The Hunter (4 page)

Was I not alert enough for you last night?

Amber rested her chin on her hand. Not only smart, but a smart-ass. Of course he knew she felt his…She shook her head. He was doing that on purpose, putting that image back in her head.
Listen, hot stuff, I don’t have time to play.

Pity.

She admired his typing speed.
You get the coordinates and maybe we’ll talk.

Our first meeting won’t be about talking. It’ll be about making a point.

Threats won’t make me cooperative. Remember you need my help, Mr. McMillan.

You tried to compromise me today. That’s not help.

It would have been nice if she had succeeded. That kind of information would be very valuable, especially if she had found out what Jed and his team wanted so badly from Dilaver. Or even to find out where Jed was…now, wouldn’t that be a coup?

Jed McNeil would understand it’s my job to test you.
It was a half-truth. She needed to know how good this new man was before she would jeopardize her operation again.

My turn next. Signing out.

Wait! What do you mean?

Better not walk around naked at night, Miss Hutchens. Hot Stuff may bump into you. Signing out.

The window closed automatically on its own. Amber cursed out loud. For the second time in half an hour, the man had left her hanging, more intrigued than ever. Hot Stuff indeed. He had used her own code word to refer back to himself. Hawk McMillan had a big head. And was one very smart operative. He had cleverly gotten her to talk to him without even wasting any time trying to find open port holes in her system. All he had needed was her cooperation—to go into his system to see what he was doing and to reply to his baiting. It was a long enough conversation for him to trace her if he wanted to, but he already knew who she was and her business phone, so what was he doing while he was distracting her?

Damn it. She wished she had the evening off so she could play with this new program she had downloaded. But Brad was on the way and she had other business to attend to. She eyed the computer screen suspiciously, half expecting something else to happen, but the window didn’t reappear.

She would have to tell Lily about this. It was clear she had underestimated this Hawk McMillan.

Hawk snapped his laptop shut. That didn’t take long—Miss Amber Hutchens took the bait quickly enough. He had wondered whether she would, but evidently she was very confident about her computer firewalls.

He gathered that she was somewhat of a gambler anyhow. Anyone who did what she had done last night, taking the risk of being caught by Dragan Dilaver’s men just to hang a message on him, had to have a wild side. Since he enjoyed living on the edge himself, he appreciated the woman’s daredevilry. However, he didn’t like knowing she had knocked him out with drugs, that it could have been something more serious.

She had a point. His attention couldn’t slack. It could cost him his life.

He was also intrigued by Amber Hutchens’s front. A café owner. Who would see her as some kind of tracker? And from what Dilaver had said, she sold information to get his protection. So whose side was she on?

When she had answered the phone earlier, her voice had had the oddest effect on him. Smooth and soft, it slid against his skin like silk. So this was the voice belonging to the woman who’d touched him. He had hated not having an image for a target. Now he had a voice. And he wondered whether she looked as delicious as she sounded.

Hawk made an impatient sound. His mind was wandering into territory that had gotten him into trouble again. Fuck! The curse brought a reluctant wry smile on his lips. Exactly. Months of clogged sperm. He was going to get himself killed if even a sexy voice was making him horny.

She was probably big as a house. Nope, he had fought with her last night. Okay, now he had a voice and a body. He closed his eyes, going through the events of last night, bringing up the fight in slow motion, from the moment his mystery assailant had attacked him till the last point of consciousness when he had tried to snap her neck.

Details came flooding back. She wasn’t very tall; he had towered over her. She had a very strong grip and, remembering the way she held the needle, she was right-handed. He smiled again. And yeah, she had very strong thighs, too. He suddenly recalled, just before falling over, he’d thought the “man” wiry and…his hand had gone for the neck…brushing up against…Hawk sat up. He had touched her breast during that struggle and she had squirmed. That was when she’d decided to use that damn hypodermic needle, because she’d realized that he would discover the truth.

