The Hunter (14 page)

Europol Databank had produced quite a bit of Llallana Noretski’s background. She had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, running into trouble with the law for theft and robbery. She had been a runaway, living off petty crime. She had spent some time with mercenaries before disappearing for a year. When she showed up again, she had remade herself. Officially, she was now an art procurer for small firms throughout Europe. He didn’t doubt that there was something gray going on under that business, but the files hadn’t provided any more information.

Probably blocked or wiped off by certain people. However, Brad could read between the lines. Her working with Amber, who was under contract with the CIA, was enough to show that she wasn’t just an art procurer. Brad traced the outline of her face on the photo.

Yet there was more to Llallana Noretski than being a criminal. She might be funding the escape of those kidnapped girls through illegal means, but at least she was doing something about the problem in her own way. He didn’t approve, but part of him secretly envied her ability to skip the hurdles created by laws meant to protect the innocent, but that had become impediments. In a society where crime ran rampant and there were more criminals than law keepers, bureaucracy was useless.

Brad’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. Which meant that he was fucking useless. Everything was twisted into some kind of warped justice. Lily was Robin Hood, saving the helpless. He was the fucking sheriff of Nottingham, or at least the bureaucracy was, what with so many around him on the take from the KLA. No wonder she looked at him as if he were garbage.

But not last night.

He traced the photograph again. Last night, she had that look again. She had gazed at him with the kind of yearning that made a man think of nothing but the blood pounding between his legs. There hadn’t been contempt in those dark eyes then. Not the moments before he’d kissed her. Not when she unzipped his pants and put her hands inside.

Brad closed his eyes, remembering her touch. It had been years since he had made out on a living room couch, but he didn’t seem to have any control at all when it came to Lily. The moment she had touched his zipper, he was a goner.

He would never be able to sit in that damn living room and simply watch a movie again. Not when he had been lying there as Lily slid off the sofa to settle between his legs, her sweet mouth driving him out of his mind. She hadn’t given him a chance to say anything, her tongue and lips—

“Sweet Jesus,” muttered Brad, feeling himself getting hard again.

He opened his eyes, massaging the area between his brows. What the hell was wrong with him? This was his office and he was thinking about sex. That was the problem. There hadn’t been sex. The woman had taken him to the brink and wanting to be inside her, he had pulled her onto his lap. Had inserted a desperate hand between her legs and found her panties damp. Had pushed the material aside desperately. She had gasped at his touch. He had been quite sure she gasped. He had slid his fingers inside and she had leaned over him with a moan. He had been sure there was a moan, as she clenched and contracted and…before he even knew it, she was off his lap, panic in her eyes as she stumbled and ran off.

By the time he had gotten his wayward penis back into his pants so he could go after her, Lily was gone. All he had left was her scent on his hand.

He hadn’t been able to sleep all night. Had she? What the hell went wrong? Everything had been fine until that moment. She had been soft and needy, wanting him—he knew she had wanted him.

She had driven him wild with her mouth. She had been wet for him and was close to coming herself—
he’d felt her starting to come.
And then…he shook his head…why did she stop it there, when they had both been so close?

The phone rang, cutting through his thoughts. Brad picked the receiver.

“Sir, that earlier report about a battle has been confirmed as gang warfare. NATO peacekeepers are on the way there. The commander is still waiting for orders, though.”

Brad frowned. “Why?”

“On which side to take out, sir.”

“Both sides,” Brad said. “They are both gangs, right? Bomb them to oblivion.”

“It isn’t that simple, sir. NATO has an agreement with the KLA that they won’t interfere with any local incidents if it’s outside jurisdiction areas.”

“There aren’t any areas not under NATO jurisdiction,” Brad pointed out. But he knew what was coming. NATO, the entity formed by European countries and the United States to defend Europe from the Soviet Union, had no power to attack unless specifically ordered by special sessions. Gang warfare outside the cities and villages technically didn’t fall under the category of defending citizens. When the underling started to explain, Brad cut in, “You don’t have to cite me bylaws and subarticles, Victor. At this late hour, I doubt there’ll be any Orders coming down till morning, and by then, who knows what will be left of the battle? Just make sure you get some information from the peacekeepers who are heading that way. Try to find out who and what’s involved. If it’s an emergency, call my cell or beeper.”

