“This isn’t your territory either. These are fresh. Two—maybe three hours old.”
“You’ve been trained to read tire tracks now?” I said with a smirk,
He looked up at me with that lazy grin that made my pulse trip. “You forget who you’re talking to, sweetheart. I’ve been trained to read a lot worse than tracks.”
My cheeks heated, and I turned away. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Fine. Julia.” His voice was soft and teasing, but his eyes remained sharp as he scanned the woods. “Whoever’s out here has been watching the house.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I’m trying to figure out why they picked this area.”
“Because it’s quiet. Remote. No cameras, no traffic.” He stood, brushing dirt from his hands. “Perfect for a drop zone.”
I crossed my arms. “You sound like you’ve done this before. If the Colombian cartel is here, then someone in the government knows about it.”
“I’ve done this a lot of times. I’ll find out who knows about it.” His tone shifted, serious now. “Julia, these people don’t justpush drugs. They bury problems. You and your family need to stay out of this.”
“I can’t do that.”
He stepped closer, close enough for me to smell the faint scent of cedar and soap. “Then at least don’t do it alone.”
“I’m not alone.”
His jaw flexed. “Your sisters don’t count. They’re civilians with a license to poke their noses into danger.”
“Just because you think you’re some kind of hero doesn’t mean the rest of us need saving.”
He smiled, slow and maddening. “I don’t save people, Julia. I protect them. Big difference.”
For a second, neither of us spoke. The squirrels chased each other from tree to tree. They were loud and constant, filling the silence between us.
Then a sharp crack echoed through the trees.
Gunfire.
Hawk moved before I could react, yanking me down behind the truck. Another shot rang out, kicking up dirt beside my tire.
“Stay down,” he ordered.
“Like hell,” I hissed, drawing my weapon and peeking around the bumper. “They’re in the trees!”
“Two shooters,” Hawk said, calm as if he were counting groceries. “South ridge, about fifty yards.”
“How do you—”
He squeezed my arm. “Because I’ve been in this dance before. You cover me; I’ll flank.”
“Flank? Hawk, this isn’t a war zone!”
He gave me that infuriating grin again. “You’d be surprised.”
Before I could stop him, he sprinted toward the side of the fence, moving low and fast. My heart jumped to my throat. I fired a warning shot toward the trees, forcing the shooters to duck. Seconds later, the woods went silent.
“Hawk!” I called.
No answer. My heart was pounding.
Then I heard a grunt, the thud of a body hitting the ground, and Hawk stepped out of the brush, dragging one of the gunmen by the collar. The man’s face was bloodied, his pistol lying somewhere back in the woods.
