Wild Hawk

by Justine Davis, Justine Dare

  “Don’t bother.”

  He moved his feet from the table and stood up. Next to his height and bulk she seemed fragile, looked almost brittle with age. But he didn’t need Kendall’s warning not to underestimate this woman. He’d learned long ago that sometimes the most harmless-looking foes were the most dangerous. They were the ones who carried the knife in their boot or the zip gun in their waistband. And they’d use it from behind more often than not.

  “You’ll get nothing from me,” she repeated loudly as he walked past her toward the door.

  He looked back over his shoulder at her. “You’re too late,” he said, meaning it in more ways than she knew. “I already got what I wanted from you.”

  He ignored the burly man who had obviously been lingering outside the library door, awaiting a summons to bodily throw him out; the man’s face wore an expression of disappointment that was almost comical. Purposely Jason grinned at him as he walked past him out into the night, and began to whistle cheerfully as he strode out to his car and got in.

  He dropped the jovial facade as soon as he closed the car door. He watched his mirrors carefully as he pulled away, but there was no sign of a tail. He hoped he’d left the old woman a little off balance, unsure of what he’d do now. Uncertain exactly how much he knew. Not realizing that only one thing that he’d discovered tonight really mattered.

  It was the truth. Alice Hawk had murdered his mother as surely as if she’d been driving the car herself. Rage boiled up in him. He fought it. It was a dangerous emotion, interfering with clear thinking, and he had too much to think about.

  When he reached the main road he stopped, pondering for a moment, then he turned the car in the opposite direction from the motel. He wasn’t ready to face Kendall just yet. Not until he’d decided what he was going to do.

  Well, not what he was going to do; he knew that. It was how he was going to do it that he hadn’t decided yet. He drove through the darkness, thinking.

  Alice was guilty as hell, just as the book had said. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel about the book, but he was sure of one thing. He wasn’t through with the Hawks yet. Not as long as Alice Hawk sat smug and safe in her mansion, certain of her privileges, exempt, in her eyes, from the rules that governed others, while his mother had died far too young, and at this woman’s hands.

  She had done it, but she was also right. He couldn’t prove it; he could hardly offer up the book as evidence. No, he couldn’t prove it. But he could make her pay.

  She might be more than seventy years old, but a fierce anger burned in Aaron’s widow’s dark eyes, and he knew she would be a formidable adversary. But then, he’d always enjoyed those fights the most, the ones against worthy opponents, because winning meant so much more then. And he would win this one, too. Alice Hawk didn’t know what she was up against. She didn’t know that she was dealing with a man who had learned to hate at a very young age, and who had raised it to an art form when it came to anything and anyone named Hawk.

  And that lost, rudderless feeling that had overtaken him when he’d learned he’d waited too long to take his revenge on his father had disappeared, vanished before the growing tide of fury. For now he had a target perhaps even more deserving than Aaron Hawk. And it was a target he would enjoy taking as much as the Hawk namesake enjoyed taking an unsuspecting field mouse. And he would take extra enjoyment in the knowledge that nothing would enrage Alice Hawk more than to know that it was he who had brought her world crashing down around her.

  And he knew just who would help him do it.

  “YOU DIDN’T EXPECT her to come out and admit it, did you?”

  Kendall watched Jason from across the table in the cozily lit restaurant. She’d been startled when he’d suggested they go out for some dinner after his late return from his meeting with Alice Hawk. But she’d sensed he was wound up, beyond restless into unsettled, and since she’d been hungry anyway—she’d been too worried about what would happen with Alice to eat while he was gone—she had agreed.

  And then she’d been even more startled when he had, without consulting her, driven straight to Aaron’s favorite restaurant in town, the quiet, elegant Gables. She didn’t mention that fact, although it again struck her as amazing, the seemingly impossible similarities between the father and son who had never known each other. Besides, she hardly had to tell him Aaron had come here often, not when everyone from the maître d’ to the head chef himself approached her to express obsequious sympathy on Aaron’s passing. She had smiled graciously; Jason had ignored them, just as he ignored the startled looks he’d been garnering since they’d walked in the door.

  “No,” Jason agreed mildly now. “I didn’t expect her to admit to anything. I expected exactly what I got.”

  He’d told her Alice had been furious that he’d dared to set foot in her house. That she’d threatened to have him thrown out bodily. And that she had denied knowing anything about his mother’s death. All of which Kendall would have also expected from Alice. What surprised her was that Jason had left it at that and simply obeyed Alice’s orders and apparently walked meekly out. She couldn’t see him backing down from anyone, even the redoubtable Alice Hawk.

  Besides, she thought, if that was all that had been said, what had taken up the rest of the three hours he’d been gone?

  “I was driving around,” he said when she finally asked exactly that. “Thinking.”

  “Thinking . . . about what?”

  He lifted his glass of the delicately fragrant wine he’d ordered, a Napa Valley specialty of the house that, ironically, had been one of Aaron’s favorites. He looked at her over the rim of the glass, in a way that made her feel like she was being inspected. He took a small sip, then set the wineglass down.

