Shadow Hawk (10 page)

He smiled back. “Serena.”

Serena tossed back her long, thick hair and crossed her arms, which as she undoubtedly knew, plumped up her substantial breasts from a D-plus to at least a triple-F. “My my. I guess hell froze over?”

“If you only knew.” Hawk's smile remained easy and charming, and completely confident in the manner of a man who always got his own way. “Do you have a room available?”

“
Two
rooms,” Abby clarified.

“One,” Hawk repeated.

“Two, or nothing,” Abby said through her teeth.

Hawk sighed. “Connecting. We'll take connecting rooms.”

Serena divided a glance between them, then tossed back her head and laughed. “Oh, boy, Hawk. I think you've finally met your match.”

S
TANDING IN THE
pre-dawn chill, Abby craned her neck and stared at Hawk. She'd thought tonight couldn't get any more Twilight Zone–like. “Your match?”

“Serena has a very peculiar sense of humor.” He shot Serena a long look. “Any second now she's going to let us in off her doorstep and put us in a room, and then go far, far away.”

Serena smiled but didn't budge. “Oh, but this is so much more fun. So.” She turned to Abby. “You been dating him long?”

Abby opened her mouth to correct that impression, but Serena went on. “No, it can't have been too long, because, after all, you're still with him.” She grinned at herself. “That means you haven't discovered his character flaws yet.”

Next to Abby, Hawk let out a sigh.

Abby shook her head at Serena. “You've gotten the wrong idea—”

“Oh, believe me, honey. I know how hard it is to give him up.”

Abby doubted that greatly. Hawk was a handful, not to mention most likely walking/talking heartbreak. She could give him up just like that.

Probably.

“It's a little like walking away from double-fudge chocolate cake, isn't it?” Serena asked. “Harder than anything, but in the end, you save yourself the bellyache.”

“I'm not all that fond of chocolate cake in the first place,” Abby replied.

Serena let out a deep laugh. “You know what? I like you already.” She elbowed Abby. “At least the sex is off the charts amazing, right?”

“Can we focus?” Hawk asked, sounding pained.

Off the charts? Abby had little reference for “off the charts amazing.” She didn't want to know, she reminded herself. Okay, mostly didn't want to know….

Ah, hell. She wanted to know.

“If we could just get a room,” Hawk said.

“Two,” Abby corrected. “
Two
rooms.” No off the charts sex today, thank you very much.

Serena looked at Hawk, and at whatever she saw in his face, maybe it was the grim set of his jaw, or, gee, maybe the cut over his eye, she nodded, stepped back and gestured them into the inn.

The main room was large and had a fire going, which Abby headed directly toward. Serena held Hawk back. “Sorry about the heckling,” she said softly. “I couldn't seem to help myself.”

“Forget it.”

“Are you all right?”

“I will be.”

Abby turned back to see her touch Hawk's cheek, her smile now tinged with fondness and some lingering heat. “Anything you need?”

“In spite of my character flaws?” he asked her drily, but he patted her hand with his.

Serena smiled and hugged him, the gesture warm and familiar, the affection unmistakable. “Food?” she asked.

“Sleep.”

She nodded. “And a change of clothes.”

“That would be—”

“Off the charts amazing?” Serena let out a low laugh. “Sorry about that, couldn't resist.”

And Hawk blushed.

Blushed
.

Huh
. If Abby had set her sights on Hawk, which she so hadn't, she might have been flooded with jealousy at the obvious ease and warmth between them. As it was, she felt nothing.

Liar, liar pants on fire…

She concentrated on the pretty room. The hardwood floors were scarred and covered in throw rugs, the furniture was well used but large and very comfortable looking. Butter-colored walls carried old-fashioned black-and-white pictures from the Wild West. She stuck her hands out to the flames, listening to Hawk and Serena murmur to each other behind her. After a moment, he settled a hand on her shoulder, gesturing for her to come with him, and they headed out of the large room behind Serena, whose hips sashayed beneath that silky robe.

She obviously wasn't wearing anything beneath it.

Abby glanced at Hawk, sure he'd be staring at that lush body, but he was looking right at her. “You okay?” he murmured.

She nodded. She was okay. Maybe even more okay than she'd imagined.

Serena led them upstairs, down a hallway to the last door on the right, which she opened. Hawk nudged Abby in, and though she was drawn to the small but quaint bedroom with its huge rustic wood bed piled high in fluffy bedding, she immediately turned back. “This is one room.”

“And a bathroom.” Serena pointed to a door.

“But—”

Serena looked at Hawk, then back to Abby. “It's the only room available, hon, sorry.”

She was lying. For Hawk's sake. Abby looked at his shirt. Most of the blood had been on the outer shirt, which he'd left in the truck, but there were still some dubious dark stains on his black ATF T-shirt as well.

Why wasn't she telling Serena she needed to use the phone, that she needed help?

Because there was a voice deep inside that said Hawk could be right. That Gaines was lethal, deadly, dangerous.
That
thought made it hard for her to breathe so she did her damnedest not to think at all.

After a minute, Serena left them alone, and when Hawk shut the door, silence reverberated around them nearly as loud as one of the explosions they'd lived through last night.

One room.

One bed.

One really beautiful, lush-looking bed that in no time at all was going to be holding a tall, leanly muscled man who drew her like no one else ever had.

But she didn't want to be drawn.

He let out a low laugh and kicked off his shoes. “You're thinking pretty loudly.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be. But let's just say I can tell you're still half convinced you need to call the cops on me.”

Not half, but certainly an eighth…“So who's Serena, a girlfriend?”

“An old friend.”

“She didn't touch you like a friend.”

That brought a ghost of a smile. She realized now that he'd put on that carefree, easygoing air for Serena, because he was not in a joking, light-hearted mood at all. “Jealous?”

