The Hunter (7 page)

“Lily, you can’t possibly tell all that from just looking at a man.”

“Oh yes I can. When you look at Dilaver, what do you feel?”

Amber visibly shuddered. Dragan Dilaver gave her the chills. He was a thug with a lot of power, and she had seen what he had done to young girls. Some of those victims had been in her care, after all. Every time she met him, it took all her willpower to keep her fury at bay.

“See? You can feel certain things, Amber,” Lily continued. “Dilaver is a piece of shit. I don’t even have to see what he did to know this. I have only to peek at him from our little office mirror to see that the man was violent and ruthless. And…he wants you, Amber, if you aren’t aware of that.”

She was. It was in Dilaver’s eyes. Naked lust and oily intentions. “That’s why Brad’s presence is getting to be so useful,” she said.

“Brad’s presence can only protect you for so long,” Lily warned. “But he’ll do for now.”

Amber took the chance. “What do you feel when you look at Brad, then? Is he a violent man?” She took another sip of her drink, studying her friend slowly over the glass.

Lily stared back at her challengingly, then shrugged. She adjusted the belt to her dressing gown. “Bradford Sun is a bureaucrat,” she replied quietly. “He doesn’t know violence if it’s staring at him in the face.”

“Oh, I think you’re wrong there,” Amber said, putting the empty glasses in the sink. “He’s dealing with the situations the best way he can at the moment, but I know he’s capable of action when he wants it.”

“And how would you know?”

Lily sounded almost…jealous. Amber hid a small smile. “Because he looks at you and feels your violence toward him, and he’s about to make his move any day now. Tell me, why do you act like that when you’re around him? He’s helping us, you know.”

Lily shrugged again. “I don’t know.” She ran impatient fingers through her hair. “It’s me, I guess. I don’t like bureaucrats. He can just raid those damn places and get Dilaver just like this.” She snapped her fingers. “And he doesn’t.”

Amber leaned over the kitchen counter. She knew there was more to this thing between Brad and Lily than his inability to act the lawman. “Sweetie, his hands are tied. That’s why he’s giving us information when he can. It’s his way of getting some of the girls out of Dilaver’s hands. Now tell me the truth why you’re so pissed off at Brad whenever his name’s mentioned.”

Lily pushed her hands deeply into her pockets. Her eyes had a startled awareness in them, as if she had suddenly realized something. “Because…” she said slowly, wonder in her voice, “he looks at me like Hawk looked last night. A determined, gonna-take-you-and-make-you-mine look. And I don’t need that right now. I don’t need any man to carry me off over his shoulder.”

Amber stared back speechlessly at her friend.

Hawk looked out of the window as the car
sped along the streets of Velesta. He had been here only a few days and he already hated this city. They drove past the makeshift billboard on the side of a building.

“Dancers!” It boasted in several languages. “Come Relax with Our Beautiful Dancers.”

There was a reason for the different languages. The advertisements around here weren’t targeting the Macedonians. Everyone was after the NATO soldiers, the peacekeepers around town, who had the cash and the time to spend on women and booze. So everything was sold in German, French, Polish, and English, and the most popular thing being sold in Velesta were girls.

The irony of it hadn’t escaped Hawk. He wasn’t big-headed about it, but he knew that he had been particularly lucky in the gene pool. He had been told most of his life what a good-looking bastard he was and he’d never had trouble getting any woman. There were very few complaints, except sometimes he wondered whether any of the women really cared what he was like inside. Of course, he hadn’t tried to get to know them better, either. Being a Navy SEAL had taken away any chance of that, and by the time an operation was over, so was the relationship. But there was always another woman waiting around the corner.

And here he was in Velesta, Macedonia, a place filled with women from every imaginable country, except that most of them weren’t here of their own free will. Kidnapped. Enslaved. These were terms that were alien to him when it came to getting women. He had never had the need to buy or take any female by force. It had never even crossed his mind that he would spend any time in a brothel looking at half-naked women being forced to please men.

Dragan Dilaver, the man sitting in the back of the car with him, was the last person on earth that Hawk had thought he would be hanging out with for any prolonged period of time. The thug was the antithesis of everything for which Hawk stood; he was a parasite, a bully, a user. It grated to know that Hawk had to walk into any place with this asshole and be regarded as
his friend.
He could see the fear in the women’s eyes when they looked at him, and he loathed it with a growing, unfamiliar violence that ate at him.

There had never been fear in his women’s eyes before. Or hatred. He had never intimidated a woman in that way before. Perhaps this was some twisted punishment for having it easy with women all his life—now he had hordes of women pretending to like him because they would be beaten if they didn’t act that way.

Dilaver shut his cell phone. “These stupid things won’t stop ringing,” he complained.

“Turn it off.”

“Then how am I suppose to know what’s happening?”

“Dilemma, isn’t it?” Hawk stared at another girlie billboard as the car slowed down at a red light. “Technology can suck you into dependency.”