A fierce satisfaction came over him. She had been in trouble herself. Good. He hadn’t liked thinking about how in control she had been, with this plan of tying that note in such an insulting way. That meditation training was damn good—his mind was pulling sensory details out of his unconscious that he didn’t even know he had.

Hawk was definitely looking forward to exacting some kind of revenge now. It would be interesting to see how good an operative Miss Amber Hutchens was.

He spent the next few minutes removing the tracking devices from his cell phone. Then he called Jed’s number again, going through the coded conversation with the woman on the other side. This time there was no sudden disconnection.

“This is Jed.”

The Asians called Jed McNeil Ghost Lightning, a weather phenomena that the superstitious feared. Hawk had heard of other monikers given to the man who had trained him on and off the last half a year.

His current undercover assignment started in Asia a few months ago. He had to leave his SEAL team to work for “Stefan.” Even though the other man never brought it up, Hawk suspected Jed had picked that name as a private joke in reference to Hawk’s family’s odd penchant to give all the sons the same name. Every one of Hawk’s male relatives, including his father, was Steve, or Steven, or Stephan, or one of the other derivatives. He had learned quickly that there wasn’t much Jed McNeil didn’t know about those around him.

His commander, Admiral Madison, had sent him to Jed’s outfit when he’d found out Hawk could speak Asian languages. He could work side by side with the elusive man and observe him.

“I want to know more about those COS commandos,” he’d told Hawk, referring to Jed’s shadowy unit. “This next mission’s a good way to find out.”

So far Hawk hadn’t found out too much. The COS commandos weren’t exactly a group of guys one saw together often.

“Sorry about the last call,” Hawk said.

“We expected it, hence the safeguards.”

“I know who it is now,” Hawk said. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You have to draw your own conclusions about the person with whom you’re going to work, Hawk. How did you like her methods?”

Sneaky. Unpredictable. “Are you saying I can’t trust her?”

There was a pause. “You can never trust an operative who’s been out there for that length of time,” Jed said, “although Amber Hutchens has been a very useful asset to the CIA.”

“She sells information to Dilaver—how’s that useful? She’s probably responsible for some of the leaks. In fact, she might be in league with the D.C. rat’s nest that’s been betraying us.” To find all those responsible for selling information to the enemy was one of Admiral Madison’s goals. Too many of their military brothers had been compromised by those traitors. “Is there no other guide?”

“She’s the most qualified, having been over there for four years, Hawk. She knows that area very well or I wouldn’t use her as an asset. As for the matter of trust…” Jed paused, as if choosing his next words. “Her ratio for providing the truth runs about seventy percent, and that’s in her dealings with me. So you can expect less than that toward you.”

“That sounds encouraging,” Hawk said wryly. That was one thing he had noticed about these GEM and COSCO operatives. They tended to talk in ratios and percentages, assets and losses. “So why do you think she tapped my line?”

“How did she do that in the first place? Did you meet her personally already?”

Hawk scowled. He knew Jed would want to know what happened. It wasn’t easy admitting that he’d managed to be drugged. He briefly outlined the events from the night before—the fight, the needle, his few hours on the floor. His SEAL team commander, Admiral Madison, wouldn’t be pleased that one of his men had been taken down so easily.

“Now you know what kind of woman you’re dealing with,” Jed said quietly. There wasn’t any hint of humor or anger in his voice. “Amber Hutchens is a very careful woman. She was probably testing you because the last operative the CIA sent over nearly blew her cover. She’s also a contract agent, not necessarily a hundred percent loyal to one agency. From her viewpoint, information is valuable and it doesn’t hurt to get it in any way possible. And if you’re a weak link, she made her point if she’d succeeded in tapping your phone and finding out information and about my whereabouts. It looks like she might not cooperate.”

“I’ll take care of her test,” Hawk said. “I’ll convince her I’m capable.”

“How?”

“By doing something that’ll catch her attention. She’s into information and testing. I’ll take her on her challenge and then some.”

“Interesting. It’s always good to show that you can do the same thing she did to you,” Jed suggested. “It might gain her respect.”

