a man and wanted her?

  He let her see, because it was one thing when the guys ribbed him about being a priest, but when she said those words, it turned into something completely unholy.

  “Right,” she squeaked, and hurried to the bathroom. “I’ll get ready to go.”

  He slammed the door when he went out, thankful when the cold air hit his skin and cooled the heat within. He sent up a silent plea of mercy and wasn’t surprised when only the whisper of the wind was his answer. Some things didn’t need words.

  Opening the trunk, he threw his bag in and then rounded the front to open the hood, where he checked the fluids. They didn’t have far to go today. The airport was only a few miles down the road. Something to do was better than going back in there right now. He needed a few more minutes to cool off.

  Emily looked fresh when she emerged from the room with her duffel over her shoulder. Her hair was back up, this time twisted into a bun at her neck. The bag went into the trunk with his. “I’m ready when you are,” she finally said as she stood in the passenger doorway, waiting for him to finish up.

  He grabbed his wallet from inside and looked around the motel room one last time. He flipped the blankets back to check for stray items and checked behind the bathroom door for forgotten clothes but found nothing.

  He jingled the keys in his pocket. Time to go.

  Excitement raced through his ve
ins. Long time since he’d been back at home. Despite the close contact he maintained with his siblings and parents, there wasn’t anything the same as being there—back on the ranch, where he could get lost on the back forty or take the pontoon out on the lake for the afternoon. Hell, he’d be happy with the stupid little dinghy his brother had built when he was twelve.

  The one that had the false bottom. The one that had stranded him in the middle of the lake when he was ten, treading water for an hour until his dad rescued him. John grinned. Oh, yeah.

  Home was going to be a welcome reprieve.

  Chapter Eleven

  Northern Idaho

  John totally ignored her to jump out of the car and run for the woman who’d descended the front steps and come halfway down the pretty stone path to wrap her arms around him. She barely came up to his chest, but she was pretty, and Emily saw the family resemblance right away. The same dirty blond hair and the same eyes.

  John was grinning. The woman had tears in her eyes, but was laughing as she wiped them with the kitchen towel.

  Emily sat, uncomfortable with getting out and intruding on this scene.

  Not completely unaware of what separations did to families, she waited for the emotion of the reunion to abate before she slowly got out of the rental John had picked up in Coeur d’Alene so they could head north.

  The house, two stories, with dormers on the front and a wide wraparound porch, sent her heart beating so hard. This place was not what she expected. This place was huge—they’d driven almost four miles up the drive—gorgeous, and incredibly wild, all at the same time.

  For a man like John, she’d expected something…quaint, quieter, smaller.

  Why? Where had she gotten those notions?

  His politeness. He was a big guy, towering even over her five ten, but there was something about him that was gentle and restrained. He made her breathless now, with that grin on his face, which was turned up to the afternoon sun.

  And when he spread his arms into the air, as if to hug the sun, her brain stopped working. Because his hair glowed. His face shone. His waist tapered under broad shoulders. He was incredibly sexy. Incredibly primal…as if a part of the earth.

  He released a breath and his arms slowly lowered to his side. His mom nudged him and sent a glance Emily’s way. John put an arm on his mom’s shoulders and walked toward her.

  Emily broke out of her trance and moved, her heart pounding again, only this time with anxiety.

  The woman wore a skirt…and an apron. Her hair had some gray on the edges and was twisted up into a French knot. The entire day so far had been completely surreal. Now Emily was standing in the mountains of Idaho, where even the burning sun couldn’t disguise the fact that it was still cold. And she was about to meet John’s mother, of all people.

  Did he often bring clients or coworkers home?

  “Mom, this is Emily Rogers. She works for Hawk Elite.” His hand remained on his mom’s shoulder. His mom smiled shyly, studying Emily.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Vega.”

  “Please, call me Donna. It’s always nice to meet one of John’s friends.” Question answered. Although Emily didn’t know what they were. “Come in. You must be exhausted after the trip.”

  “She slept the entire way here. What’s to be tired about? Besides, look at this place.” John was staring out toward the peaks again.

  Emily shook her head. “Are you sure you should have left?”

  “Oh, yes.” John grabbed the door behind her as he smiled down into her face. “You don’t appreciate anything as much as you do if you leave, or have to leave.”

  She’d heard that, but knew nothing about it. Before Harbor View, her home had been the place to lay her head between jobs. Before that, it had been the place where she studied between classes. If she went back far enough, she might remember a vaguely sentimental feeling about her time as a kid—at the beach—and needing to leave and wanting to stay.

  Surely, that had more to do with returning to the house her stepfather called home.

  A shiver ran up her spine as she blocked the thought.

  Geez. She really needed to not think about the past. For some reason, being with the Vega family was causing her to dive into parts of her psyche she had no business being in.