“Yes, sir.”

Brad rang off. He had stayed in the office later than usual because he hadn’t wanted to go home and look at that couch. He put away the file on his desk, picking up the thickest folder in his in-box to take home with him. Lots of work. That ought to banish the image of Llallana Noretski kneeling between his thighs, her hands and lips—Brad let out a colorful expletive between gritted teeth. Frustration didn’t sit well on an empty stomach. He hadn’t wanted dinner for the same reason he had avoided driving home. It was going to be a long night.

Hawk accepted the bottle of beer from the woman whose house Dilaver’s men had invaded. There was fear in her eyes as she served them whatever food and drinks she had. She kept darting worried glances at her kitchen and he had a feeling that someone was hiding back there. He wanted to tell her to stop giving herself away like that, but Dilaver was sitting nearby.

“So what do you think of my loot, Hawk?” Dilaver peeled a banana, nodding curtly at the woman when she offered him a fresh bottle of beer. “I want fresh meat for dinner and not some canned shit. You’d better have something good in that larder, lady.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll get started immediately.” She scurried off, giving another fearful backward glance before disappearing into the kitchen.

Dilaver noisily drank from his bottle. “Well?” He cocked his head at Hawk.

“It’s a lot of weapons,” Hawk said. “I’m still tabulating the cost and profit in my head.”

Dilaver laughed. “I like the way you think. No wonder your boss was unwilling to let me have you as a guide. He knew I’d try to get you away.”

Hawk shrugged. “I’m here on business for him, too. I haven’t agreed to work for you yet.”

“But you see how much money you can make if you take over here.”

Hawk had discovered the reason for the gang war. The mercenaries they had attacked were very close to finding one of Dilaver’s hidden caches of weapons. “The potential’s there,” Hawk said, “but too many people seem to be after your weapons.”

Dilaver frowned. “I don’t know how they found out the location. They were very close,” he said, bringing his thumb and forefinger within an inch of each other, “too damn close.”

“Could there be a leak in your organization?” Hawk asked casually.

Dilaver’s frown deepened. “I have been very careful. I don’t think so, but you never know. The weapons are very valuable on the black market.” He leaned forward. “That’s why I need you, Hawk. You can negotiate for me. Also, with your ties to Stefan, you have access to people like Maximillian Shoggi. If I could get Mad Max’s attention, I’d be swimming in dough.”

Maximillian Shoggi was one of the top international illegal weapons dealers. His influence in the shadowy world of politics and weapons-running was so great that he was constantly invited to elite parties given by powerful people.

“Mad Max? He has tons of the weapons you got, Dilaver.”

Hawk had been briefed on him by his agency and GEM. Mad Max had been responsible for killing a group of covert agents during an ill-fated mission. Since then GEM had been on a two-year operation, slowly applying a chokehold on the weapons dealer’s holdings, until he was now desperate to get his hands on any big item to replenish his coffers. GEM had plans for his future, and had informed the admiral and Hawk that under no circumstances would Dilaver be allowed to deal with Mad Max. That would give him an opportunity out of his hole.

“But I have something else besides the ones you just saw.” Dilaver leaned forward confidentially. “I don’t have enough information yet, but my aunt just informed me that it’s going to be something really big in the market. It’s in one of those hidden shipments that came down while I was gone.”

“Is that why you’re waiting so eagerly for her arrival?” Hawk asked, leaning back against his chair. “She can identify this weapon, right?”

Dilaver nodded. “Yes. So you just wait. It won’t be too long now.”

But Hawk already knew what the weapon was, and that he must get to it before Dilaver and his aunt got hold of it. “I never say no to new weapons,” he said. “I’ll stick around as long as I can. Meanwhile, though, it would help if you take me more on these side trips so I can see what the countryside looks like. As a guide, it’d help me to identify routes, and if I’m to work with you, that would be a big help in the future.”

“Absolutely,” Dilaver said. He finished his beer with gusto. “I’ll draw some maps for you so you can study them. The shipments were dropped in specific locations close to aid relief areas, so that’s why they are so scattered. Clever, huh? The U.S. government hasn’t even realized they have been used.”

