Hawke (Protective Hero: Noble Network #2)

Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

K inley heard the melodic chirping of the mourning doves outside of her window. Golden hues cast shadows across the floor. She stretched and tiptoed to the window, pulling the curtain aside. Tangerine and splashes of cotton candy pink hues painted the sky behind the majestic Colorado Rocky Mountains. She reached high and elongated her muscles; she’d slept like a log all night.

Stress had a way of doing that to her lately. All of it was so foreign; usually the stress of a trial energized her. This was having the opposite effect.

There was a tap at the door. Her gaze darted around the room—one of the dogs wasn’t there anymore, which meant someone had let him out. Kinley remembered she couldn’t lock the door because there wasn’t one. She wrapped the quilt around her shoulders. The dog still practically attached to her side pounced off the bed. Assuming a defensive position, it growled when the door creaked open.

“Ma’am, I don’t want to disturb you, but I have some coffee.” The door opened enough to show a cup in hand.

She inhaled the rich, robust aroma tantalizing her senses. “Come on in.” She pulled her hair away from her face and into a scrunchie. “Can you please call me Kinley?”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean Miss Kinley.” The guy lumbered across the room and handed her a coffee.

“Thank you.” She wrestled with the covers to free her hand and took another whiff as it wafted through the air. “I’m a wreck without my morning caffeine, and yours is a kicker.”

“I hear ya, but watch out. It’s even stronger today.” He nodded and backed away, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “We have a few things to do this morning. Tiny’s out with Champ checking the perimeter. They’ve been out there since zero dark thirty, so I better get this lug out and do the same. We’re expecting a call advising us where to go next. So, lounge around for a while and we can fill our gullets after. Until then, there’s a full pot of coffee and an energy bar on the kitchen table. Time to beat feet.” He spun around and made a clicking sound for the dog to follow.

She lifted her hand to give him a wave, but as quick as he was there, he was gone. She closed her eyes and inhaled the coffee. All this sitting around doing nothing was exhausting. She never ever felt that way working. Her 12 to 14-hour days were stimulating. She shifted and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Poor defenseless woman with too much time on her hands,” she said with a little snark under her breath. Annoyance swelled in her core, but she inhaled deep and sat up, pulling her shoulders back. Get a grip . “Stop it. Don’t you dare feel sorry for yourself. Prove them wrong,” she said a little louder. “That’s what you do. You must be as positive as you can. It’s the only thing you can control. Prove all the naysayers wrong. Show Daddy and his boys’ club you don’t need him or his money. And never be a feeble, weak-kneed damsel in distress.”

Her mantra served her purpose, even in this situation, fueling the fire in her belly.

“You’ll get out of this situation too.” Kinley pop tarted herself off the bed and walked to the window. She pulled the heavy drape aside and wiped the condensation off the window. They were somewhere rural; the mountains were a great place to hide, away from it all.

After moving here from the rat race of New York, then the D.C. area, she never tired of the beauty and tranquility of the mountains. Every day, the skies were awe-inspiring. She looked down at her fluffy wool socks and flannel oversized jammies and knew she’d have to get used to the casual flair instead of her business suits, pearls, and pencil skirts. She’d replaced days of Chanel No. 5 with bar soap, Lysol, and poopurri.

Kinley bit at what was left of her well-manicured nails. “I guess that’s one way to save money since I’m furloughed.” She downed the last of her cup of coffee and ransacked the duffel bag for a pair of unisex sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Another day, just like the rest, of being a slob kebob.

The thought seemed superficial and petty when her life was in peril. There would be no need for materialistic things. Today’s choice would be navy and the only belonging she’d snatched before they whisked her away. She hauled her selection out the door and into the hallway bathroom.

Hawke inhaled the cool autumn breeze. The leaves hadn’t turned their colors yet; he remembered the colors being vibrant when they’d driven through the last time. It was still early, but in another month a cold front would come through, changing the landscape.

He walked the perimeter of Cade’s property—he needed air. Everyone was tooling around the kitchen after Journey Honeycutt, the wife of Jax, the Winslow’s cousin, had arrived with a minivan full of grub to feed an army. He knocked on the door of the mobile unit and Jeffrey Richards swung the door wide.

