Shadow Hawk

Okay, he had her there.

“And you haven’t yet decided to finally trust me.”

And there.

“What do you think I’m going to do, anyway?” she asked.

He laughed and rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Oh, I don’t know. Turn me in to Tibbs before I can prove my innocence.” He shrugged out of his flak vest and outer shirt, leaving him in just the black T-shirt. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to go to sleep only to wake up to you driving me directly to the ATF. I left my Get Out of Jail Free card at home.”

“If we just went to Regional and laid out all the events in the order that they happened, I’m sure-”

“Sure what? That I’ll get a fair trial before death row?”

“If you’re innocent-”

“If? Jesus, Abby.” Sending her a stare that was filled with just enough hurt to stab right at her heart, he got out of the truck and slammed the door.

Abby shook her head at herself. Truth was, she believed him. Or she wanted to. How terrifying was that? With a sigh, she followed, the pre-dawn air slapping her face, stinging her skin. “Hawk, wait.”

He tipped his head up at the still-dark sky, then turned to look at her, his expression pure resistance, frustration-and also reluctant affection.

God.

It was that, that got her. Because a murderer would not be looking at her as if he couldn’t decide between kissing her and wrapping his fingers around her neck, would he?

“I didn’t mean…” She trailed off, and he looked as if he was resisting the urge to thunk his head on the trunk of the truck.

Straightening, he drew in a deep breath and lifted his hands, stabbing them into his hair. The muscles in his shoulders and arms were tense, straining the sleeves of his T-shirt.

She’d experienced his strength firsthand last night and did not want to go another round with him.

Which did not in any way explain the little quiver that occurred low in her belly.

“I called about Logan while you were asleep,” he said. “He’s still in intensive care.” Hawk shook his head. “He didn’t fall from that roof. No way in hell.” He dropped his arms to his side and let her see everything he was feeling, which was more of that rage, frustration, exhaustion and also an underlying need for her to believe in him. “He didn’t call you back.”

Yeah. She’d noticed. If Gaines was on the up and up, and alive, he’d have called her back. Unless, of course, he really was dead. “Maybe the fire did get him-”

“It didn’t.”

“How do you know he didn’t die from his gunshot?”

“It was a flesh wound. Nothing more. And now he has the ultimate freedom.”

Abby shut her door and came around to the front of the truck to face him. “You’re certain he’s not dead.”

Fingers still shoved in his hair, he closed his eyes and drew a breath. “I’d stake my life on it.”

His body was taut as an arrow. She came up only to his shoulders, and she knew damn well he could have used physical force to coerce her to do whatever he wanted, but other than when she’d lost it completely last night, he hadn’t. In fact, he’d done everything within his power not to hurt her, even when she’d hurt him.

Then he opened his eyes and let her look at him, into him, hiding nothing at all. She peered into his face for a long beat and he stared straight back at her, as if he was hoping to hell she was finding the honesty she sought because he couldn’t possibly lay himself more bare.

“The Gaines I know loves justice,” she finally said.

“No, he loves to win.”

Yes, that was true, too. He’d taken great pride in all the cases he’d closed, and that was no secret.

“I realize you have a bond with him.” Hawk said this just a little too tightly, as if maybe he hated thinking about it.

“He saved me,” she reminded him.

He shocked her by reaching for her hand. “I know.”

She stared down at their joined fingers. “Hawk?”

“Yeah?”

“Just before I was taken, I’d been working on the Kiddie Bombers.”

“Yeah? There were a lot of agents across the whole western region doing so.”

“I felt like I was really making a breakthrough.” Her voice trailed off and they stared at each other. “This is insane,” she whispered. “You know that.”

“Insane, but real.”

“He saved me from the very men that you’d like to prove work for him. My God. He did this, he set all this up.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Yeah. I think so. Abby, I’m sorry, but I will prove it.”

Her gaze searched his. “He knew who had me. He let them have me.” Images bombarded her, the terror, the overwhelming certainty that she was dead. And then being all too alive-“He ordered me held captive,” she repeated in disbelief.

“God, Abby.” His low, husky voice brought her back. “I don’t want to dredge it up for you, I just-”

“You just want me to know that the reason I made it out of there alive is the only reason that I was there in the first place.” Sickened, she closed her eyes.

“I think he wanted to make himself the good guy. Your good guy.”

The men who’d taken her had been well-versed in how to get the answers they wanted. And what they’d wanted from her was any concrete knowledge she had on the Kiddie Bombers, which hadn’t been all that much. But she’d been chained up, then left alone in the pitch-black for four long hours before they’d come for her, knowing by then she’d be half out of her mind. And she had been.

They’d just begun to really have fun with her while she’d been trying desperately to pretend she was somewhere, anywhere, else, when Gaines had come in, gun drawn, taking two of her assailants out without blinking.

The other two had run like scared little bunnies while Gaines had freed her and carried her out.

She’d never questioned how he’d known, how he’d killed only two of the four and yet been able to get her out of there without either of them being killed.

It had never occurred to her to be anything but grateful. Extremely grateful.

“Abby.”

She opened her eyes.

Hawk had stepped close. “I hate bringing you back there.” He slid his hands in her hair. “I hate myself for making you think about it at all. But my life depends on it.

“I can’t think this way,” she whispered. “I’ll fall apart.”

“Then I’ll think that way. All I’m asking you to do is give me a chance. Don’t send me to the gallows yet.”

“So what now? Do you think we’re going to go in there and I’m going to sleep with you?”

“No, I think I’m going to sleep, and you’re possibly going to stab me in my sleep. Which is slightly preferable to going to jail.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

“Okay, what? You’re going to stab me in my sleep?”

“I guess you’ll have to take your chances on that, won’t you.” She turned and headed up the front walk to the door. Her clothes felt damp and icy, though she knew that was more from shock than anything else because Hawk had been running the heater in the truck for hours.

But she felt as if she’d never get warm again.

He caught up with her with his long-legged stride, and reached out and took her hand in a sweet gesture.

Or maybe to keep her from running. Although where he thought she was going to run off to, she had no idea.

Opening the rough wooden gate, he let her in. There were several low lights lining the walk, illuminating an antique-covered wagon in the front yard and the house, complete with old-style shutters and white lace curtains