  “Let’s talk about that later. Things have been a little . . . heavy, and I think we need a break.”

  And then, quite unexpectedly, he smiled at her. A real, genuine smile. Her breath caught as his entire demeanor changed. For the first time since the time they’d talked about how she’d met Aaron, his bright blue eyes were full of warmth. Gone was the dark, brooding man she’d known; gone was the cool, assessing Jason West, and in his place was a beguiling stranger.

  For a moment she wished she hadn’t had to say no to the wine, because of the pain medication the hospital had given her; she could have used a drink. But then she thought again; alcohol fogging her brain was the last thing she needed. She was already far too attracted to this man for her own good, and she didn’t quite trust this sudden change in attitude.

  “And,” he said with a touch of ruefulness that was quite winning, “I believe I owe you an apology.”

  He owed her several, she thought, recovering some of her equilibrium, but said only, “Oh?”

  “I made some pretty harsh assumptions about you when we first met. And I underestimated your capabilities and intelligence as well. I’m sorry.”

  Kendall blinked, taken aback yet again. When the man decided to apologize, he really did it right, she thought, feeling more than a little stunned.

  “I . . . thank you.”

  His mouth curved upward even farther. “Does that mean you accept my apology?”

  She struggled to shake off the effects of that dazzling smile. She didn’t know where he’d come from, this charming, appealing man; she only knew that Jason West had suddenly become more dangerous to her than ever.

  “With reservations,” she said, managing to sound skeptical rather than breathless.

  The smile became a lopsided grin. The silliness of it, coupled with the unexpected warmth in his eyes and the lock of silky, dark hair that had fallen over his brow, made him look years younger than when she’d first seen him at the funeral, or at any time since.

  “As in ‘What brought this on?’ ” he asked, in a tone that matched the grin.

  “Exac
tly,” she said, feeling disarmed by his self-deprecating words nearly as much as his amused expression; she barely managed not to respond to the engaging grin by automatically returning it.

  He shrugged. “I figured if we’re going to work together on this, we’d better clear the air.”

  “Work together . . . on what?”

  He reached into the inside pocket of the coat he’d tossed on the next chair when they’d taken their seats in the quiet back corner of the upscale restaurant. He pulled out the manila envelope she’d given him, the envelope that contained the codicil to Aaron’s will. She was surprised he had it; he must have picked it up while she was changing clothes. Then the inference of his action struck her, and her gaze shot back to his face.

  “You’ve decided to fight her?”

  There was the slightest of pauses before he said, “She’s not going to get away with it.”

  Kendall had the feeling that he meant much more than what his words appeared to mean on the surface, but she was so relieved that he’d changed his mind that she didn’t dwell on it. She hadn’t let Aaron down after all.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “Don’t thank me,” he said, a note of amused warning in his voice. “I’m a tough bastard to work with.”

  “Good. It’s going to take a tough bastard to beat Alice.” For the first time since he’d come back from that meeting, she smiled at him.

  He went very still, staring at her. She assumed he was startled that she’d so easily tossed the harsh phrase back at him. Suddenly he tossed the envelope back on the chair beside him, atop his coat.

  “Later. We’re going to take that break. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

  “On both of us,” Kendall agreed softly.

  Had it really been only two days? she thought in shocked realization. She had expected, if she ever found Aaron’s son, that he would take a lot of her time for a while. She hadn’t expected him to consume her entire life, to take over every waking and sleeping moment to the exclusion of all else.

  It wasn’t until their food, a plate of the Gables exquisitely prepared lemon chicken for her and a sizable filet of fresh halibut for him, sat in front of them that he spoke again.

  “What happened to your parents?”

  The question startled her enough that she stared at him for a long, silent moment before she answered.

  “They were killed in a traffic accident when I was seven.” Still unable to quite make the mental jump from the suspicious, cold person he’d been to this man showing every evidence of friendly, genuine interest, she added bluntly, “Why?”

  He didn’t react to her tone. “I just wondered.” After she’d taken a bite of her chicken and a sip of water, he asked, “Why foster homes? Wasn’t there somebody else to take care of you?”

  “No more than there was for you,” she said, unable to guess why this topic had suddenly become of interest to him. “I had a grandmother, my father’s mother, but she was ill and couldn’t deal with a seven-year-old. She died a couple of years later.”

  “So you were an orphan.”

  She grimaced. “I hate that word. It sounds so . . . needy.”

  “I know,” he said, in a quiet, gentle tone she’d never heard from him before. It made her feel very strange inside, a softer, less urgent version of what she’d felt when he’d kissed her.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” she hastened to say. “Most of the people I lived with were nice. And Mrs. McCurdy, the lady I lived with in high school, was wonderful. She was a teacher, and she was the one who convinced me I should go to college. She even tutored me so I could improve my grades. I still hear from her.”

  “She must be proud you turned out so well.”

