Strike Back (Hawk Elite Security Book 1) Read online

  “So, you’ll what? Go start your own company? Be the boss of yourself?”

  Stacy laughed. “No.”

  “Then prove it to him. Make him see that you are an asset.” Diane got up, walked toward the door and then turned back, the cotton material of her habit swishing with the movement. “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “He probably already knows it.”

  Stacy nodded her head. It seemed so easy when her friend said it. She wasn’t so sure.

  “All-righty then. It’s all settled. Now, let’s go get lunch.”

  Stacy laughed. She hadn’t come here expecting to dump on a good friend. So she brushed aside the ache. “I’d love some lunch. What’s on the menu?”

  “Beans and rice,” her friend answered drily. “You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

  “Uh, no. Beans and rice it is.”

  Diane led her through the door, and Stacy stopped. “Hey, thanks for listening.”

  “No problem.” Diane continued down the empty hallway with Stacy at her side. The halls hadn’t changed, same smell of glue and paper, same tan paint.

  “Remember Sister Bridget?” her friend asked, her gaze going to the eight by ten frames on the wall of the priests and nuns who’d been here through the years.

  “Of course, she’s the one opposed to kissing.” Stacy laughed.

  Diane almost snorted, biting back a laugh. “Right. She came back. Retired here, with the permission of her order.”

  “Aw. It will be very good to see her. What is she now, a hundred?”

  “She’s a very sweet, senile old lady who loves the children even more than I do.”

  Stacy was happy to leave heavy thoughts behind her as they made their way to the cafeteria. And her mind wandered back to those days when she’d first met Hawk.

  ###

  “I did not signal to those men over there,” Stacy insisted for the tenth time.

  The man in front of her grunted. Hawk, they called him. Nathan Hawkins. Captain Nathan Hawkins, of…she frowned, the Army.

  And he grunted. Grunted!

  She growled and kept walking, following in his footsteps, doing her best to actually step in his large prints. The mud had seeped through her hiking boots after the first hour of the day. Getting into his tread helped, a little. He said they just had to get over the next hill and beyond the river that ran at the bottom. Beyond that the air would dry and the geography would change. The hiking would be easier.

  Of course, he didn’t mention the next hill was actually an eight-mile hike.

  After that, they’d camp for the night before they headed down to the coast. And wouldn’t that be fun, roommates with the really good-looking, rock hard hottie who was making her feel things.

  Stacy swatted at an itch on her neck and shivered when she brushed away some kind of insect.

  “What?” Hawk had turned and was stopped, towering over her.

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “You made a noise.”

  Diane stuck her face between them, wagged her eyebrows. “She likes to make noise.”

  “Diane!” After where her brain had been—wanted to be, heat rose on her cheeks.

  Diane snickered.

  Stacy frowned at her best friend. “Be quiet.”

  “She doesn’t like bugs.”

  The man’s eyebrow rose.

  “No one likes bugs, thank you very much.” She sniffed then moved to continue by him.

  He grabbed her arm, and that unfamiliar zing went straight to her gut. She was young but not too young to recognize attraction.

  “Stay in line and behind me.”

  She lifted her chin. She’d never felt this kind of turmoil, this need to disagree with someone—not even when she’d been in the prime of her adolescence.

  “Stacy.” Sister Bridget used her reprimanding tone, and her frown was one of confusion at seeing her star volunteer act so out-of-line. “Do as the man says. He is our guard, our protection. You will obey, dear.”

  “Yes, Sister. I’m sorry.”

  And she noticed that Sister Bridget seemed tired. The hike was taking it out of the woman. The heat wasn’t helping, either.

  “Let’s stop and take a break, get some water.”

  Stacy’s gaze flew to Hawk’s.

  He’d seen it, too.

  She didn’t think he’d have that insight.

  “Thank you,” she said, humbled and rightfully put in her place by the exchange.

  “We’ll start up again in ten minutes. We can’t wait any longer. I’m sorry.” Lines formed on his forehead as he frowned, and then he nodded to one of his men and they separated themselves from the group.