“Ha,” she said, without any real rancor behind it. Just when she thought she had him all figured out, he revealed another side.

Who the hell was he?

Proving he had more layers than an onion, Hawk pulled out her cell and checked on Logan's status again, clearly concerned. “I need to talk to him,” he said to someone on the phone, then paused and frowned. “Yes, I realize he's gravely injured, but—” Listening, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, thank you.” He disconnected. “Damn it. No change.”

“But he's alive,” she reminded him.

“True enough.” He punched in a different number.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling his cell.”

“But he won't—”

“No, but someone else might.”

“Like who?”

“Like whoever is at his side—hello,” Hawk said into the phone, looking surprised. “Who's this? Logan's nurse? Perfect. This is Conner Hawk, his partner, and—oh.” He paused. “You know about me—he was awake?” He nodded. “Yeah, we're family. How is he?” After a few seconds, he visibly relaxed. “You've just made my day, Callen—no, I understand the severity of his injuries but, see, he's going to recover. Yeah, trust me, best news I've had in hours. Can I talk to him? It's urgent—” He listened intently. “Yeah, I heard him. Tell him to watch his six. It's in danger, too.” He paused again. “Right. And no visitors. None, not even a high-ranking ATF official, can you manage that? Yeah, I'm serious. This is serious. As serious as it gets.”

“Hawk. A nurse won't stop Gaines.”

“Callen,” Hawk said without missing a beat. “I need to get him moved. What are the chances of that?” He stalked the length of the room, his long legs churning up the space in two strides before he had to spin to walk again. “Yeah. It's life or death. Logan's life or death—yes, that would do it. Switch his chart, change his name. Disguise him, if you have to. Hell, put him where he won't be expected. No, definitely away from the ER—” He smiled. “Yeah. That'll work.”

“Where?” Abby asked.

Hawk grinned. “Maternity,” he whispered to her. “Callen? He's going to fight this. Tell him too fucking bad.” He listened again, then nodded. “Okay. And tell him—” He stopped smiling. “Tell him to get his sorry ass healed, that's his job now. That I'll be there in a few hours. And thanks. I owe you more than you'll ever know.” He shut the phone, then stood there for a long moment.

“Hawk?”

He looked at her. “He's bad off.”

Shocked at an urge to wrap her arms around him, she hugged herself instead. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“But still, he made sure I got the message.”

“Message?”

“Someone called, said he was Logan's boss. Asked about his status.”

“Tibbs.”

“No southern accent.”

As she processed that, he went on. “And then Tibbs did call, complete with accent. To tell him that they found a body at the barn. Unidentifiable, because it's burned beyond recognition. It's still crazy up there, the fire is uncontrolled, but they're presuming it's Gaines. Do you want the first shower?”

“No, we need my laptop, Hawk. We should go now.” It would give her one answer at least, and she needed that.

“We'll get there.” He began tossing the contents of his pockets to the nightstand—her cell phone…the handcuffs. He pulled off his shirt, which left him standing there in dangerously low-slung jeans and a pair of socks, which he toed off.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Stripping,” he said as if that was the most natural thing in the world to be doing.

“Yes, but—”

Every breath he took seemed to threaten the decency level of his waistband. There was a gap between the denim and the most amazing six-pack abs she'd ever seen. In another time and place there was no way she could have resisted shoving her hand down that gap to go treasure hunting.

Well, except for one thing.

She'd never been that bold a day in her life.

He reached for the buttons on the Levi's. “I'm going to shower. Tell me I don't need to worry while I'm in there.”

Pop went the first button on his jeans.

Pop went the second button.

Oh, God. He'd revealed a wedge of skin that was paler than the skin covering his chest and belly. “Um—”

Eyes serious but warm, he mercifully stopped the unbuttoning. “Look, I just want a shower and some shut-eye. I can sleep on the floor, you can have the bed, I don't care. I just have to recharge for a few hours, that's all. Tell me you're not going to steal the truck, Ab.”

“You mean the truck that
you
stole first—”

Hawk acknowledged that with a slight nod of his head. “I just need to know you and that truck are going to be here when I get out.”

“Because you need my computer.”

“Because I don't need to come out to be surrounded by the cops.”

Pop.

She couldn't help it. Maybe once she'd been brave, but all that courage had left her, and she covered her eyes.

“Abby?” She felt him shift closer, and then his big, callused palms slid up and down her limbs in a gesture that was somehow soothing, yet made her want to leap right out of her skin. “Hey,” he whispered. “Don't give up on me now.” Up and down. Down and up.

The cold she'd felt only minutes ago had deserted her entirely.
What was the matter with her?
She opened her eyes and found her vision filled with his torso, the light from the lamp behind him blocked out by his broad shoulders. She had no idea what it was about a naked male chest that spun her wheels, had no idea such a shallow thing even could, but there it was. Lust, pure and simple, buzzed through her system and made her punch drunk.

“We're so close,” he murmured, apparently clueless to what his hands were doing to her.

Yes. Yes, she was. Close to orgasmic bliss.

“After a quick catnap, we get your laptop,” he said. “And then we draw out Gaines.”

She dropped her gaze. Took in the scar over one pec. Without thinking, she ran a finger over it, eliciting a low sound from him.

“Abby.” His voice was hoarse. “What are you doing?”

She had no idea. “Just standing here.” She jerked her hand away from him.

“You were touching me. Looking at me. Like you wanted a bite of me.”

“No.”
Yes.

Backing away, he lifted his hands in the air, then turned from her, once again shoving his fingers in his short hair. His unbuttoned jeans had slid down, revealing a line of black cotton and a sleek spine that was as edible as the rest of him.