The Hunter (5 page)

“Those are beautiful flowers, Brad,” Amber said as she walked toward him.

And as usual, all male eyes followed the owner of the café. Amber Hutchens wasn’t just attractive; she was strikingly beautiful, of the All-American blond and blue-eyed variety. She had pulled her shoulder-length hair into a chignon, showing off the gold loops in her ears. The smile she gave him lit up her eyes.

“I spent a fortune,” he told her, as she kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Then I’d better make sure dessert’s richer than usual,” she said.

He smiled back and followed her to his table in the back. It was screened off from the rest of the dining area, sometimes used for private parties. It also reinforced the assumption that Bradford Sun was more than just a client to Amber Hutchens, especially when he would disappear through the door marked
“Privat”
later for what he knew others thought was more intimate time.

Amber was a superb hostess. She steered clear of politics during dinner, amusing him with anecdotes of peacekeepers’ gossip. She was also a good listener, letting him bring up various topics that interested both of them—the new opera in town, the book he was currently reading, the big wedding of a mutual friend. There was not one mention of the latest bombing victim just a few streets from the café. Or the news of the restaurant downtown that had to shut down because the owner had mysteriously disappeared. Or the scandal about a number of peacekeepers caught literally with their pants down in a
kafena
.

They retired into the back room for drinks and dessert. Brad settled back in the sofa comfortably, sipping his wine, as he watched Amber bring in a covered dish.

“Did you hear that the younger prince of Modevia gave up his eligibility to be second in line so he could marry his civilian sweetheart?” Amber asked, as she served him a piece of cheesecake.

“I read it in the paper,” Brad said, taking a bite of the dessert. It was strawberry cheesecake. “This is simply delicious, Amber.”

“Have another piece.” She smiled. “Take some home.”

“Thanks. That would be…” Brad put down his fork. “Hello, Llallana.”

Llallana Noretski was slim and tall, her dark coloring a direct contrast to her girlfriend’s. She was dressed in a pantsuit, with swirling patterns that reminded him of a bright sunset. She walked slowly into the room, carefully studying everything around her. Brad knew from past observation that she never moved her head but her dark eyes were constantly darting, taking in every little thing. They were large, fanned by long eyelashes that she sometimes peered under, especially when she was pretending not to look at him.

“Hope I’m not interrupting dinner or anything,” she said, without returning Brad’s greeting. She sat down across on the adjacent sofa seat. “But I heard you wanted to see me?”

Brad had casually asked Amber a few weeks ago when Llallana was coming back into town, using business as an excuse. It was frustrating he couldn’t bring up what she was doing because he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to have any knowledge of any illegal activities. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder. The woman sitting nearby seemed incapable of doing anything illegal other than attending the art soirees in Europe to bid for her clients.

Fine, she didn’t want niceties. “How did the last trip go?” he asked.

Llallana shrugged. “Didn’t Amber tell you that it went fine? If there was anything wrong, I’m sure she’d have informed you.”

Amber had silently retreated to a corner of the sofa. Brad suspected she was hiding a smile behind the cup of coffee. Unlike with her, he was always sparring with Llallana Noretski.

“I just wanted more details,” he said.

“I thought you said before that you didn’t want
any
details,” Llallana retorted. “Didn’t he, Amber?”

“I think Brad meant that certain things, like how you secured the passports and whom you talked to, are off-limits,” Amber said smoothly. “He’s interested in where the girls are and how they’ll fend for themselves in their new homes, Lily.”

“Is that right, Brad?” Llallana asked, her brows arching sardonically. “As long as your hands are clean, hmm?”

“We’re on the same side on this,” Brad said softly. “You know I want to help those girls as much as you do.”

“And you’ve been helping,” Amber assured him.

“Then why doesn’t he take scum like Dilaver off the street?” demanded Llallana, her eyes blazing with sudden fire. “You have the power, don’t you, Brad? Or are you just a puppet?”

