Soldier's Christmas Secrets (Justice Seekers Book 1)

by Laura Scott

  She shook her head, knowing sleep would be impossible. “Do you think this could be related to one of my students? Like maybe one of the kids’ parents is into something illegal? I just can’t figure out what else it could be.”

  “Anything is possible.” Hawk’s voice was husky and a bit hoarse, something she hadn’t noticed before now. As if he might have a sore throat. “When we get to the cabin you can make a list of possible suspects.”

  “They’re students, not suspects.” The words were sharp and she winced, knowing she was taking her frustration out on Hawk. “Besides, I think the police should be the one to search for the men responsible.”

  Another brief pause before Hawk spoke. “I’m a private investigator and I have friends who are cops in the Milwaukee Police Department. I need you to trust my judgment on this. Give me a little time to figure out what’s going on.”

  Hawk Jacobson. Private Investigator. Friends who were cops. That was a whole lot more than she’d known about him an hour ago.

  “Okay,” she reluctantly agreed.

  The rest of the car ride was silent. Hawk exited the freeway and took a curvy highway heading northwest. Then he pulled off on the side of the road and shut down the vehicle.

  “I need to go in on foot, make sure the place is safe,” he told her. He took a gun out of his side holster and held it out to her. “Stay here. If anyone approaches, I want you to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  She recoiled from the weapon as if it were a venomous snake. “I’m not touching that thing.” She glanced at Lizzy. “We’re better off without it.”

  Hawk’s lips tightened, giving her the impression he wasn’t happy. But he so rarely revealed any emotion that she thought she may have misinterpreted it. He gently placed the weapon in her lap. “You’ll use it if your life or Lizzy’s is threatened.”

  Without waiting for her to respond, he slipped out of the car and shut the door behind him.

  She watched him round the front of the SUV and head into the woods. One minute he was there, the next he was gone, somehow without leaving obvious boot prints in the snow behind. The man moved with incredible silence, making her wonder where he’d learned such a skill.

  The service? Had Hawk spent time in the military the way James had? Yet if that was the case, why was he working as a private investigator? Why not join a police force?

  She shook her head. This insatiable curiosity about her neighbor wasn’t healthy. Hawk’s personal decisions were not any of her business. She wasn’t interested in anything beyond friendship.

  Ignoring the gun in her lap, she twisted the wedding band on her finger, thinking about James. How much she missed him. How he was everything she could have asked for in a husband and how he would have been an amazing father to Lizzy.

  Then she thought about Hawk. Who was here, now. Who had not only helped her with house maintenance without being asked but was determined to keep her and Lizzy safe.

  She slipped the ring off, and then, besieged by a rush of guilt, pushed it back on. Staring out through the windshield, she wondered how long it would take Hawk to check out the cabin. This sitting in the darkness, waiting, was getting on her nerves.

  She heard a noise and froze. Then she did something she never thought she’d do. She picked up the gun. It felt heavy and cold in her hand and she had to wrap both her hands around the handle to keep it steady.

  Another rustle and she instinctively knew the sound wasn’t from Hawk returning. The man was too quiet to cause this much noise. She tightened her grip on the gun, sweeping her gaze from the windshield to the passenger-side window, searching for anything amiss.

  Two deer walked out from the woods. They stopped, looked at her with glassy eyes and then gracefully leaped and ran across the street right in front of the SUV.

  She let out her breath in a whoosh. Deer. A doe and her fawn. Not men wearing ski masks.

  Yet she didn’t release her grip on the gun.

  Five minutes later, she noticed a dark shadow stepping out of the woods. She tightened her grip on the weapon but within a few seconds recognized the shadow as Hawk. The moonlight on his face made it easy to see his scar.

  He quietly approached the car, nodding an acknowledgement when he caught her looking at him. He came around and slid into the driver’s seat.

  “It’s clear.”

  She held out the weapon. “Take this. I don’t want it.”

  He took the gun and pushed it back into its holster. He drove a quarter mile down the road and turned into a gravel driveway.

  The cabin was about a hundred yards in, nicely surrounded by trees. He pulled to a stop and then climbed out. “Do you want me to carry Lizzy?”

  “I’ll get her. She might cry if she wakes up to a stranger.”

  He nodded, grabbed the duffel and went over to hold the door. A dusting of snow clung to her boots, so she kicked the lower doorjamb to clear them before going inside. Lizzy snuggled against her chest as Jillian carried her across the living room. She hesitated, glancing at Hawk questioningly.

  “There are twin beds in this room.” He opened the door to the right of what looked to be a bathroom. “The other room is off the kitchen.”

  “Thanks.” She went inside and gently set Lizzy on the twin bed closest to the door. After removing her winter coat and boots, she tucked her daughter into the sleeping bag on top of the bed. She straightened and turned to find Hawk standing close.

  Too close.

  In the darkness she couldn’t see his face very clearly, but she had often wondered about the deep scar he carried along his left cheek. Catching a whiff of his aftershave, she found her pulse kicking up and her knees going weak.

