Hawk ran his hand over the seams inside, and they were all intact. He shoved his hand into the larger side pockets—nothing there, either. He squatted down and laid the bag on the floor in front of Remy.
“Seek.” His dog started sniffing and poking at the bag with his nose, shoving it around on the floor. He showed a keen interest in a tiny pocket on the front, then sat down and looked up at Hawk.
“Cole, Remy hit on something.” Hawk could barely wedge his pinky finger into the pocket, but it brushed against something. “There’s definitely something here.” He rifled through his junk drawer and pulled out some needle-nose pliers. “I’ll try not to tear your bag.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “After this is over, I’m burning the stupid thing.”
He inserted the pliers into the inch-wide pocket, carefully gripped whatever was inside, and pulled out a black, plastic rectangular object about the size of an SD card.
“Found it.” Hawk rubbed Remy’s ears and thumped his hand on the dog’s side. “Good job, buddy.”
“That bitch.” Charlotte leaned in for a closer look but kept her hands behind her back, like she was afraid to touch it. “I should’ve known she’d be involved in all of this.”
Hawk turned it over in his hand and read off the information embossed on the back.
“That’s it.” Cole confirmed it was the one Kimball bought at the electronics store. “Destroy it, now.”
Hawk dropped the pliers back in the drawer and grabbed the small hammer. He set the device on the wooden cutting board he made in seventh grade, lifted the hammer, and brought it down on the tracker, smashing it into tiny pieces. He opened the cabinet beneath the sink and swept the pieces of the tracker into the garbage.
“Your perimeter alarm is set?” Cole had been there the day the system went live.
“Always.” The minute someone crossed onto his property, he would know about it.
“Good. We’re in the helo now, and Lucas said it’ll be about thirty to thirty-five minutes before we get to you.” Cole’s voice was slightly staticky, and the mutedchop chop chopof the rotor blades could be heard in the background. “We have to assume Kimball knows where you are and that he’s not coming alone. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing how many men he has with him.”
Hawk reached out, curled his fingers around the side of Charlotte’s neck, and looked her in the eyes as he said, “It won’t matter.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured that would be the case,” Cole said. “Save some for us, will ya?”
“No promises.” No one came to his home to hurt Charlotte and got away unscathed.
Hawk had been in combat, fighting for his brothers in arms and fulfilling the oath he’d taken when he first joined the Corps—to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.
This time—thisbattle—was personal.
“Be safe.” Cole ended the call.
“What do we do?” Charlotte looked scared but determined.
“First things first, you should probably put some pants on.” He gave her a small smile and tugged on the bottom of her shirt. “And I need to get some things from my room.”
She looked down at herself. “Oh, right. Good idea.”
They hustled back to his room, and she scooped her jeans up off the floor next to the bed, which was still messy from their earlier activities. She stepped into them, pulled them up her legs, and tucked his shirt into the waistband.
“Do you have a belt and a long-sleeved shirt with you?” Hawk asked.
“Yeah.” She nodded.
“Put them on and your shoes, too.” He reached over his shoulder, grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, and yanked it over his head.
“Got it.” Charlotte turned and hustled down the hall.
Hawk tossed his shirt on the bed, opened one of the bottom drawers, and grabbed a black, long-sleeved tech shirt. He shoved his arms in the sleeves and pulled it over his head. The dark tactical pants he’d put on earlier were perfect, and he already had his Glock .45 semiautomatic in a Kydex holster on his right hip.
With the fluidity and ease that came from years of experience, he popped out the magazine, ensured it was full, and slammed it back into place with the butt of his hand. He racked the slide back partially, saw a round in the chamber, then easily tucked the Glock into the holster.
Weapons were safely stashed throughout the house, so Hawk rarely had the need to carry a firearm when he was home. Having Charlotte with him changed everything.