He wasn’t going to discuss UN protocol with her. She wouldn’t understand how his hands were tied by votes and red tape. He put down his glass of wine. “We all have a job to do, although you seem to have more freedom than me because of your…shortcuts.”

He watched as Llallana straightened her shoulders. Well, it wasn’t his fault—she attacked him first.

“My shortcuts save lives,” she told him.

“You’re dealing with gray people and breaking international laws,” he reminded her.

“I get my job done. Do you?”

Ouch. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“And yet, supposedly, you have all avenues at your disposal.” Llallana tilted her head. “Capture Dilaver. He’s in town. What’s so tough about that?”

“He’s KLA.”

“Oh yes, UN-sanctioned ‘good’ guys.” Llallana laughed. “You can get around that.”

“Break the laws I uphold?” Brad narrowed his eyes. “And what would that make me? There are consequences each time I compromise.”

“Oh yes, it might affect your way up the diplomatic chain of command,” she said, a cynical smile lifting the corners of her lips. “Who would want to stay here in this hellhole?”

Before he could reply, Amber interrupted. “Now, Lily, be fair. He’s helping as much as he can, especially now that he’s found out what we do,” she said, leaning forward to pour more wine into the glasses, her eyes catching Brad’s.

As always, he wondered about the two women’s relationship, both of whom seemed to contrast so in style and manner. One was calm and assessing and the other bothered the shit out of him. Yet, he’d caught them laughing in the kitchen before, giggling like females sometimes did when they were talking naughty stuff. Maybe he just hadn’t tried hard enough with Llallana. Hell, how could he be friendly with a woman who corrected him each time he called her Lily? He wasn’t a
friend
. Fine. He’d stopped after the first few times.

“That’s because you’re contracting with the CIA and he feels obligated.”

“Is that what you think?” Brad asked, curious. She wasn’t wrong, but she was also assuming that he approved of the CIA. Llallana shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. He had a feeling that there was more to this than surface accusations. “Tell me how they’ve hurt you, Llallana.”

Bingo. Something flared up in those beautiful eyes for a moment, then she dipped her head to study her fingernails. She gave him that sideways glance that always managed to hide her thoughts. “Getting melodramatic, aren’t we? Now, what is it about the girls you wanted to know again? Where are they? Out of this country. How are they? Better than before. Those too afraid to go home have enough money to survive for a while. Will they get better care?” She paused. “I don’t know. I hope so. Some of them are in bad shape, as you know.”

Her voice had lost some of its passion, as if she were trying to control her emotions by being businesslike. Brad didn’t miss the way her hands clenched and unclenched on her lap.

“When you”—he stopped to find another word for “smuggle”—“move them, don’t the authorities question some of those in bad condition? I’d be suspicious if a few girls boarded my plane with bruises and cuts.”

Some of them had more than bruises and cuts. And all of them were psychologically damaged.

“I try to give them some downtime, Brad. It isn’t easy preparing a girl that age for a journey away from everything she’s known. But then, she’s already suffered a fate that’s beyond anything girls her age should know. I try to prepare them. This is their chance to escape and they know this. There aren’t many choices, you know.”

“That’s why getting them before they’re destroyed by the
kafena
thugs was a good strategy,” Amber said, then added with a small smile, “and it was Brad’s idea.”

“That’s the information I can easily get without raising too many eyebrows.” After all, it was his job to trace the drugs and illegal human trafficking. “And I do know the risks you take to get them to a safe place, Llallana.”

He still couldn’t believe the woman sitting across from him was also in charge of some team of thugs or mercenaries—she wouldn’t tell and, of course, he wasn’t going to ask—who literally played highwaymen, pretending to be going after the girls for their own gain. Where did she meet with these men?

“Let’s drink to the success of the next road trip, shall we?” Amber lifted her glass. “Brad has more information, Lily.”

Brad picked up his glass and drank to the toast as he broodingly studied Llallana. He wanted to get her alone with him…like the last time. Part of him wanted to kiss her again.