“Yes. Ten years ago, I didn’t have this piece of crap hanging on the side of my hip, you know? I was out there, armed to the teeth, fighting fucking Serbs and Greeks, joining any side who would pay me, and there was no need for a cell phone to communicate.”

Hawk turned to Dilaver. “So why the need now?”

“I was a mercenary then. I’m a businessman now.” Dilaver let out a sigh. “Now you make me think of the good old days when my life was just about being a soldier. Have you ever been in the army in your country? You look fit enough. Not that I’d recommend that life. No money in it, unless you’re a mercenary.”

“No.”

Hawk didn’t want to compare notes about being a soldier. Dilaver was a mercenary, and therein laid the difference. At least, that was what Hawk told himself. He didn’t kill for money. He went through rigorous training so he could protect his country from harm. And he didn’t abuse power. Yet, he wasn’t naive enough to believe that he was nothing but a tool. All he had to do was look around at the peacekeepers in Velesta. Soldiers, supposedly. Now mere policemen who broke the law by going to the brothels and taking advantage of the women they’d sworn to protect.

“Here we are.”

Hawk already knew where they were, of course. After all, he had been here just the night before. He got out of the car.

He looked up at the oddly out-of-place restaurant, with its cheerful welcome banner above its name, “The Last Resort.” Even the name was out of place. Velesta was hardly a resort of any kind, and probably the very last place for any of the girls in this city to want to visit.

“Popular place,” he noted, as he glanced at the vehicles and mopeds parked outside.

“Oh yes, I told you, those NATO peacekeepers love this place. The owner’s pretty little ass doesn’t hurt business, either.”

Hawk thought of Amber Hutchen’s pretty little ass. Funny how he had barely exchanged three lines with the woman, yet he knew how her ass felt smooth and silky under his hand. He wondered how she was, how she had reacted to his surprise when she’d woken up.

His lips quirked. There were few things that made him smile in this place, but the owner of The Last Resort was one of them. For some reason her appearance and little challenge had brightened an otherwise sobering few months.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” he said. “So you have done business with her before?”

“Now and then. She can’t ignore me, you know. I’m the king around here. She’s too old for my taste and has a bit more brains.” Dilaver leaned on his cane, nodding to his bodyguards to follow him. “She’s given me good information sometimes. I told you she sleeps with the CIVPOL chief, so sometimes she passes on to me that there’s a raid coming on such and such a date, and I get to save some trouble and money by warning my
kafena
supervisors to shut down before the police comes. That’s why I don’t bother her too much.”

“I see.” Jed was right. The woman couldn’t be entirely trusted, if she used information gathered from a lover like that. Hawk wondered whether there was anyone left in this town who wasn’t corrupt in one form or another.

Bells jingled as soon as they opened the door, announcing their arrival. The main eating area was half filled, with most of the guests in uniform. Someone had started the jukebox in the corner and a familiar American dance tune was playing.

“We’re here for lunch,” Dilaver said to the woman standing behind the counter.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the restaurant is only open for dinners. We only serve American cakes and coffee in the afternoon.”

“You go to the back and tell Miss Hutchens that Dilaver has brought an American guest here for lunch and he wants to try her specialty.” Dilaver lifted a brow. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

The woman nodded and hurriedly went through a doorway behind her. Some of the soldiers in the café had already noticed the new arrivals and had started to look at them expectantly. News of Dilaver being back in town was probably making the rounds. The woman reappeared.

“Miss Hutchens said to take you to the private dining area. Please follow me.”

Dilaver gave Hawk a triumphant smile as they followed the woman to the back where there was a screened-off area. The bodyguards positioned themselves in front of the screen as they sat down.

The woman handed them some menus. “She’ll be with you shortly.”

Dilaver perused the menu. “I hate American food. I’m only doing this for you.”

Hawk wished he could eat this meal alone. “Much appreciated,” he said.

“I know you’ve been dying for some hamburger.” Dilaver laughed.

The man was fixated with dying. “You did say it’s the best in town,” Hawk said.

“Well, order whatever you like. You can even have the owner if you want her. She’s quite a meal herself.”

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” a voice smoothly interrupted.

Hawk looked up. Amber Hutchens stood near the screen, dressed casually in a work shirt and jeans. Her sleeves were rolled up, as if she had been busy in the kitchen, and he could see flour stains on the dark material of her jeans. Her eyes narrowed just a little at the sight of him, but otherwise her expression didn’t betray any surprise at the sight of them.

“Amber,
kako ste
!”

“Fine, thank you, Dragan. How was your trip to Asia?”

Dilaver scowled. “I’m still limping from that fiasco. They don’t know how to do business there and the food’s too damn spicy. And they have shitwater for beer.”

Amber came closer to the table, a small smile on her lips that never quite reached her eyes. “Didn’t sound like the vacation you said you were going to have, huh?” She took the tray from a waitress who appeared, setting the glasses of water for Dilaver, then Hawk. Her eyes met Hawk’s for the first time. “And is this your new friend?”