Hawk drank down his beer. Once he had the maps, he would be able to find the targeted dropped shipments. Then he was going to need Amber Hutchens.

The thought of traveling and hiking through the countryside with the woman was both intriguing and worrying. When he had tested her the other night, she had kept up with him, but that was for three hours. What about a week? He had never done anything strenuous with a woman before, so he had no idea…he smiled despite himself…okay, not
that
kind of strenuous activity.

“And what are you smiling about?”

“I was thinking about the owner of The Last Resort,” Hawk answered truthfully. “Since I might be staying longer, I thought I would get to know her better.”

“Ah, Amber. I knew you would like her. She is, how do you say it…” Dilaver paused, gesturing with his mug, then reverted to English. “Your cup of tea. Right up your trail.”

“Right up your alley,” Hawk corrected.

Dilaver frowned. “Trail, alley, path, same thing,” he said.

“Nuances,” Hawk explained, “are very important in idioms. You know how I mess up Serbian slang and you guys laugh.”

“True, but our idioms make sense. How can a woman being right up your trail mean anything sexy? Bah. Stupid. But back to Amber and her”—Dilaver waggled his eyebrows—“delicious assets. I bet you want to have a taste, huh? Are you going to ask her out?”

Hawk shrugged. He didn’t want to discuss Amber with Dilaver, although he did need to show an interest in her so it would look natural if he went out with her. “If I’m staying longer, yes, it’d be nice to get a bit closer. But you said she has a boyfriend.”

“Yes, she’s a pretty woman! Of course she has one. And a powerful man, too. That’s why you should get her between the sheets. It would please me no end to see that son of a bitch CIVPOL chief losing his girlfriend to one of my friends.” Dilaver laughed. “That would be funny. I’ll laugh my arse off. And don’t correct me about ‘ass’ and ‘arse.’ At least I’m not using the stupid phrase ‘you cracked me up.’”

It still felt strange to know that the Macedonian and he spent time teaching each other idioms in their respective languages. But then, as Jed had warned Hawk before he had taken on the mission, everything was going to be upside down when he became “friends” with the enemy. To get close, he had to establish an easy camaraderie. He hated that piece of crap sitting across the table from him but had to hide it.

“You can always say ‘bust a gut,’” Hawk said lazily. Dilaver laughed, shaking his head. He looked up to see the woman coming out of the kitchen, carrying some bowls. She avoided meeting the men’s eyes as she set them down.

“Hurry up, woman, we are all hungry. Do you want us to go in the kitchen to help you?” one of Dilaver’s men asked.

She couldn’t disguise her look of panic. “No…everything will be ready soon. Please, no need…. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Hey, you can have mine first if you’re that hungry,” Hawk said, trying to distract the young man who was watching the woman a bit too closely. “Come join us. Here, have a beer.”

The man caught the bottle Hawk lobbed at him and he twisted the cap. “Thank you. You’re probably not used to killing like we are,” he said as he walked over, “but there’s nothing like war to make a guy horny. Right now even that old bitch looks good to me.”

“I bet Hawk hasn’t seen a day of fighting like the kind we do,” another chimed in. Catching Hawk’s eyes, he added hastily, “I mean, you’re pretty good with that fucking knife, but something like today’s…You were hiding in the bushes, Hawk. I saw you.”

Hawk drank down his beer. War was his business. He had been trained for action in warfare on sea, land, and air. And he hadn’t been hiding in the bushes today. But he couldn’t say any of his thoughts out loud. “Yeah, well, it saved my life,” he said instead.

“Too bad about our guys with you. They were good fighters. I wish we caught that fucker who killed them.”

“There were quite a few of them, but I got them before they took off in the trucks,” Hawk said.

“I wish they hadn’t been killed that easily,” Dilaver said in between bites of food. “I wanted to question them about how they knew of my weapons being there.”

Hawk didn’t say that he had been busy making sure that no one who was going to be captured was left alive. It had to be done that way. The few he had set free, including Dija, the leader, understood this. Dija had nodded in the dark and had fiercely whispered, “I owe you. Come collect your
veza
if you need one,” before jumping into his truck with the few men left.