  “Oh,” Emily exclaimed as she stepped through the door. Hardwood—of all grains and shades—covered the front room, with its vaulted ceiling, big furniture, and warm, rich colors. A stone fireplace was built into the far west wall. On each side of the fireplace was a window, from floor to ceiling. Sun came through the glass and touched everything.

  Through the glass was the perfect view of the mountain range, white-capped peaks that rose and fell and rose again into the blue sky. “Wow. That blue. That view. Jeez—”

  Her throat tightened. Why did seeing that through John’s home affect her so strongly? She cleared her throat and turned to him, only to find him standing next to his mom in the foyer. They both were watching her. His mom had a look of pure kindness in her eyes. One Emily hadn’t seen since her childhood.

  One that she knew was the very reason she shouldn’t be here right now. She was trouble, and it scared the crap out of her that she might bring that trouble to this place.

  “Come back to my kitchen, and I will get you a drink, dear.” Donna came over and put an arm around Emily’s waist. “Go see your dad, John,” she ordered. “I’m going to steal your new friend for a while.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Another wounded stray?” John’s dad had a way of getting right to the point.

  Drove him crazy most of the time, but he didn’t mind. He considered the question before answering. “No,” he said slowly. “Scarred.”

  Dad tossed him a pair of gloves, and John drew them over his hands and then stepped into the corral where his father was training one of the new mustangs. “Up,” he said, and as if he’d never been away, John jogged beside the fence and waited for the horse to come aside him. He grabbed the reins, stepped into the stirrup, and swung his leg over. Around he went, once then twice, and finally a third before his dad, satisfied with how the horse was handling a rider, signaled him to stop.

  John patted the mustang’s neck. “How long have you been working with him?”

  “A month. He’ll do well. I have a buyer coming out later this week.”

  John dismounted and walked the mustang over to his dad. “Name?”

  A shy smile rose on his father’s face. “You always were more interested in getting to know the horses than train them.”

  “Guess that’s why I live in Raleigh.”

  “We haven’t named this one. It’s going to the therapy camp down in Colorado.”

  John nodded. He’d visited the camp a few times over the years after he’d volunteered during high school. “You have enough help around here?” He trusted his brothers and sisters to keep an eye on things, but he still worried. His dad was in his seventies now. He might be going strong, but there was always that niggle in the back of John’s head. “You should take a vacation.”

  Dad snorted. “I’m in the best vacation spot this country has to offer. Where would I go?”

  With a shrug, John followed his dad to the barn. “I don’t know. The beach?”

  At the following silence, John stopped and turned to his dad. The conversation was fairly familiar. They’d had it before a few—hundred—times. But never before with the hesitance.

  “What?”

  “Mom’s been talking about taking a trip. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

  John rolled that around in his brain, using reason to keep the panic at bay. “Everyone’s healthy, right?”

  “Of course,” his dad answered, and frowned. “Darn woman, that’s all. Thinks we should go on a cruise or something.”

  John thought of the sweet little tourist town on the coast where he’d found Emily. “I know a place you might like.”

  “Don’t put more ideas in her head.�
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  He couldn’t help but laugh. “Dad. You guys can take a vacation. The ranch isn’t going anywhere. Dave’s got it covered.” Turning, he put a hand on his dad’s shoulder, surprised at how short and slender he seemed. The man had definitely lost an inch or so and some bulk in the last several years, so that now John was the one who felt like the big guy.

  It frightened him a little.

  “Think about it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good.” He handed off the reins. “I’m going to find Dave.”

  “Head out toward the lake. Dumbass Don Juan took some girl on a picnic. He should be back by now anyway. Remind him he has work to do.”

  John snickered. “Did you really call Dave a dumbass?”

  Rolling his eyes, his dad chuckled. “It’s gotten worse.”

  “Oh, Dave.”

  “Maybe you can talk to him. He looks up to you.”

  A breeze blew up from the valley and brushed his face. The smell of the lake below them came up the hill, and his thoughts turned to Emily up at the house. “Dumbass,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “I’ll talk to him.” After I find Emily.

  His legs protested the climb back to the house. Being back at high altitude always wore on him at first. Made him crazy to feel so weak, so he pushed it, running the last twenty yards. The cold coated his lungs and he wheezed as he bounded up to the back porch and stopped. He bent over his legs to stretch the hamstrings and felt the ache in the back of his legs.

  “You really should run more, so you’re not so out of shape.” Her voice came through the open door and the screen that separated them. She was grinning, though, and holding a mason jar that had fresh lemonade in it.

  He groaned when he saw it. His mom made the best lemonade in the world. No, the universe. When he opened the door, Emily stepped back and he eyed her drink, which made her cup her hand around it protectively. “Hey, get your own glass.”

  He forced himself not to stop and be a sentimental fool as he crossed into his mom’s kitchen. Making a spectacle of himself wasn’t really on the list of things to do in front of Emily. But the warmth hit him first. Then the smells, of bread and roasts and…something flowery.