This close, in the light of day, Hawk had time to take in everything about Amber more leisurely. The first thing that caught his attention was her eyes; she had the blackest pupils set against a teal blue. Cat’s eyes. The kind that glowed in the dark. And she was looking at him the way one would, too—as if she were deciding whether to be bored or interested with this particular human being. It made him want to laugh out loud.

There was the slightest tilt at each corner of her lips, giving her that secretive Mona Lisa smile. Her complexion was as silky smooth as he remembered, with the barest of lipstick. He caught a whiff of her perfume when she leaned over to place the glass next to him. A hint of vanilla and something else. He also noticed she didn’t wear any rings on her small, slender hands, but then she could have taken them off while she worked in the kitchen.

“He’s as American as you. Can’t you tell?”

She studied Hawk for a second, then shrugged. “Not really. Does he talk?”

Dilaver laughed. “He’s a shy boy, is Hawk, aren’t you, my friend?”

“Very,” Hawk agreed. He returned the same perusal Amber gave him. “Very nice to finally meet you, Miss Hutchens.”

“Oh? Sounds like you’ve been planning on it.”

“Yes.” He left it at that. They stared at each other for a full second.

Dilaver didn’t appear to hear the undercurrent of their conversation as he looked up from the menu. “This is Hawk. He hasn’t eaten a good American meal in months, Amber. That’s why I brought him here.”

Amber nodded. “What would you like to eat? Since we don’t do lunch, Dragan, you might have to wait a little longer than usual.”

“That’s all right. Why don’t you join us for the meal?” Dilaver leaned forward, his big hands flat on the table. “I need some information.”

Amber regarded him for a moment. “Would you like to try our meatloaf? We’re in the middle of getting some prepared for tonight.”

“Sure, sure, whatever. Don’t forget the beer.”

“And you, Mr…. Hawk? Anything you particularly miss from the States?”

“Surprise me,” Hawk said softly. “I’m sure it’ll be something I like.”

She tilted her head. “What if it isn’t?”

He smiled. “I have a bet riding on the fact that you will get it just right. Anything you cook up will be fine.”

Amber blinked and turned to Dilaver. “I take it back. I like him better quiet.”

Dilaver winked at Hawk and gestured suggestively as Amber walked away. “
Ona je lepa devojka.
Told you.”

Hawk looked after at her departing figure. He knew she was listening. “Beautiful all over,” he agreed. He caught the glare of her blue eyes just before she slipped into the back room, and resisted from grinning. Would she?

Amber stalked into the study. Lily turned from the two-way mirror through which she had been studying Dilaver and Hawk.

“So, you finally get to talk to him,” she said, smiling. “He’s yummy, isn’t he?”

He was devastatingly so, especially when he looked at her as if he had seen her naked before, but Amber wasn’t in the mood to sigh about Hawk McMillan’s good looks. He had issued yet another challenge and she couldn’t find a way out of it.

Llallana followed her through the connecting door that led into the kitchen. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”

“Tina, get the gentleman in the private area their choice of beer,” Amber told one of her waitresses. She wrote onto the order sheet and clipped it above the cooking area. “Those are the orders, Ona. Prepare the meatloaf.”

Llallana leaned against the refrigerator. “He’s gotten to you.”

“That man’s too much into games,” Amber said.

“Ha! Says the one who started it all!”

Amber grabbed chunks of hamburger meat from a container and started kneading it fiercely. Lily was right, of course. She started all this. She felt like growling. Ona came over, steadying the piece of order paper to read what she had written before heading off to the pantry.

“So what are you making him? Such a big man…hmmm…must have a voracious appetite. From what I overheard, he seems to trust your skills.”

When Amber said nothing, Lily came closer. She bit her lip. Her friend wasn’t stupid; she lived on the edge most of the time and could pick up signals most people didn’t. She knew it would be just a matter of time before Lily found out the source of her irritation. She did, because she heard the familiar chuckle just behind her.

“Oh my God.” Llallana was trying not to laugh too loudly. “Oh, he’s too much.”

“Shut up!” Amber made a face, shaping the meat into a thick hamburger. She didn’t stop Lily from snatching the order off the clip above her. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

“5MW/MTL/PF/18/69…that’s what he wrote!” Llallana leaned weakly against the side counter. “He…ordered…from the menu!” She broke up laughing again. “Oh, I love him. He ordered his next meal. That was the secret code?”

Amber released a frustrated growl. Last night, Hawk McMillan had somehow gotten to look at the order pad and saw the way her girls wrote down orders from customers. He also seemed to have taken the time to check out her menu, because he was very specific with his instructions. Number 5 from the menu was the house steakburger, with a special sauce. A Number 5 Medium Well/Mayo Tomato Lettuce/Pomme Frittes/Number 18 was Coca-Cola. Of course she had understood the code—she saw variations of the same thing every day for the past four years. She knew what it was the moment she saw what he had written on her thigh. As for the other number…