  Stacy wandered toward a tree near the men. They spoke in low tones, murmuring amongst themselves. It sounded bad, like someone might be following them.

  His hard features held a morsel of…concern?

  When he returned to the women, he rubbed a hand over his cleanly-shaven head. She’d never thought hairless could be attractive…until now.

  When she found him watching her, acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, Stacy quickly turned away, embarrassed to be caught—again.

  She hurried to Diane’s side.

  “What?” Diane looked to the man and back to Stacy. Then she grinned.

  “I need to stop getting caught looking at him. Help?”

  “He’s nice to look at, though.”

  Frustration sang through her blood. “So what? He’s here to do a job—guard detail for a bunch of nuns—”

  “Teachers,” Diane corrected with a wag of her brows and a grin, as if Stacy was going to forget that not everyone here was destined for celibacy.

  “Do you only ever think about sex?”

  Diane shrugged. “Of course not.” Then she grinned again, sending their fearless leader another glance.

  Stacy growled in frustration. “In another day, he’ll be gone.”

  “You could always exchange phone numbers.” Diane spoke so that no one could possibly hear her.

  Stacy still checked her surroundings. “That’s crazy. Besides, he’s driving me crazy.”

  “Mmm.”

  “What?”

  “What?” Diane said with exasperation. “What do you mean, what? Of, course he drives you crazy. You’re attracted to him. And he’s all playing the silent, brooding type…too important to like you. He likes you.”

  The thought sent her heart pounding. “You think? How can you tell? You’re making this up.”

  “He watches you. All. The. Time.” Her emphasis on those last three words made Stacy’s stomach flip from nerves. Her glance went to him.

  “Because he thinks I’m going to get us killed by signaling to strangers along the road, which I haven’t done, by the way.” Stacy scowled and dug her toe into the dirt along the side of the small road. “He thinks I’m a twit, and doesn’t trust me as far as he could throw me.”

  “I’m gonna bet he could toss you a ways.”

  Still, his disapproval stung just as much as it riled her up, so she kept to herself as they continued on their southerly route through Mexico toward the Belize border. They’d flown to the region and were redirected through Cancun at the last minute because of some unrest in the area. No one was really talking about it much.

  That’s when Diane’s dad had stepped in and hired…no, procured…no, called in a favor with these military guys. Everything had gone downhill since then. First the shock of the ride in the back of that jeep with about fifteen other locals, also traveling south.

  Instead of going straight down the coast, they’d traveled inland. But the vehicle had broken down with just miles to Chetumal and then Belize.

  “Let’s go make sure Sister is getting some water. She looked pretty worn when we stopped,” Stacy said. “Anything to get my mind of Captain Hotpants.

  Diane laughed, hard. Her friend seemed so much older, so knowledgeable, and Stacy was just… stupid, sheltered. She’d never even had a
boyfriend through high school. Of course, she was going to fall over herself for the first unobtainable male since graduating. “Stupid, stupid,” she muttered as she headed to the little area where Sister Bridget sat at the edge of the trail. “Dad would just have a fit. He’d pull your ass right out of Central America if he had even a teeny, tiny inkling that you’d lost all reason and was acting like a nincompoop over a guy. A guy! And not just any guy, either. No. You went whoohoo over this Army guy—”

  “Marines.”

  Stacy about tripped over her feet, felt the heat of his presence at her back, and quickly turned. He reached out to stop her from falling backward. She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “You,” she breathed. “You’re sneaky.”

  “Not really. You were just talking to yourself.”

  “Right.” She looked back to where she thought Diane had been following her and found her absence instead.

  “She had to relieve herself, and I assigned one of the guys to keep watch.”

  Stacy lifted a brow.

  “Of the area.”

  A laugh built inside of her as she shook her head, and she decided to ignore the fact that he now knew she had this ridiculous schoolgirl crush on him. “So, you’re a marine. Have you been a marine long?”

