Hawk (The Quiet Professionals, Book 2) (29 page)

He hit End and looked up as Watters’s long stride carried him into the tent. “What’s up, Captain?”

He thrust his chin toward the device. “On a call?”

“Just ended. I’ll call her back later.”

Watters’s left eyebrow winged up, but then he held out an envelope. “Came in from the CO. You weren’t on base, so they asked me to deliver it.”

A sickening dread filled Mitch’s gut. He tossed aside the iPad and stood, taking the envelope. “What is it?”

“I’d wager it’s not good news.” Watters stood with his hands on his tac belt, watching.

So. No privacy. With a breath for courage, Mitch slid his finger under the envelope flap, tearing it open. “It’s from JAG.” The only words that would register in his mind were the most ominous:

Leitner Vs Black

His heart plummeted as he read what he’d anticipated. “My in-laws are suing for custody of the kids.” He lowered the notice. “My kids.
My kids
, and they want to take them away from me!”

“Nothing like getting stabbed in the back while you’re fighting a war.”

“They never liked that I was in the Army, but this…” He waved the letter. “Couldn’t have dreamed they’d do this. Ella and Noah already lost one parent. I might not be there all the time, but when I’m there, I’m
there
.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Fight it,” Mitch said, working hard to restrain the pitch from his voice.

“Leave during this mess?”

“How can I not?” This time, his voice rose. “If I stay here and ignore this, they’ll move forward without me. I’ll lose Noah and Ella!”

H
awk, anything?”

Brian roughed his hands over his face as he dropped back against the rickety chair and glanced at Falcon. “I got a whole lotta nothin’.” With a shake of his head, he tucked his hands up under his armpits and stared at the monitor. “And that’s telling.”

“Telling you what?” the captain asked as he spun a chair and straddled it backward.

“I have no idea.” Brian shifted and straightened in the seat. “Normally, there’d be some type of chatter, probably not anything that would be really helpful, but noise. Street talk about something happening. It’s crazy quiet about what’s happening here, and a mess like this with our communications would have the cyber underworld lit up like New Year’s.”

“Command’s probably keeping a tight lid on this.”

Brian snorted. “You can’t keep a lid on something like this.” When he saw the narrowing of Falcon’s gaze, he leaned on the table. “Geeks talk. And we know how to talk so most of you normals don’t know.”

“Wait.” The captain cast him a strange look. “ ‘We’?” He slapped his knee with the back of his hand. “You including yourself in the geekdom?”

There it was. The ribbing he’d worked to avoid all his life. The taunting he’d seen his friends dish out to his father and brainiacs in school. “I’m just saying I know where to look and what to look for.” He wouldn’t hand them a get-out-of-jail-free card to harass him. “And that’s what you want me to do, right?”

“Absolutely,” Falcon snapped. “But you’re not doing it.”

Brian balled a fist. Did he just want him to produce it out of thin air? “If I had workable, usable information, I could get it done.”

“Easy,” the captain said, his voice laden with warning for both Falcon and him.

Brian met his steady gaze. Again, this was going to be all on him if things went wrong. Never mind the unrealistic pressure.
Ungodly
was more like it. Because what they were facing, the sick jerk taking too much pleasure out of taunting and ambushing them, had no trails. No hint of existence to be found other than he was screwing up their missions and endangering their lives.

But the anger? It wasn’t worth it.
Is any of it worth it?
In his mind’s eye, he once again saw Davis collapse with a sick thud against the ground. Dead. Davis was dead. He could’ve stopped it. But instead, Terrorist Number One—TN1—forced him to stand down and watch the bloody tragedy.

Brian shrugged. He pushed up out of his chair and stepping back, he swung his leg over the spine of the chair. “I’m going to get some air.” Right now, he wanted to breathe the air of another country. Maybe even another planet.

He batted aside the thick tarp that served as the first barrier to his escape. He strode across the small room and flung open the steelwood door. Wind slapped his face as he stepped into its bitter embrace. Good. The cold felt good. A wake-up call, of sorts. Getting all hot and bothered in the safe house, they’d lost sight of how little they could control.

Walking a few laps around the inner courtyard where they’d parked the vehicles left Brian drained and his skin tingling. Hands under his armpits, he crouched in a corner that shielded him from the driving wind. An eight-foot cement wall protected them from prying eyes. Shoulders hunched and head back against the freezing plaster, Brian let out a long, slow breath, which puffed around his face. Snow danced on the hazy light of a street lamp positioned outside the compound.

He pushed his gaze upward. Instead of a sprinkling of stars and blinking lights from aircraft, he could only see a wall of clouds. What lay beyond the storm?

It could be a theological question.
God… You up there?

Or a metaphorical question.
Would he survive what was coming?
If they didn’t find this TN1, would any of them survive?

Did it matter?

Brian wasn’t sure anymore.
Why am I here?

He once believed in this, in war.

But that…that was about making a name for himself. And he’d done that. Became a Green Beret. A quiet professional. A soldier who didn’t have to tell anyone what he did because he was that confident in his abilities.

But that hadn’t been good enough. For too long he’d had to make his point, his mark loud and clear. Fists and all, if necessary.

