nothing about me, Alonsa, that you have no reason to trust me, but you can talk to Cutter. He’ll vouch that I have a talent for smoking out facts where none seem to exist. I’m not bragging. It’s just how it is.”
Not bragging. Not arrogant. Just sure of himself. It went with the Special Ops territory, she suspected. It was his reason for being so quick to want to jump into this that she couldn’t decipher. And there was still the cost.
“Even if I want to hire you, I’m not sure I can afford you.”
“You won’t have to pay anything except reasonable expenses. An economy flight from time to time. A cheap hotel when the need arises. Frogmen aren’t used to first class.”
“You can’t work for nothing.”
“I can do what I want for now. Once I start the new assignment with Cutter my time for this will be limited, but I can move on this full speed until then. So the sooner we rev the engines, the better.”
He had answered all her questions but one. “Why, Hawk? Why would you do this for a virtual stranger?”
“I like the way you dance. And it’s the right thing to do.”
HAWK TOOK THE LONG way back to the Double M. Scenes from the past pummeled his mind as he drove the dark meandering roads through lonesome strands of pine. Flying over enemy territory searching for a fellow frogman who hadn’t returned from a mission. Swimming beneath the current with the body of a fallen buddy strapped to him like a second skin.
No man left behind.
He’d lived by that vow in the ragged mountains of Afghanistan and in Middle Eastern deserts so hot he’d felt as if his blood were boiling. Now he was back in America and out of uniform, but the vow seemed no less important. A little girl torn from her mother and dragged into who knew what. Didn’t Alonsa deserve to find her daughter or at least get some kind of closure?
A major concern right now was just how much of this was about him and what he needed. He’d been out of the service for months now and still he hadn’t found any kind of groove. That’s why he’d joined up with Cutter.
Becoming a SEAL had made him part of a team that tackled everything that was thrown at them with never a thought of failure. No one had been more surprised than he was to discover how much he missed being a part of that team and of something bigger than himself.
The only real drawback to taking on this case was the sizzling attraction that had hit the first moment he’d laid eyes on Alonsa. The way she’d moved on the dance floor. The way she’d felt in his arms when they two-stepped their way through the sultry country-western ballad. The way she’d looked in that chair, with her legs curled up under her. Even the way she’d poured him a cup of coffee.
Hell, everything about her turned him on.
But seducing her was not in the rules of engagement. It would make him less effective, might even complicate their relationship to the point where working together would become impossible. Worse, it would be taking advantage of her weakest vulnerability.
He’d just have to keep his libido under control, at least until the job was done. That would require seeing her without touching her on a regular basis and going home to cold showers and an empty bed every night.
And he’d thought the war zone was tough.
ALONSA RINSED BRANDON’S empty cereal bowl, placed it in the dishwasher and poured herself a glass of orange juice. She’d lain awake for most of the night, tossing, turning and vacillating between enthusiasm for Hawk’s offer and a dread that was pitted deep in her soul. A dread that made no sense.
She wanted her daughter back with every fiber of her being, prayed for it perpetually, had spent an entire year so consumed with finding her that she’d sinfully neglected her son. The belief that Lucy was still alive and that someday they’d be reunited was the glue that held her together.
But what if Lucy wasn’t?
“Mom, come see what I built.”
“Okay, sweetie. I’ll be right there.” She took her juice and ambled to the family room where Brandon had arranged his wooden blocks in a tower that reached his chin.
“It’s a skyscraped.”
“Skyscraper,” she corrected him. “A super-duper one.”
He laughed and knocked it over, scattering the blocks in every direction.
“All that work just to watch it fall?”
“Yeah. It’s fun.”
The hum of an engine in her drive sent a new wave of apprehension slithering along her nerve endings. She went to the front window and watched as Hawk climbed from behind the wheel and started for the house.
Amazingly he looked even more virile than he had last night. His jeans were worn, his shirt a black, collarless knit that hugged his hard frame, not the Western type so many of the local ranchers wore. But the boots and black Stetson insured that genuine, rugged cowboy look.
Yet something set him apart from the other men in the area. Maybe it was the cocky swagger or the determined set of his chin. And suddenly she knew why the apprehension had taken such hold of her.
Hawk was battlefield-hardened and success-proven. If he set out to do something, it wasn’t likely he’d stop until he succeeded. This time that determination would be directed full force at investigating her daughter’s disappearance. She’d finally get answers. She’d find out what happened to Lucy.
But what if the truth was more than her heart could bear?
Her fingers were clammy and her heart was in her throat when she opened the door and ushered him inside.
Chapter Three
Hawk had slept little last night. Nothing unusual for him. When his mind was in gear, his body seemed to refuel on adrenaline. It was that way for most of the frogmen he knew. Maybe that was what set them apart, a trait that had helped them make it through the initial BUD/S training and later take dangerous missions in stride.
In the early hours of the morning, his surge of energy had pushed him through an extensive online search for information on Todd Salatoya. The basic facts were easy enough to locate for someone who knew how to maneuver the intricate maze of informational sites. What Hawk hadn’t been able to find on his own, Cutter’s tech guy Eduardo had sniffed out for him. Actually, he’d waited until seven to call Eduardo. He figured some men slept.
Todd had had an exemplary record as an FBI agent, highly acclaimed. He’d been killed in the line of duty just as Alonsa had said, shot repeatedly by a drug dealer manning an AK-47. It had apparently been a brutal clash in a sting that Todd had masterminded. This time he’d made a few fatal misjudgments and the cartel had been waiting for him.
So Todd Salatoya went down on a bitterly cold winter night and never went home to his beautiful wife and two kids. Merely weeks later his daughter had been abducted from the Houston Zoo.
In spite of Craig’s insistence to the contrary, it was highly possible that the two were related—a payback against Todd’s family or a warning to other agents not to mess with the cartel. If so,