  “Six years.”

  “Do you do this…” She waved her hand to encompass their group. “…kind of thing often?”

  “Uh, no.” He didn’t explain further.

  “Well, Mr. Talky. I guess I’ll just go over here.” She left his side, proud of herself for not becoming speechless and incompetent. Not mortified, either. My God! She really had to quit talking to herself.

  Sister sipped from her canteen on her spot on a fallen tree trunk.

  “Talk with me.”

  Surprised, Stacy looked to the pretty nun, who had blue eyes. She wasn’t young or old, yet. Not like the nuns at her high school. “Sure,” she answered as she sat.

  “Leave the men to their jobs. We shouldn’t distract them.”

  “I’m not!” Stacy huffed. “I’m not meaning to,” she added as her conscience took over. Maybe she was subconsciously sending signals. Hello. He was good-looking, despite the brooding and the demanding manner. A sigh escaped. “You going to be okay, Sister?”

  “Me? Of, course. God gives us the strength and energy we need.”

  Stacy wasn’t sure it was energy she needed right now.

  “Time to move, ladies.” Hawk had sent one of his men to gather them up and get them moving. As they began the next leg of their trip, she couldn’t help wonder just how much of her monologue he’d heard.

  The way he avoided her as they reached Belize?

  She’d bet he heard most of it.

  Chapter Eight

  Stacy ran with determined energy, never using the same route twice. Careful. Trained. Today she ran inward, toward the hills, and with just minutes into her run, she caught up to Michael.

  “Hey,” she said, slowing just a little. “Good morning.”

  “Señora!” He grinned, standing with his hands on his hips. “Shall we run?”

  “Why not?” There was a shrug involved, one that came from that part of her that knew she was flirting with danger, the danger of losing her heart, of losing her respect.

  She’d never, in seventeen years, looked for friendship outside of her marriage. She’d never had to, and she’d been raised with strict rules about friendships with men. On the other hand, she hadn’t looked this time either.

  Shut up, Stacy. You’re borrowing trouble that doesn’t exist.

  She was friends with Jamie and most of the men on the team. And she liked them a lot more than she liked Michael, who was still a practical stranger.

  “You are thinking too much for a morning run,” Michael bumped her shoulder with his own. “Put it aside. We will run, carefree of our concerns. Later is soon enough for the rest.”

  With a small smile, she picked up the speed on the trail that lead in a southwesterly direction out of the resort and into the surrounding jungle.

  Companionable silence was just fine with her. A nice break from Hawk’s chatter when they ran together. Her man liked to talk while he ran. Drove her crazy. Drove her in love, too, though.

  As they rounded a corner, two large birds flew up out of the underbrush. With a yell, Stacy ducked and came to a quick stop, her breathing harsh—more because of the scare than the run. “Jiminy cricket.”

  Michael grabbed her arm, and for an instant, the instinct to fight blasted through her.

  “Look. Something there,” Michael whispered, and then in the most unexpected way, put himself between her and the edge of the trail. His suspicious look around had her heart pounding.

  And she really looked. “A body.” Stark fear did course through her now. And she moved toward the body.

  He stopped her. “No. We’ll call the police.”

  “What if he’s alive and needs help?”

  Michael’s glance went back to the lifeless body and with a shake of his head, he found her gaze. “That poor fellow is dead. Shot in the chest.”

  He rubbed a hand on her arm. She found it an unwanted comfort, though, and stepping away, Stacy took her phone and called the police.

  “I don’t feel right leaving the body. That bird was messing with it. Whoever it is deserves better.” She couldn’t stop her eyes from veering back to the body. “He looks so young.”

  Michael took off his little windbreaker and stepped through the growth.

  Stacy followed, not wanting to be left behind, and then she gasped. “Thomas,” she whispered at the sight of her young friend lying on the ground, and she hurried to his side. Funny how the dead body wasn’t so creepy when she knew who it was. Knowing didn’t change the gaping hole in his chest. “Oh, no. No.”