Ryker and Luca and two of the newer team members were practically busting the unit open at the seams. The guys needed to get down to business ASAP; he was just waiting for a couple more calls from the team.

Hawke leaned into the unit. “Ry and Luca, come here a minute?” He waved them outside. He needed the walk and talk thing; he was almost jumping out of his skin. The knot now twisted his gut, and he needed to know the where, the who, and all the info. He didn’t like not being prepared and one step ahead. “Any news?” He looked over his shoulder to the guys who were a few paces behind.

“Nah, Richards said any time, but he’s waiting on the call. Assume it would be any minute.”

Hawke stretched his arms over his head, lacing his fingers together. “Boss said I’m up to bat with the ward. What the hell? She knows I’m better off doing what I do, and not babysitting someone. Perhaps I can talk to her. I can do everything else. Why me?”

“You scared, Hawke?” Richards headed closer. He chuckled and raised a brow. “Too late. Specific orders: it’s you and if you try to pawn off your ward, there will be repercussions for anyone with Noble Network. The boss said knowing you, you might try.”

“You’re shitting me. This isn’t a game.”

“Damn right, it isn’t. You know that better than I do. Your ward is depending on you and I’m learning from you on this team. I’m amazed at what you’ve accomplished.” Richards gave him a quick nod.

“You got that right. But this is a new level, seeing you squirm, Hawke. Shoe’s on the other foot.” Ryker said and jabbed Luca in the ribs. “Can’t wait for a front and center, maybe see how this plays out.”

“You.” Hawke shook his pointer as he chomped his back molars.

That’s all he had, his pointer finger. He wasn’t afraid of anything, but…maybe a few things. Only one had him shaking in his kickers. He was more comfortable with tasks that kept him an arm’s length away from getting too close to get burned.

Hawke rubbed the skin along his tattoos and took a seat by the fire pit. Memories flooded back until he flung them away. He realigned his steel fortress, soldiered them back up. Weakness and vulnerability were the thing that could get him killed. Hawke had almost lost his best bud recently. CJ’s situation was a decade-long mission, and before that Hunter, Gunner’s brother and his military brother, had vanished.

The discharge had gotten him nowhere fast. He had been a head case until Noble Network Security saved his ass, in more ways than one. His life was always on to the next thing, just the way he liked it. He was focused on the future, not in the rearview mirror of the past. He was a soldier with no war to fight but his own.

“Ryker, you think it’s funny?” Hawke gave him the stare down. “Your turn will happen sooner or later, and payback will give you a swift kick in your ass.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You should be. Ry, we almost lost Gunner.”

“Come on, I hear you and sure as shit, it scares me, like any of our cases. This time it’s on you. Maybe you will end up like Gunner and CJ?”

Hawke rocketed out of his seat, his chair kicked back on two of its legs and teetering against the table. “Don’t you dare even hint. It may have worked out for them, but I’m not them. I don’t do romance,” Hawke said with an edge, making sure Ryker didn’t miss the memo. If he did, he’d play on the military rank. “I still outrank you, Ry.”

Ryker snapped rod iron straight. “Geez, what has you all riled up? Usually you’re stoked for new missions.”

“I am perfectly fine in the peripheral. Comfortable watching everyone’s back, not to be the center with whoever they are.”

Ryker scratched his chin. “Do we know who it is? Let me ask you something. Would you be feeling this way if your ward was a guy? Or is it the threat of it being a woman?”

Hawke raised his shoulders at Ryker. “You know, that’s it. I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe if it’s she, she might be fugly. You can think of her as a dude and there will be peace and order again. For all our sake.”

“One could hope.” Hawke grabbed a beer and handed Ryker his. They clinked their drinks. “Tonight, we have fun. Kick a few back. Eat some good food and sleep for twelve hours. Tomorrow is going to happen either way.”

Ryker nodded. “Here’s to a fugly.”

Hawke rolled his eyes and sat back into his chair, putting his shit kickers on the table. He said a silent prayer, because no matter how tough he was, in his off time, a beautiful woman always got his attention and had the upper hand.

Shit . Better not go soft or you’ll end up unemployed or ten feet under.