  It was the same brand James used to buy.

  “Excuse me.” Moving abruptly, she ducked around him and left the bedroom. Her heart was pounding erratically and for a moment she feared she was losing her mind.

  In that brief instant, she’d thought the man standing beside her was James. Same height, same weight, same aftershave.

  Impossible. James was dead. This was nothing more than her overactive imagination playing tricks on her. Hormones reacting to a familiar scent.

  She wasn’t interested in a relationship with Hawk.

  Yet for the moment, her life and Lizzy’s depended on him. On his strength and ability to keep them both safe from harm.

  TWO

  Battling guilt, Hawk silently followed Jillian into the living room and began making a fire in the wood-burning stove to heat up the cabin. He hadn’t meant to frighten her, but given the way she’d bolted out of the room, he knew he must have. He’d worked hard over the past several months to remain nonthreatening. To provide help without getting too close.

  But discovering Lizzy was his daughter had changed things. He’d wanted to peer down at her tiny face while she slept. He’d wanted the right to bend down to kiss her forehead and whisper good-night.

  Unfortunately, his life, the life he should have had, remained far out of reach. Maybe forever.

  Not that it should matter. There were more important things to worry about at the moment. Like who’d sent professional assassins to Jillian’s home. To kidnap them? Or kill them? Kidnapping he could understand, because it would be a way to use Jillian and Lizzy as leverage against him. But killing them made no sense.

  It occurred to him that if his real identity had been uncovered, then the assassins would have come directly to his house, not Jillian’s. Which meant his current identity was safe.

  For now.

  Yet he knew his recent probing into Rick Barton’s past had not gone unnoticed. Senator Barton was a powerful man in Washington, DC, but very few knew the truth about how Barton had climbed the ranks. Hawk must have gotten close enough to discover certain information about Barton to trip someone’s suspicions.

  Almost two years had
passed since he’d begun to remember his past, yet it also felt as if it had only happened yesterday. His memory had more holes in it than Swiss cheese. He hadn’t even remembered Jillian right away. Memories and images had come to him in bits and pieces.

  He was the only special ops soldier who knew the truth about what happened in Afghanistan, and even then, he didn’t have a good memory to guide him. The other members of his team who’d been with him that fateful day were gone. Powerful men had tried to silence him once. They wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. It was up to him to expose the truth.

  Too bad he had no idea whom he could trust.

  When he finished with the fire, he stood. “I’ll make coffee.”

  Hawk went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet that housed the coffee maker. He filled the carafe with water and added scoops of coffee from the can he kept in the freezer. As the coffee dripped, he did a quick mental inventory of his house back in Brookland. He had no doubt that at some point the professional hit men would go back to the scene of their failure, eventually identifying him as the one who’d helped Jillian and Lizzy escape.

  They wouldn’t find anything personal at his place. He didn’t have a home office, preferring, instead, to work in the small space he rented in the strip mall not far from where he lived. The only information he kept at his office was related to his clients. All of his personal paperwork, most of which had been expertly forged two years ago, was kept in a safe deposit box at the bank.

  For years, he’d thought his secret was safe. Until now. How long before the hit men put two and two together to figure out that Hawk Jacobson was really James Wade?

  Based on the extensive governmental resources he believed Barton had at his disposal? Not long.

  Feeling grim, he realized they’d be forced to move locations first thing in the morning. And go where? He had no clue.

  “I can’t drink coffee this late,” Jillian said. He glanced over to find her standing on the other side of the room, her arms crossed over her chest as if she didn’t dare get too close. “But I think we need to call the police. Now. Tonight.”

  He didn’t answer, mostly because he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted, needed to tell her the truth, but this didn’t seem like the proper time or place.

  She wouldn’t appreciate his view that going to the authorities could very well be like stepping on a rotten log, allowing professional hit men to pour out like termites.

  “Calling the police is what normal people do,” Jillian insisted. “Just because you happen to be a private investigator, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t let the authorities know that two men came into my house with weapons with the intent to kill me.”

  “Actually, we don’t really know what they intended to do.”

  She scowled. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t intend to play nice with their guns.”

  It was a good point. He decided to probe further. “Does the name Senator Barton mean anything to you?”

  She blinked in confusion. “Senator Rick Barton? Not really. I mean, I know he sits on a committee related to the Department of Defense, but I can’t even tell you what state he’s from or what he looks like.”

  “He sits on the Armed Services Committee,” Hawk corrected. “He’s a senator from Virginia and happens to be good friends with Todd Hayes, the current Secretary of Defense.” He waited for some sort of recognition to dawn in her eyes, but she only shrugged.

  “Yeah, okay. That sounds right. I’m not totally up on all the players in our government, but whatever. I don’t see what either of those guys has to do with your decision to postpone calling the police.”

  “Powerful people in high places can convince the cops to turn a blind eye to what might be happening under their nose.” He hesitated, the holes in his memory making it difficult to say anything with certainty. All he remembered was seeing Major Rick Barton deep in the hills where he wasn’t supposed to be. He sensed there was more but couldn’t bring the fragments of his memory together into a full picture.