  Agony ripped through her. Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone again. “No, no, no.”

  “Hola, Stacy,” Jamie answered right away.

  A lump had formed in her throat and she couldn’t speak.

  “What?” he asked sharply. “What’s the matter?”

  Michael had come close and rested a hand on her shoulder. She gripped it as she stood. “It’s Thomas, Jamie. He’s dead.”

  “What? Where are you?”

  “I’m on the trails behind the resort.” Talking with him eased some of the panic, and then the police arrived, leading Michael away and gesturing for her to do the same. “The police are here.”

  “I’m ten minutes out on a boat, but I’m coming.”

  “Can you just meet me at the resort? I’m—I need to go back.”

  “Stay with the police, Stacy. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I can’t. The police are here; I’ll be safe. I promise.” Biting her lip, she took one last look at the young man who had been so proud to be working and taking care of his family. Anger burned low in her gut. Who would do this?

  “Are you okay?” Michael put an arm over her shoulders, and she leaned.

  “He’s just a couple years older than my John. So young.”

  Michael frowned, nodding his head. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your suite.”

  The police stopped them, and she gave her statement, noting just how cold and unfeeling it seemed. She’d just been running. A day like any other day. She was supposed to be tough enough to take the hits and keep fighting. Hawk worried about women in the field.

  “No,” she whispered to herself. “No. I can handle anything.”

  As she and Michael made their way back to the resort, she felt herself pulling away from his connection. It wasn’t ungratefulness; she really did appreciate that he’d been there. But the incident made her see. She’d gone from relying on Hawk to looking for someone else to rely on.

  When they got to the resort and stood in the lobby, she leaned in and gave Michael a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Michael.”

  He briefly cupped her cheek with a sad smile. “Will you be okay?”

  “Yes. I just need to
go…find Thomas’ mother, I think.” Tears formed in her eyes, surprising her, and she brushed them away. “Offer my condolences, my sympathies.”

  With a nod, Michael stepped back. “You’re a good woman, Stacy Hawkins.”

  She laughed, bitterly, not sure that was true anymore. The whole incident had her off-balance, wondering who her allies were, where she was supposed to find her inner strength to handle this kind of horror. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll check on you later. Dinner by the pool?”

  “Maybe.”

  He gestured with his head. “Go.”

  And she did, hurrying back to her little bungalow on the water, where when she dialed Hawk, there was no answer. She knew Jamie was coming over so she showered, wanting to forget, wanting to understand. She rinsed the stink of her run and of death from her skin. The shock was wearing off, and the questions were starting to formulate.

  Dressing quickly, she went to find something to eat and found Jamie in her kitchen, apron around his waist.

  “Hey, Hawk gave you a key.”

  “Yup,” he answered. “You hungry?”

  Because he was family. And she needed family right now, which he knew. “Sure. Thanks.”

  He slid the sautéed vegetables to a plate, lifted a colander from the small pot, and dumped a pile of angel hair pasta on top of it. A slab of butter later, and he pushed the plate her way.

  “You sure you don’t want to get married?” she asked, teasing him.

  “And have my best friend rip my heart out with his bare hands? No thanks. I’m good.”

  He was keeping things light for her, only she didn’t want to be handled with kid gloves, any more. Ever. She banged her hands down on the flat surface. “Who? Who would do this, Jamie? He was just a kid.”

  “He was close to the killer—physically. Burn marks from the barrel on his skin.”

  She flinched. “So, he probably knew him, to let a man with a gun get that close.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you contacted his mother?”

  Jamie’s shoulder’s slumped. “Not yet. The police were doing their thing, contacting next of kin, and I needed to be here. And really, I don’t know what to say.”

  “What are the police saying?”

  “Looks like a robbery gone bad. They went back to his apartment and the place was trashed, nothing valuable left. No money. I’d just paid him…” he trailed off, his hand gripping the spatula still in his hand. “He was a good kid.”