Her head fell heavy onto his chest, her arms wrapped weakly around his neck, and her body shook with chills and sobs. He carried her across the porch, up the two steps, and back into the house.
He brought her to the kitchen, placed her down on the counter, and brushed the wet hair off her face. He smiled at her and stretched for a towel. It was just out of reach.
“You’re going to have to let go,” he said.
“I don’t want to.”
She stared into his eyes and he sensed that calmness had returned to her. The fear was gone; she felt safe in his arms. And Hawker had to admit it felt good to have her there.
She leaned forward and kissed him. When he didn’t pull away, she pulled him closer, holding on tightly and kissing him harder. He kissed her back, feeling the warmth of her body through their wet clothes and giving in to feelings he’d kept at bay for months. Feelings that Sonia had made clear to him but Hawker had chosen not to act on.
It wasn’t that she was too young; she wasn’t. She was twenty. He was only thirty. It wasn’t that he worked for her father. Or that they spent their days as virtual prisoners who could not let their guard down. Those reasons had never really mattered, and to whatever extent they had, they evaporated as he kissed her and pulled her close.
In the heat and the passion of lust and love and breaking away from the fear, all thoughts left him except one: The moment he got Sonia and Ranga to freedom, to some civilized part of the world, he would have to let her go. There was nowhere for this to go, nothing ahead except pain for both of them.
That thought lingered, even as they pulled off each other’s soaking wet shirts and their hands began exploring each other’s bodies.
“Take me with you,” she asked, giving voice to Hawker’s lingering fear.
“I can’t,” he said. “It won’t be good for you.”
“It can’t be worse than this,” she said.
“It’s always worse than this,” he said. Until recently, guarding her and Ranga had been like heaven. Whatever was next would be closer to hell.
“I don’t care,” she said, her eyes closed, her words breathless as she pressed the side of her face against his. “I don’t care.”
Hawker wanted not to care, but he knew in his heart that he couldn’t do that to her. Not if he loved her. Not even if he didn’t.
The door banged open behind them. Hawker turned with a start.
Two men in fatigues, one white, one black, stood there. The white man held the keys to the truck.
“You lose these?” he said.
The men had been watching. From where, Hawker didn’t know, but this was a bad sign. It may have tipped their hand.
Hawker turned and stood with his back toward Sonia. He put his hands against the countertop. His fingers found a knife.
“That’s a nice piece of ass you got there,” the white man said. He turned to the black soldier. “What do you say we get some of that?”
As the man spoke, Hawker gripped the knife and charged. The white soldier swung his head back around just as Hawker slammed into him, plunging the knife into his chest. Gunfire sprayed into the floor and off to the right as the soldier squeezed the trigger on his weapon reflexively.
Hawker pushed him back, slamming him into the black soldier. The three of them crashed to the ground. Hawker pulled the knife out and plunged it into the black soldier’s neck. It erupted with blood. The man’s head tilted back and his eyes rolled up.
Hawker held it there, held the two men down as they died. And then a shot rang out.
He snapped his head around in time to see a third soldier fall in the doorway.
He turned back to the kitchen. Sonia held his pistol, her hands shaking. She and Ranga had sworn they would never kill, but to save him Sonia had done just that.
Hawker stood, grabbed one of the rifles, and scanned the terrain outside the door. A military jeep with a hardtop sat there. It appeared to be empty.
He backed up to Sonia. She was still shaking, still aiming the pistol where she’d fired it.
“It’s okay,” he said, helping her to lower the gun.
Her eyes blinked and she refocused on him as the sound of thunder rumbled again.
“Put this on,” he said, handing her shirt back to her.
She nodded slowly and slipped her arms into the shirt.
“We have to go,” he said, pulling his own shirt on.
She seemed confused. “What?”
“We have no choice now,” he said.
She turned to him and instead of fear or concern, all he saw was relief. They would finally be leaving this horrible place, and whatever happened they would never be coming back.
CHAPTER 44
Danielle came out of the interrogation room exhausted. She and Hawker had been taking four-hour shifts. Keegan had gone out. Like Moore he was trying to “tap any contact” he could find in hopes that there was information on the street about this group that the intelligence agencies did not have.
Trying to get information out of the prisoner, they’d kept the lights blazing, forced him to sit with his hands tied behind his back and questioned him repeatedly. When they weren’t firing questions at him, they taped a pair of headphones to his skull, blasting Western rock and roll into his ears. Danielle had also injected him with various stimulants and barbiturates that were supposed to weaken his resolve and loosen his tongue. But so far they’d gotten nothing from him, except a name he claimed over and over: Scindo.
As she left the room, she propped the door open and sat where she could keep her eyes on him. Considering the nature of the cult they were dealing with, she feared he might try to kill himself. It wouldn’t be easy with his hands and feet taped but she wasn’t taking any chances.
Hawker was supposed to be sleeping during her shift, but she found him sitting at the kitchen table with one of the 9 mm Berettas lying in front of him. He had the clip out and was loading it methodically, carefully slotting in one bullet after another, making sure they seated correctly, as if it mattered.
She’d seen the odd-looking type of shells before. It wasn’t a good sign. Hawker was nearing the breaking point.
“We can’t wait much longer,” he said.
Over the past sixteen hours Hawker had grown quiet, aloof, as if he couldn’t talk to her now. He hadn’t slept much more than their prisoner. Certainly she’d found it hard to sleep during his shifts, fearing Hawker would take the situation into his own hands.
They’d discussed several options, none of which she liked. And since then, Hawker had been brooding in silence.
“I’m not the enemy,” she said.
He looked up.
“I know that,” he mumbled, then went back to the loading.
At least they were talking.
She thought how heavy his heart must be. Feeling betrayed from all sides.
“You sent a text to Lavril,” she said.
“Tapping my phone now?”
“Keeping an eye on my partner.”
He didn’t seem to buy that answer. “I need to know what caliber gun was used at rue des Jardins,” he explained. “Lavril said it was a small caliber, maybe twenty-five.”
“Why?”
“Sonia mentioned being in Paris the day that all went down. She said she was looking for her father but now I’m not so sure.”
Danielle sat back, surprised. “You think she’s involved in this?”
He exhaled heavily, sounding worn-out. “What if she was at the house?” he said. “What if that.25-caliber pistol she gave you is the one that finished off those guys.”
“Hawker …”
“She and Ranga had a falling-out,” he added. “She told me she led that cult to Ranga. That she had contact with them before he did. What if all of them were involved, desperate to figure out how to save Nadia, and then Ranga bailed? His message said not to trust anybody.”