Hawk hadn’t given the full details of where Miss Hutchens had left her message. He doubted any of his intentions would get that result. In fact, he was getting pissed off at being put on the defensive; this wasn’t a usual position for him and it didn’t sit comfortably.

“I intend to get to know how she works,” Hawk said. “I don’t care about her respect. I do need her constant cooperation, though, if she’s to be my guide. I can’t have an operative testing my decisions every step of the way.”

“You have limited time to get acquainted with Amber while you find the locations of Dilaver’s weapon silos,” Jed said. “Any headway on that?”

“Dilaver has been recovering from his wound, so he’s been using his cell phone a lot. But he’s doing a rundown of some sort now and as a side note, there’s trouble brewing in his business. Velesta is supposed to be one stop of many. I’m slowly getting the feel of his holdings and operation procedures.” Hawk paused, then added softly, “His sex-slave operation’s very big.”

“That part of his business is his credit card. Your goal, lieutenant, is to look for the hidden weapons, especially the most recent ones that were dropped off while Dilaver was in Asia. I know he’s human trash, but it isn’t your job to take care of him that way.”

“I know that, McNeil,” Hawk said, “but I also want you to know that if I weren’t doing this as part of a joint mission between your agency and my team, Dilaver would be put out of commission. I have seen enough.”

Too damn much, in fact. The images of the locked-up young girls at the
kafenas
were starting to haunt his nights.

“Madison said you’re one of his best men. Tell me now whether you can do this, that you won’t let other things interfere with the main mission. We can’t afford any misstep here,” Jed said, his voice calm and assessing over the phone. “You must gain Dilaver’s trust, and that means getting your hands dirty. The admiral told me you could do this.”

Hawk had to give Jed credit. Bringing up his commander was good. As a SEAL, it was ingrained in him to handle anything to get the job done. Physically, he had barely any challenge—guiding the injured Dilaver and his men out of a particularly hostile Asian mountainous terrain was child’s play. Mentally, he had been taught to block pain and emotion when he was in the war theater, but watching women and young girls victimized had been—he hated to admit it, even to himself—very, very tough.

“McMillan.”

He realized Jed had been waiting for some kind of reply, and it had better be convincing or he’d be pulled off the job. “I have been doing it,” he said crisply. “Dilaver’s now going to different cities and I’m mapping out the routes. I’ll find out more very soon.”

“Good. I’ll wait for your communication. And Hawk…” Jed waited a beat to get his attention. “Don’t underestimate Amber. This business of ours isn’t black and white. You either learn to function within a gray area or be killed.”

Hawk looked thoughtfully at the cell phone after Jed rang off. As usual, he had more questions after talking to Jed. Why had Amber Hutchens been placed here for four years in the first place? And exactly what information did she sell to Dilaver? What did she get in return?

The more he learned about the lady, the more intrigued he was. Underestimate her? He hadn’t been given the chance. But she had shown her disdain for him by initiating this pissing contest, introducing herself with a…memorable and naughty handshake.

He pocketed the phone. Gray ethics, huh? He could only misbehave in return.

Brad frowned. She was here. Amber hadn’t mentioned it—would she be joining them for dinner? It had been almost six weeks since she had gone off on one of her “trips.”

He stepped out of his car and locked it, his eyes trained on the little European car parked two cars down. He wasn’t going to let her leave this time without first talking with him. The problem was, Llallana Noretski wasn’t an easy person to corner.

The Last Resort was a small café, decorated like an American diner, with out-of-the-way things like a scarecrow sitting on a rocking chair in one corner and pictures of American movie stars and NASCAR drivers on the walls. Things from home for homesick young American peacekeepers. Even the tablecloths looked homey, with their cheerful prints of Americana.

As usual, it was bustling with activity, filled with hungry men looking for home cooking. They all recognized him, of course, and he nodded to those who made eye contact. Unlike the previous department head, he hadn’t gone out partying and thus was getting to know some of these men casually. He didn’t like some of the entertainment the men had gone for, and one of these days he would address
that
problem, too.