Kinley looked around the room and put the rest of her stuff into the duffel bag. In a few minutes, they would be heading somewhere new. She glanced at herself again in the mirror. Her face was clean of her favorite products. She tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted the ball cap, then slipped on dollar store shades. Wearing baggy clothes, sweats, and no makeup had such deep meanings in her childhood and throughout her profession as a woman in a man’s world. She didn’t recognize the person staring back at her, but there was something so oddly freeing about it. All she had to do was lean into her new look, follow the program, and she’d stay alive.

“We’re ready to hit the road, ma’am,” her guard, Jett, said.

She gave him a look and tilted her head to the side.

“I mean Miss K.”

“If that’s the best you can do, I’ll take it.”

He swung his arm forward to direct her through the kitchen and toward the front entrance. “Time to move out.”

She swung her bag over her shoulder and nodded.

“We’ve checked the perimeter. This is as good a time as any to hit the road. We have a few hours before we switch vehicles and we’re taking the long way back around to the drop-off.”

“Sounds like a lot of work to me. There hasn’t been anyone following us, has there?”

“Doesn’t matter. Trust the process. We’ve been doing this kind of stuff in the private sector for years and we’re used to recon in the service.”

“That’s what I’ve been told. But aren’t we going to a lot of trouble for me?”

“Not to the people who care about you. We’re the delivery service. Your handler is the one who’s in charge of everything else.”

“So, you won’t be there?” Kinley asked.

“Of course, but someone else will call the shots. We all have one mission: you.”

Kinley walked close behind and stopped in surprise, witnessing two additional vehicles—one big black tank of an SUV with tinted windows and a Mustang—and another three men. “We have company?”

He opened the door to the SUV. “We work in teams; more eyes are better.”

Kinley exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath. She whipped her head in one direction, then again. “There were only two guards before you arrived.”

“You sure about that?” he snickered. “You see what’s in front of you, but most of the time we have other team members watching. We get to know where we are up close and personal, but the people you don’t see are watching us and other threats. You know the old saying, don’t put all your eggs in one basket? We’re like the Easter bunny. We’re everywhere, hiding.”

“Oh…” She bit her top lip. Kinley’s pulse raced. If this wasn’t the real deal, it got close. She scanned the second set of guys, making sure she kept her sunglasses in place, daring not to make eye contact. There was an intense crackle to the environment. None of them smiled.

The handler who had checked on her the past few days directed her to the SUV, opening the back door. The German shepherd jumped into the vehicle and leaped into the back, followed by the other dog. She directed her gaze to the guard. “Are you coming?”

“I’m in back. Buckle up. Tiny’s driving.”

The Mustang pulled away and she wondered how those two bodyguards were able to fit in there. One of them seemed oddly familiar. The engine revved as they pulled away from the small cabin.

Mile after mile, hour after hour, she suspected they were driving in circles—sometimes the mountains would be to her left, then her right. Landscapes appeared familiar. Her legs were falling asleep with one dog draped over her lap. She ran her fingers through the silky fur, giving her some comfort in the world of unknowns. She looked back to the guard and started to say something, then decided she wouldn’t.

He answered as if she asked. “Not much longer, ma’am,” he said with a nod.

Kinley swiveled back into her seat, took her sunglasses off and shifted her ball cap lower, then rested her head against the side window. If she was lucky, she’d fall asleep.

“We’ve got a tail. Two motorcycles. Wait, another two joined them.”

Kinley popped at attention and shot up into her seat. She clutched the back of the driver’s seat as the SUV swerved onto a gravel road.

“Yep, still on us.” The guard in back threw something over the seat. “Here, put this on. It’s a protective vest. Once you get it secure, put one on the dog, I’ll do the same. Tiny? Where’s yours?”

“What’s happening, Jett? And who in the hell is the big ass vehicle joining the parade?”

Tiny punched the gas. “Talk to me, partner. Have you heard if it’s one of ours?”

“I don’t think it’s a friendly. I’ll check. I’m about to bag a bandit with my Jammin Jenny.” Jett yelled over the roar of the engine to Tiny the driver.