“That went quite well,” Amber said, after
loading up the dishwasher. Despite the cool weather outside, she’d opened the kitchen back door that led onto the second-story deck outside. Standing by the entrance, she studied Llallana sitting on the stool outside, smoking a cigarette. A sign of nerves—Lily hardly smoked except when something was bothering her.

“Don’t you have other guests downstairs to attend to?”

“That’s what the staff is for,” Amber replied, “and I usually take the evening off when Brad comes to dinner.”

Llallana turned around in the semidarkness. “Sorry to have interrupted your plans.”

“Oh, come on, we’ve been friends for four years, Lily. You don’t have to play those games with me. And Brad isn’t interested in me, and vice versa.” Amber took a deep breath. “There was choking tension in the room this evening between the two of you that’s new. Mind explaining the source to me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Llallana took a drag of her cigarette, then crushed it into the ashtray. “I didn’t feel anything.”

“When you guys didn’t hit it off when Brad first came on the scene, you told me you didn’t like his type. Too strait-laced, or something like that. What changed?”

“I still don’t like his type,” Llallana flashed.

“Uh-huh,” Amber murmured. This thing between her friend and Brad had gotten more and more interesting to watch each meeting. They were antagonistic toward each other from the very beginning, yet there was a subtle hint of sexual attraction. “It’s cold out there. I’m going to close the kitchen door now. Coming in?”

“I have my jacket on. In a few, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t leave without saying ’bye. I have stuff to talk to you about.”

“About what Brad told us?”

Amber shook her head. “We can talk about that tomorrow. There’s something else.” She wanted to tell her about the call and instant messenger conversation a few hours ago. “It isn’t urgent, but it’s something interesting.”

“All right. I’ll be there soon, ’kay?”

“Take your time, sweets. I have a few business chores to finish up first, anyway. It’s almost closing time.” Amber quietly closed the door. Llallana would confide in her when the time was right.

She turned off the main light, leaving only the twin ones over the oven and kitchen sink, then took a stairway through a side door that led down to her office. The luxury of living upstairs from where one worked was that she didn’t need to worry about taking late bus rides or driving a car at night.

She collected the cash box from Katia, one of her wait staff, as she peeked into the kitchen. “Any guests left?”

“Someone walked in really late and I told him the ovens were off already. He went off.”

Usually The Last Resort accommodated late customers, but Katia knew that Amber didn’t like to be disturbed when the CIVPOL chief was here. On other nights, Amber would take over and let her help go home.

“Thanks, Katia. You and Dru can go now. I’ll finish up. See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

Amber locked up after they left, turning off lights here and there. She had structured her café hours to suit her needs, keeping it open from ten to two during the day for customers who wanted to buy her cookies and have a quick coffee or tea break from their work. In the evenings she served the ever-popular American dinners that made her café a regular haunt for soldiers and diplomats. Usually she mingled with them, especially those who had been working in the area for a while. She learned a lot of useful information that way. Everyone who was around long enough knew that The Last Resort was the place to buy, sell, or pass on information. And sometimes get some free chocolate cookies, she added with mockery.

It took a while for the setup to work. An American-like café in Velesta was a good front. The CIA had told her that the soldiers were getting restless with their peacekeeping duties and needed something to distract them other than carousing at the girlie bars. It also attracted the locals who were curious about anything foreign. Then there were the
kafena
owners, who came here to make friends with the soldiers, giving them cards for “free” massages and other favors from “their” girls. The CIA liked the idea.

It was in this setting that information flowed like the beer she served. Some she bought, some she passed on to gain favors, and others…she gave to Dilaver as a gesture to show she was not one to take sides. By making the café a popular drinking hole for the soldiers, she avoided many of the dangers of running a business in a town owned by various other mercenary gangs. She didn’t have to deal with giving protection money as long as she provided all sides with what they needed.

And no one questioned an American woman doing shady business while running a café. This was Velesta. Everyone had a shady background and ran something illegal. It would be suspicious if she had been a regular businesswoman, choosing, of all places, to settle here in this crime city. No, Amber Hutchens fitted right in, and everyone respected her very quiet ways of running an information ring.

