straight for Jillian’s house. No! Hawk sprang into action. Armed with a knife and a gun, yet hoping not to use either, he silently let himself out of his house. Picking the second man who was still standing on the driveway as his target, he stealthily approached from behind. With surprise on his side, he took him down, hitting him in the back of the head and rendering him unconscious. With one hostile out of commission, he went searching for the other.
The front door of Jillian’s house was ajar, and he hated knowing the guy had breached her personal space. Years of military training enabled Hawk to move silently down the hall. The gunman was hovering between the two bedroom doorways, as if unsure which one to try first. Indecision was his enemy. Hawk grabbed him from behind, covered the guy’s mouth and took him roughly to the ground and held his gun at his temple.
“Who sent you?” Hawk asked in a harsh whisper. “Why are you here?”
The man’s eyes, which Hawk could see from the round openings of the ski mask, showed no emotion. The hostile didn’t make a sound, apparently too well-trained to talk. Hawk was about to knock the guy unconscious when a slight movement caught his eye. The door to the second bedroom was open a crack and he saw Lizzy’s frightened face peering out at him.
He froze, wishing more than anything that the little girl didn’t look so terrified. Was she afraid of the gun? Probably, but he couldn’t risk hiding it from her. “It’s okay,” he called softly. “It’s me. Hawk.”
She quickly closed the door. With a frustrated sigh, Hawk pressed on the man’s twin carotid arteries to put him to sleep, making sure he was unconscious but not dead. He took a moment to lift the ski mask, but the man’s face wasn’t familiar. Hawk didn’t recognize him. Leaving him be, Hawk rose to his feet and lightly rapped on Jillian’s door. “Jillian? It’s Hawk. I’m coming in.”
“Hawk?” Jillian’s voice was sleepy. “What are you doing here?”
Entering her room felt wrong, but there wasn’t a moment to waste. The two hostiles wouldn’t stay unconscious forever. “I stopped two guys from trying to kill you. Get up. We need to leave.”
“What are you talking about?” She sounded grumpy. “What two men? I can’t leave. Lizzy’s asleep.”
“No, she’s not. I just saw her. One man is on the driveway near the front door, the other is just outside your room. Hurry. I’ll get Lizzy while you throw some stuff together. But don’t pack like this is a vacation, we’re traveling light.”
“But...”
Hawk was done talking. He turned and made his way to Lizzy’s room, stepping carefully over the body on the floor. He pressed again on the guy’s neck to give them more time, then reached for the door of the second bedroom and opened it. “Lizzy? It’s Hawk. I know you’re scared, but you and your mom need to come with me, okay?”
Lizzy didn’t answer. Not that he really expected her to. He stood for a moment, sweeping his gaze over the area. Lizzy’s bed was empty. There was a small desk, a dollhouse, a closet and dresser. She must be hiding in fear, likely in the closet or under the bed.
The bed. He dropped to his hands and knees, pressed his cheek to the floor. “Lizzy, your mom is waiting for us. We need to go.”
A muffled sob was the only sound she uttered.
His heart squeezed painfully in his chest, but he forced himself to ignore it. There was no time to waste. He reached under the twin bed, found her arm and tugged. She resisted, but the little girl was no match for him. He gently pulled her out and gathered her stiff body into his arms. She clutched a tattered brown teddy bear against her pink fleece footie pajamas, like a shield.
“I’m sorry, Lizzy. But we have to go.” He carried her to the next room, where a grim-faced Jillian was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, tossing items into an overnight duffel bag.
“Lizzy.” She held out her arms for her daughter and Lizzy practically jumped to get away from him, grabbing onto her mother and clinging like a baby monkey.
He told himself not to take it personally as he slung the duffel over his shoulder and cupped Jillian’s elbow in his hand. “Grab coats for you and Lizzy. We’ll take my car.”
“I’m not sure—” She stopped abruptly when she saw the man lying in the hallway. “Who? What? Oh my—” She looked as if she might scream, so he cut her off.
“Later. We need to be quiet in case there are others nearby.” Hawk steered her around the body. The man groaned, indicating they were running out of time.
In the kitchen, Jillian snagged her purse from the counter. They paused long enough to grab winter gear, especially for Lizzy. There hadn’t been time to change her out of her pajamas, but that didn’t stop Jillian from putting winter boots on her daughter. Hawk waited impatiently, desperate to get them out of the house.
Outside, the second man remained unmoving. Hawk’s SUV was in the driveway, where he’d left it. But Jillian dug in her heels, resisting him much like her daughter.
“Wait. Where are we going? Shouldn’t we call the police? I don’t understand...”
“Not now,” he said forcefully. “We’ll talk later.”
“Fine, but I’m not going without Lizzy’s car seat.”
Giving in was easier than arguing. “Give me your keys, then get into the SUV.”
Thankfully she did as she was told. He grabbed the child seat out of Jillian’s rusted sedan and hurried over to his vehicle. Within minutes he had the car seat strapped in and Lizzy plunked inside. The little girl’s crying shredded him.
After sliding in behind the wheel, he wasted no time in backing out of the driveway. Keeping an eye on Jillian’s house in the rearview mirror as he drove away, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a black-clad man staggering out through the front door, holding the ski mask in his hand.
Fearing more hostiles on the way, Hawk hit the gas, speeding as fast as he dared through the slick, snow-covered streets of their Brookland, Wisconsin, neighborhood, until he reached Highway 18. Then he headed west toward the interstate.
“I don’t understand,” Jillian said. “What’s going on? Who were those men?”
He glanced over at her. “I don’t know. But they were armed and dangerous.”
“Why did they come after me?” Jillian’s voice sounded shaky and confused. He had to give her credit for not falling apart. She lifted a hand to her long, dark-red hair, a gold wedding band on the third finger of her left hand glinting in the moonlight.
“Could they have been looking for your husband?”
“My husband is dead,” she said in a flat tone.
“Lizzy’s father?”
She glared at him with clear exasperation. “Weren’t you listening? My husband, Lizzy’s father, is dead. James was killed in Afghanistan a few years ago.”
Hawk went perfectly still, his gaze locked on the highway stretching out before him. He wanted to tell Jillian that he was really James—and that he wasn’t dead. That he didn’t die in Afghanistan but almost had from a small plane