“Hang fire, Jett. We have a parade behind us. Not only the Triple Ds, but a four-wheeler with the pedal to the metal. Okay, got it. See you at the checkpoint.”

Kinley needed a handbook for military lingo, though at the moment, guns, bad guys, and high-speed pursuit was all she needed to understand.

The tires screeched. “Not one of ours. Hats up.” Tiny whipped the wheel in another direction and hit the ditch. Clumps of tall grass flew at the windshield. Rocks and debris dinged the undercarriage.

Kinley braced herself, clutching the dog.

“I think whoever it is, they are redirecting their energies at the bikes. Did you see it swerve at them?”

“We’re not going to stick around and find out. Miss Lincoln, hang tight and keep low,” Jett shouted over his shoulder.

Kinley spun around and pried her hands from the front seats. “Trying to run the motorcycles off the road?”

“Appears that way, but we can’t take any chances.”

Tiny yelled over his shoulder to Jett. “Hawke and the gang said there’s a change of plans. We’re no longer headed to the DEA’s place. He’s sending the coordinates. Grab onto anything that isn’t bolted down. This could backfire.”

Kinley checked her seat belt and pulled the dog on the floorboard between her knees. She hunkered down, bracing herself for the unknown. “It’s okay, sweet pea.” She clung to the dog more for her own sanity. Its eyes were bulging out of its sockets, but there was something calming about the beast. The vehicle swung around, and she bounced this way and that. Dust seeped into her lungs as tires spun over gravel, and a sick feeling overtook her stomach like her younger days at a theme park as the vehicle dipped and swayed.

“Holy buckets. We’re going airborne. Hang on. It’s a face off—let’s see whose chicken,” Tiny hollered.

They stopped, and everything shifted. Kinley smelled exhaust and coughed, not daring to see what was happening.

“It’s a showdown. The vehicle is picking off some of the bikes. Time to get the fuck out of dodge,” Jett stated.

Tiny hit the gas and Kinley flew back in her seat from the force, the dog hurdling onto her lap. She spit fur from her lips. They were heading straight for a solo bike with a familiar-looking SUV the size of a tank barreling for them. Her life flashed in front of her. Is this it? Everything sounded muffled except for the throbbing pulse in her neck.

Tiny whipped the vehicle to the ditch at the last minute and took off into a field. She hit the side panel of the door, her feet bouncing on the seat and tangling around the creature. Fifty pounds of fur and legs were using her as a trampoline. The dog whimpered and whined at each painful jolt. She winced at each blow and whispered, “It’s okay, I got you, sweetness. Nothing’s going to happen to you.” She loosened her grip and ran a soothing hand along the dog’s back. It was her turn to stand guard, as the dog once had for her. She repeated the words more to convince herself. “It’s going to be okay.” She closed her eyes and nestled the dog closer, kissing it on the ear.

The guard in back shouted to the driver. “Hawke’s en route. We’re close to our meeting point. We dispatched another team to clean up this mess. The rookie will run interference. I didn’t see any numbers on the plates. It’s personalized with a logo. I took a snapshot—there’s an insignia. We meet up with Hawke. He’s taking the package to another drop spot.”

Kinley wiggled free and scooched into a half-sitting position, but the dog didn’t move. She pressed her hands across her face to wipe away the sweat, dog drool, and dust bunnies. She jerked and yelped when she felt a tapping on her shoulder, only to be nose to nose with the other canine. She gulped for air as she fought off her adrenaline-induced boohoo fest.

“Miss K, how we are doing?”

She wiped her eyes. “Dandy.” Her voice was raspy, so she cleared her throat and sat up a little taller in her seat. “Still in one piece, I think.” She glanced at her limbs. “Yes, still here.”

She focused ahead and saw the driver looking at her through the rearview mirror. “Sorry about the bumpy ride. Hawke’s on his way. You won’t have to worry about anything when he’s on the job.” He nodded and she gave one in return.

“I hope so,” she said under her breath and looked out the window. I really hope so. The Triple D motorcycle club was demented and after her. How did they find us? She struggled to swallow. It was one thing to fight them in the court of law, but out here, head-to-head, was surreal. She had seen first-hand what happened to people they didn’t like.