CIA-approved information ring, Amber corrected, as she put away the cash in the safe. She looked at the stack of fake passports in there. And non-CIA approved human smuggling ring. She punched in the security codes, turned, and froze at the sight of a fully clothed Hawk McMillan before her.

“How did…mmmmph!” A cold cloth covered her mouth and nose.

Hawk was prepared this time. He knew the most likely first reaction was to grab the hand against her mouth, and when Amber did that, he effectively countered it by knocking her off balance with a quick sweep of his foot. Then he lifted her off her feet and trapped her body against the wall with his weight. She jerked up, struggling to loosen her hands, trying to use her legs for leverage.

Hawk pushed in between them, lifting her higher against the wall and pressing down on Amber. Her eyes glared at him, even as he felt her strength leaving her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

“I believe we’ve done this position before,” he told her softly as he watched her eyes lose focus and slowly close. He kept the cloth on her mouth for a few more seconds, just in case she was pretending. Her legs slid off him. He loosened his hold and her head rolled forward, resting under his chin.

Sliding his hand down to hold her so he could lower her to the floor, Hawk made contact with bare skin. He suddenly realized that the skirt she had on had ridden up to her waist when she had lifted her legs. He moved his hand down the side of her thigh, felt silky skin and a strap. Following it to the front, he encountered a holster holding a small weapon.

Note to self. The woman was always armed when her legs were open. Hawk’s lips quirked. Since the holster was strapped to her left thigh, he supposed she was right-handed. Unless she was ambidextrous. He followed his instincts and checked the other thigh.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured. The lady had a small knife holster there. Not a good idea to piss her off. His grin grew wider. Too damn late. He removed the weapons one at a time, looping the knife into the back of his black tool belt and slipping the gun into a side pocket.

He let her down then and pulled the skirt back into place before lifting her over his shoulder. He turned, looking for the door to his left. He had watched her enter the room from there, so it must be a stairway to the upstairs. The waitress had told him the owner lived upstairs and would be down shortly if he cared to wait.

Oh, he was going to wait, but his way. It was easy enough to pretend to go out and then slip down a small corridor when the young woman’s attention returned to vacuuming. He was in what looked like an office, and as luck would have it, it was where Amber Hutchens had appeared through the door. Jackpot. That was the access to upstairs.

There was enough lighting from the upper landing for him to climb up without looking for a light switch. It was a narrow space to maneuver a large man carrying an unconscious woman, though, and he had to be careful several times not to bump against the wall and hurt his prisoner. He reached the top, hesitated, then turned to the right. He had barely taken half a dozen steps when the light suddenly switched on. He blinked, and found himself staring at another woman pointing a weapon at him.

She was tall, with short dark hair, and her dark eyes held a cool look in them, telling him that she could use the weapon trained on him if she wanted to. She studied him for a moment.

“Well, if it isn’t Hawk McMillan,” she finally drawled.

“I gather you know me,” he said.

“We have…met…” she acknowledged with a small smile.

“I see.”

“Getting a little revenge?” she asked.

“Sort of. Mind introducing yourself? I kind of like knowing the names of women who have touched me.”

“Not yet.” Her voice turned serious again. “What exactly are you doing with my friend?”

Hawk patted Amber’s bottom and watched the other woman’s expression turn to amusement. “Her? Oh, nothing quite as humiliating as what she did to me. Want to watch?”

The smile returned and she slowly lowered her weapon. “Is it anything kinky?” she asked. “She’ll hate it if you do anything kinky to her.”

Hawk cocked his head. “Lady, she tied a note around my dick. That’s not exactly prim and proper.”

She shook her head, her smile turning impish. “I didn’t see it, but suspected it from the look in her eyes. Ah well. I suppose that revenge of some sort’s proper. You did pass her test, after all.” She nodded toward Hawk’s back. “That’s where you want to go. This is the kitchen.”