Which was stupid. Being a tough mudder didn’t save Davis.

The side door squeaked open. A shadowy, hazy form drifted into view. The tall build of the team commander warned Brian a lecture would accompany his arrival.

“That was a first.”

Here it comes
.

“Good call, walking away like that.” Captain Watters stood beside him, propped against the wall. “I thought I was going to have to peel you off him.”

The words pricked Brian’s conscience. He didn’t know what to say.

“What’s going on with you, Brian?”

Jaw clamped, he watched the snow again. The frenetic, unruly path the flakes took under the violent fingers of the wind reminded him of his life. Crazy. Unpredictable. “Just…thinking.”

The captain slid down and sat, forearms on his long legs. “I have that problem, too.”

Brian smirked.

“Watching someone under your command get hit is hard.” The captain nodded, his gaze out. “It’s hard when a friend goes down, but when you’re responsible for them—”

“She wasn’t under my command.”

“But she looked to you, right? And if I know you, I’d bet you felt responsible for every grunt and newb they sent out on that supply run. Right?”

Brian gritted his teeth, trying to push away Davis’s face. The thump her body made when she fell. “She was a
good
soldier. She was ready, she followed orders. Had a good mind for strategy.” And TN1 blew it out of her skull. “I think she had the makings of an officer.”

Taunting whispers of doubt carried on the wind as silence fell between them. The same accusatory, icy whispers that told him he should’ve followed his gut, not the order. That Davis and Parker would be alive. “I’d been working so hard to be good, to do what was expected of me, to”—he swallowed hard—“earn back your respect. And that son of a biscuit tied my hands and made me watch her die.”

The burn started at the base of his throat, forcing another hard swallow. He hated this. Hated feeling weak. Hated giving anyone an opportunity to mock him. Put him down. Compare him to his father. “You know—my dad screwed up his life and, in doing so, screwed up my life and my mom’s. I’ve never forgiven him for that, and now I realize I bear the same shame as him.”

“For what?”

“Davis and Parker.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” The captain shifted, an arm slung over his knee. “Dude, that’s out of your control. You did everything you could’ve—”

“No.” He cut his eyes to his captain. “I could’ve taken that shot.”

With a breathy grunt, Dean shook his head. “Man, don’t do this to yourself. There was no way for you to know that call wasn’t legit.”

When he’d signed off on the disciplinary action against Hawk, he had no idea the man that would come back would have this on his shoulders. This wasn’t the frame of mind the guy needed. Or one the team needed.

“Are you with us?” Dean had to ask. Didn’t want to question one of his brothers, but there could be no doubts here.

Hawk stared out at the snow. “Yeah…”

“Can you say it maybe like you mean it?” With the snow and darkness, he wasn’t sure, but he chose to believe Hawk smirked. “Listen, I need to let you know”—Dean’s heart cinched—“you never lost my respect. I might’ve been disappointed in your choices, but I know you, man. Like I said back then, you’re a top-notch soldier. I wouldn’t have you on this team if I thought otherwise. I wouldn’t trust you with my back.”

Hawk eyed him. “When they put my dad away, I had to fight every day for the respect I ended up with.”

“That’s the difference here, Brian.” Dean waited to make sure he was looking him in the eye. That he really heard him, because Dean had a feeling this was vital for the fierce fighter not only to hear but believe. “You don’t have to fight for it here. You’ve got it.”

Hawk looked down then away.

“What’s happening here? What is the denial written all over your face?”

“Nothing.”

That
nothing
was a big
something
. “I need you to be straight with me. We have our lives on the line.”

“It’s just…” Hawk ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Okay?” He came to his feet.

“No.” Dean wasn’t going to accept that and stood to face him. “Something’s—”

“Hold up!” Hawk craned his neck forward, looking over Dean’s shoulder.

“Hey, don’t—”

“Cap’. Look.” Hawk hurried forward to the old Hummer they’d driven back from the base. As Hawk moved, he freed his Glock, took aim, and fired—into the air.

“What’re—?”

Clank. Thunk. Tink
.

Dean looked to his right, stunned.

Something crackled and popped—electrical!

As if running for his life, Hawk raced toward the thing, picked it up, and messed with it. Though Dean had no idea what the communications expert was doing, he was
doing
it—fast.

“What is it?” Anticipation and fear tightened frigid fingers around Dean’s throat.

Hawk plucked something free. Shot a glare at him. “Someone knows where we are.”

Axles popped loudly as tires crunched over the snow. Slivers of light attacked the wood gate that served as the only barrier between them and whatever vehicle approached. And there shouldn’t be anyone approaching at this hour. Even someone lost would have to take a lot of wrong turns to end up back here.

As swiftly as Hawk pulled his sidearm, so had Dean. He sent Hawk to the left and he sprinted right just as the wood gate groaned open. They waited until the vehicle pulled in and stopped. On Dean’s signal they scurried forward, weapons aimed at the driver and the passenger. He could take out the front two. Hawk would have no problem nailing anyone in the back. They had it covered.

Hands aching from the cold, Dean was warm from head to toe from the surge of adrenaline as he barreled down on the car. “Hands, hands!”

From the other side, Hawk shouted, “Give me a reason not to kill you!”