A second later, they heard the distinctivethwipsound of a gun with a suppressor.
There was a deep grunt, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.
“One down.” Eddie updated them from the kitchen.
Some obnoxious game show blared on the television, and Hawk grabbed the remote from the coffee table and clicked it off.
Viking moved forward and began clearing rooms, his rifle up and ready to fire.
“I said, get down!” Cole shouted and pointed his rifle at the guy on the couch. “Do it! Now!”
Finally, the moron tossed the sub onto the table, got to his knees, then sprawled out face-down on the floor, his arms stretched wide. Cole yanked zip ties from his vest and secured the asshole’s hands behind his back and his legs together at his ankles. He started digging through his pockets and pulled a semiautomatic pistol from his waistband.
“Here, take this.” He handed it to Hawk, who tucked it in a pocket on his vest.
“Who the hell are—”
Cole pressed his forearm against the back of the guy’s neck and leaned in close. “Shut the fuck up.”
He coughed and grunted, then decided it would be a good idea to do as he was told and shut the fuck up.
“All clear.” Eddie stepped into the front room.
“Found ’em!” Calliope called out from the back of the house. Some of the kids were crying, and she quietly reassured them. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
She was as tough as any man Hawk knew, and she had one hell of a reputation as a sniper. She also had a gift for dealing with victims.
In that way, she reminded him of Charlotte Cavanaugh. She was incredibly empathetic and compassionate with the victims she counseled. Though, unlike Calliope, he doubted Charlotte had ever climbed a tree, sighted in a bad guy, and taken them out.
Charlotte had recently begun consulting with Every Last Child, ELC. A successful nonprofit established by Dulce Lambert, Cole’s wife and the daughter of a very powerful US senator. ELC provided financial and material support to organizations around the world that worked to save people trapped in the human trafficking trade. Once they were liberated, ELC would help reunite them with family, if they had any, and would provide whatever follow-on care they might require, including medical treatments and therapy.
Which was where Charlotte came in.
Hawk wasn’t sure why he was thinking about Charlotte in the middle of an op. Lately, thoughts of her seemed to pop up multiple times a day.
She’d been to the Dark Ops facility several times to lead some training classes on how to deal with victims and things like that. Afterward, they would all go out for dinner somewhere, and he’d always made a point to sit next to her. But the closest thing to one-on-one time with her was the few times he’d convinced her to let him walk her to her car. It had taken three classes before he could convince her to call him Hawk instead of Patrick.
Unfortunately, their time together always seemed to fly by too quickly, and he’d hated watching her drive away.
Eddie had been goading him to ask her out, but his teammate was also the kind of guy who never committed to anyone. Calliope called him a man-whore, and she wasn’t wrong.
Unlike Eddie, Hawk was a very private guy, and he was pretty particular about the people he invited into his life.
“Coming out.” Calliope stepped into the hallway and stood at the front of the group, holding hands with one of the little girls.
“Right behind ya, babe.” Lucas brought up the rear, carrying another little one. “And what a behind it is.”
“You’re such a pig.” She shook her head, and her grin softened the sting out of the insult.
“Yeah, but I’myourpig.” Lucas and Calliope were more than just teammates at work, they were teammates in life, too.
Eddie held up his hand.
“Guys, hold up a sec.” He rushed into the bedroom, came out with a comforter, and threw it over the body on the floor. “Okay, bring ’em through.”
The kids were guided out through the kitchen, with Eddie and Lucas doing their best to block their view of the dead guy.
Once they were safely outside, Hawk and Remy got to work.