  Now she looked annoyed. “Oh, come on—” She abruptly cut off what she was about to say when Lizzy began to cry.

  “Mommy! Mommy! Bad mans are coming to get me!”

  Jillian spun on her heel and charged into the bedroom. Hawk stayed where he was, unwilling to add to Lizzy’s frightened state. He knew she’d watched him holding a gun on one of the intruders and was reliving that scary moment in her nightmares.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. He needed to think. To understand what was going on so he could plan his next steps. A good soldier always had at least one backup plan.

  Several things bothered him. Why had Barton decided to send hit men after Jillian tonight? The fact that James Wade had married her five years ago wasn’t a secret. The army knew about Jillian, they’d provided her benefits while he was overseas, and he assumed they’d provided death benefits after he’d been pronounced dead, despite how they’d obviously never found his body.

  So why now?

  And why not wait until the dead of night rather than 10:30 p.m.? The two guys had been professionals, but they were clearly not prepared to face an opponent like Hawk—someone with equal or better training than they had. Whoever provided the intel must have mentioned they were facing a grade school teacher and a four-year-old child. Not a soldier.

  The burn of anger at the thought of those two men getting their hands on Jillian and Lizzy was difficult to ignore. But anger, much like indecision, was the enemy.

  He took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. He toyed with the idea of calling Mike Callahan, a former private investigator he’d once worked with. Mike had recently gotten married and had taken a position with the sheriff’s department. Mike owed him a favor, and Hawk could easily collect. Not that he’d really have to use the favor as leverage. Hawk knew that Mike, or any of the Callahan siblings, would help him out, no questions asked. That was the type of family they were. The Callahans had welcomed him into their home and made him feel like he was one of them.

  Still, he preferred to work alone. At least for now. But he wouldn’t risk any harm coming to Jillian or Lizzy.

  What he really wanted to do was to stash Jillian and Lizzy someplace safe while he continued working the case. Should he send her to stay with the Callahans? They were about the only people he trusted. Yet at the same time, he didn’t dare let Jillian and Lizzy out of his sight.

  Not when he knew that he was the only reason they were in danger.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face, fighting a wave of exhaustion. Jillian deserved to know the truth about his real identity. Yet he worried how she’d react. Five months ago, when he’d found her, he had moved in next door as a way to help her out. He’d noticed the plain gold wedding ring on her finger without the diamond engagement ring he’d given her. That, along with her little girl, had convinced him she’d moved on with another man. He couldn’t blame her since he was legally dead.

  But he’d been wrong.

  He had a daughter. The news was stunning and he realized he should have figured it out sooner. He wanted to talk to Jillian but feared she’d be upset with him when she learned the truth. And worst of all, she might feel as if she needed to stay with him to honor their five-year-old wedding vows despite the horrible scars that grooved his face.

  She was the beauty and he was the beast. With a face that scared Lizzy. He hated knowing his own daughter was frightened of him. Yet he couldn’t change who he was. Who he’d become.

  When it was clear Jillian wasn’t returning to the kitchen to pick up the conversation where they’d left it off, he dumped the dregs of his coffee in the sink and made his way into his room.

  Tomorrow morning, he’d have several decisions to make. They’d need a new place to go and they needed to air the truth.

  If she was angry with him, then fine. He’d take her anger
over her pity any day of the week.

  * * *

  Jillian fell asleep comforting Lizzy, only to wake up at dawn with a crick in her neck.

  Stretching with a muffled groan, she eased out from Lizzy’s bed. She tiptoed out of the room to use the bathroom and then headed into the kitchen, shivering a bit in the cool air.

  There was no sign of Hawk. Clearly, he hadn’t followed through on her request to call the police.

  Even now his reluctance made no sense. But enough was enough. Better late than never, right? She went over to her purse and dug out her cell phone.

  One bar, indicating the battery was nearly dead. Great. She didn’t have a charger and, from what she could tell, there wasn’t one around here, either. The place was comfortable but rustic.

  She stared at the screen, wondering who would respond if she called 911. Surely not anyone from the Brookland Police Department, which was where the crime had taken place.

  “What are you doing?”

  Hawk’s hoarse voice was so unexpected she let out a yelp and almost dropped the phone.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.” She knew she sounded cranky, but seriously, the man needed to wear a cowbell around his neck.

  “Don’t call the police yet. Not until we talk.”

  Now he was reading her mind? Ugh. She turned the phone off to preserve what was left of her battery and tucked it into the pocket of her sweatshirt. “Talking isn’t exactly your strength,” she felt compelled to point out.

  The right corner of his mouth kicked up in what may have been the hint of a smile. The first she’d ever seen from him. “Maybe not, but you’ll want to hear my story.”

  His story? The one behind his scar? He was right about that, since she’d been wondering about his story for the past five months.

  “Sounds like we’ll need coffee.” She moved into the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee. While she did that Hawk opened a cupboard and pulled out a box of instant oatmeal packets.