Hawk raised his eyebrows. “You’re letting me walk in there with your friend, just like that.” This was a very unusual woman. “You trust me not to hurt her.”

She shrugged. “I’ll just kill you if you do. She’d do the same for me.” She glanced at her watch. “Besides, from what I’ve heard, you need her to help you in your mission, don’t you? You have fifteen minutes, Mr. McMillan. Is that enough time?”

“Plenty.” He started to turn around, then added, “You sure you don’t want to watch? Shouldn’t you be protecting Amber?”

The woman laughed. “Honey, what’s life without a little fun? I’m Lily, by the way. And watch that you don’t overdo that revenge bit. I’ll find you and hurt you before you can hide behind Dilaver’s big ass.”

Hawk gave her a smile and nodded, then turned toward the room Lily had indicated. He looked around as he walked toward a big bed that looked very comfortable. Spacious, with very few things on the walls. It didn’t look anything like the feel-good-Americana décor downstairs. A desk with her laptop. A big love seat in the corner by the window. That was it. No frou-frou pillows on the bed, or hand-crafted throws, or anything that matched the downstairs persona.

He bent down and slid Amber onto the bed. She settled into the feather mattress, her blond hair loosened from its knot, leaving bright wisps against her face and the dark pillow.

Hawk sat on the edge, taking a good look for the first time. She wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. He was still surprised at how small she was, although he knew this from the night before. He also knew how strong she was, yet nothing about this woman betrayed that.

She looked refined, with a peaches-and-cream complexion that made him want to touch her face, just to see whether her skin was as silky as it looked. With her mussed-up hair and her mouth slightly open, she reminded him of some sleeping princess.

Oh yeah, and he was just the prince to wake her up. And let’s not forget the princess was a well-armed woman with quite a number of skills. Which reminded him. He was here to make a point, not to admire the woman’s beauty.

He had never played a game of one-upmanship in quite this way before. He and his best friend, Jazz, were fiercely competitive, and had each done some pretty outrageous stuff to get the other’s goat. This time was no different, Hawk told himself. Tit for tat. Even if the opponent was a woman with gorgeous skin.

Hawk gently lifted her skirt. Those legs…Without warning, he suddenly had a vision of them wrapped tightly around him while he was naked. The image segued into a more masculine fantasy of him on top of Amber and doing the plunging, instead of the hypodermic needle she had with her.

Damn it!
What the hell was wrong with him?

Determinedly, he pulled the skirt higher, until the holsters were in sight. He hesitated for only a second, then reached down to unfasten the first one. His hand spanned around her thigh, his tan from Asia very dark against her paleness. He stared, mesmerized by the contrast, and against his will stroked the soft skin with his thumbs. He wondered whether she was smooth and silky like this all over.

A deep sigh halted his rampant thoughts. Hawk looked up. Amber was still out, but he’d better hurry before her girlfriend outside changed her mind and came in guns ablazing. He unsnapped the holsters one after the other and removed them. Then he took a permanent marker out of his tool belt and gently nudged her onto her side.

If Dilaver was right, Amber Hutchens had a boyfriend anyway. Was he ever going to be pissed off when he saw she’d been marked. He grinned. He actually pitied the poor bastard. This woman was obviously a control freak who would run her man ragged with mind games. He uncapped the marker.

Lily didn’t think Hawk McMillan would really hurt Amber. Embarrass her a bit, maybe. She would respect the man a lot less if he hadn’t retaliated in kind for what her friend did to him. Lily worked with a lot of men and considered herself quite good at understanding them.

Most men, she corrected, but she wasn’t going to go into that again. She had done enough thinking about
him
out on the deck. And she wasn’t going to throw another pity party for herself again tonight.

Life was for living, and she planned to have a good time doing it. She knew Amber could sense her moodiness and she intended to remedy that somehow. She didn’t want anyone to think that she was anything but happy. Because life was for living, she repeated. She had seen enough misery to know her lot was way, way better than most women’s around these parts, and she would help give some living back to the poor girls as long as she could.