  “Yes, she is.” She hesitated, then decided to take advantage of this oddly complaisant mood he seemed to be in. “Why did you run away, Jason? After your mother died?”

  She expected him to tense up, but he leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about that. I hated the idea of living with strangers. I must have picked up that feeling from my mother. She always said never to trust strangers. I assumed it was natural maternal caution, but now . . .”

  Kendall’s eyes widened. “You think she was . . . afraid? That Alice would . . . send somebody after you again?”

  “Maybe she knew Alice knew where we were. Maybe she just sensed someone was keeping track of us. I don’t know. I just know she was always afraid. I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t.”

  “Poor Beth,” Kendall murmured. “What a sad way to live.”

  “Beth?”

  Kendall nodded, lost in contemplation of a young woman whose life had revolved around keeping her young son safe from a malevolent woman. “That’s what Aaron always called her. His Beth. I got in the habit of thinking of her that way.”

  The minute the words came out, she snapped out of her reverie, cringing as she braced herself for some kind of biting observation on her continued attempts to convince him Aaron had truly loved his mother. It didn’t come. His usually sharp gaze seemed unfocused, and when he spoke, his voice was as softly reflective as Kendall’s reverie had been.

  “No wonder she hated it when people called her that. She always told people to call her Elizabeth, or Liz, or even Lizzie, just not Beth. It must have . . . hurt too much.”

  “Oh, Jason,” she said softly.

  He looked at her then, and for an instant the old Jason seemed to be looking at her, cool and seemingly assessing her reaction. But it was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure, and the engaging smile was back.

  “Do you remember your mother, Kendall?”

  Disconcerted by the unexpected question, it took her a moment to answer. “Yes. In bits and pieces. And I have pictures, of all of us together. That helps.”

  They were halfway through the dessert Jason had insisted on before she realized she’d spent practically the entire meal talking about herself, her family memories, her time at college, and silly things she knew perfectly well Jason had no interest in. Yet he kept asking, guiding the conversation back to her whenever it strayed, as if finding out about her had become the most important thing in his life. It would have been flattering, had she not had a suspicion that there was some hidden motive to this, some motive she hadn’t yet figured out.

  Why are you so determined to think I have some hidden agenda here?

  Her own words came back to her, mocking her. She had accused Jason of the very thing she was doing now, looking for a hidden motive to everything. And she had nothing more to base her doubts on than a flicker of something in his eyes, something she wasn’t even certain she’d really seen.

  They rode back to the motel in silence. A comfortable, companionable silence, suited to two people who had just enjoyed a delicious meal and were now pleasantly tired. It wasn’t until they pulled into the parking lot that Kendall suddenly wondered where Jason was planning on spending the night.

  He’d been so exhausted last night that she’d had little concern about him staying with her. But he wasn’t that tired now. And last night had been before he’d kissed her . . .

  He was around the car and opening the door for her before she could manage to do it herself; she was still feeling the effects of the crash rather strongly. She tried formulating the question in her head a dozen different ways as he walked with her up to the door of her room, but she couldn’t think of anything that didn’t make her sound like a fool.

  “We’ll figure out a plan of attack in the morning,” he said as she fumbled with her key.

  “I . . . All right.”

  This lock hadn’t seemed this tricky before, she thought, trying again to insert the uncooperative key. Gently Jason took the key, slid it into the lock, and opened the door for her.

  “Good night
, Kendall. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Her gaze flicked to his face. She didn’t think she’d let her thoughts show, but he spoke as if they’d been written across her forehead.

  “I got a room when I first got back tonight. I’m next door.”

  “Oh.”

  “Not,” he said, his voice suddenly husky, “that I’d turn down an invitation to share.”

  Kendall felt color flood her cheeks. She looked away, but with a gentle touch he held her chin up so she had to look at him. He smiled, an expression that was almost tender on his face.

  “I thought it was a bit too soon. But I had to ask.”

  He lifted one shoulder in an almost sheepish half shrug, but as he looked down at her, his smile slowly faded, to be replaced by something much more elemental. Heat flared in his eyes as the thumb of the hand that had tilted her head back came up to trace the line of her lower lip.

  “Jason.” She stopped when she heard the quiver in her voice.

  “I want you, Kendall.” His voice was low, thick. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you stand up to that old bitch at the funeral.”

  For an instant, before heat swamped her from the images those husky words brought on, she felt a surge of satisfaction that he’d said that, rather than some banal comment about her appearance. Then caution rose in her. He’d thought her Aaron’s mistress then. She didn’t know if he still believed it, but if so, this could be some twisted way to strike at his dead father.

  “A-Aaron,” she stammered. “You think I—”

  He hushed her with a finger to her lips. “I know better now. And Aaron has nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with us.”

  He gave her plenty of time to move, to dodge away, but she knew she would do neither. Nothing in her life had ever made her feel the way Jason’s kiss had, and she had to know if it had been a fluke, an out-of-proportion response engendered by the emptiness of her social life over the past three years.