Chapter Twelve
Margo stretched and looked at the ceiling.
Where am I?
“Margo?” The husky voice penetrated the silence.
Had she been dreaming of Hawkeye?
Sitting up, she saw his massive silhouette near the end of the bed. She blinked the rest of the sleep from her eyes.
“Hawkeye?” A cool breeze swept across her chest. The blanket had fallen away from her, exposing her bare breasts.
She hurried and dragged the blanket back up.
Because the room was cast in shadows she couldn’t see his expression.
Could he see her in the moonlight flowing in through the open slats of the blind? “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I came to check on you,” he said in a throaty octave.
“Why? I’m okay. Turn around,” she demanded. Once his back was to her, she stood and wrapped the blanket around her body. “I’m decent.” She walked to the lamp and flipped the switch. Golden light flooded the small space and Hawkeye’s features. He looked tired.
He turned around. “I’m guessing you didn’t eat dinner.”
She shook her head. Her hair was still slightly damp from the shower. “Did you?”
“I grabbed something and thought I’d bring you something. I know it’s late, but it’ll warm up okay in the microwave. This place does have a microwave, right?” He shifted on his dusty boots.
She could see the plastic-covered plate sitting on the table. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m starving. I’m always starving.” She walked over to the table and stopped, looking back at him. “You also brought notebooks and pens?”
His steely gaze journeyed slowly down her, all the way to the tips of her neon pink painted toenails. Although there were at least four feet between them she felt the touch of his gaze all the way into her bones.
“It’s not as efficient as a laptop, but it’s better than nothing.” The corners of his lips tilted into a boyish grin.
“Thank you.” She peeled back the plastic from the paper plate filled with something that smelled divine. “What is this?”
“Chicken enchiladas, I think. Anyway, it tasted like enchiladas.”
She grabbed a fork from the holder on the counter and dug in. “Oh my God, that’s so good, even cold,” she said around a mouth full. She realized he was staring at her, his brows knitted. “Sorry.”
“No apology needed. Glad you like it.” He scratched his chin. “I see you found some clothes.”
“CaDee brought them. She’s sweet. That reminds me. Hang on a moment.” She set her plate aside to grab his shirt from the hook in the bathroom. “I’d wash it before returning it, but I don’t have a washer.”
He took it and slung it over his shoulder. “Thanks for returning it. It’s my favorite.”
She figured as much. His generosity in bringing her dinner and the writing materials, she felt like she needed to clear the air between them.
“Look, I know we didn’t quite start out on the friendliest terms, but I do want to say thank you for your help.
Neither of us have a clue what’s happening and it’s mind-blowing, but I do feel safe here. ”
“Glad to be of service.” He glanced over at the fireplace. “How about I get that started for you? It’s going to be a cool night.”
She started to refuse his help but then realized the only person she was hurting was herself. The cottage had a chill in the air, and it could take her a while to get a fire going. “Sure. I’d appreciate that.”
He went about preparing the wood in the fireplace and she latched her attention on his bottom.
He had a nice firm backside, and the Wranglers did an excellent job of cupping his cheeks.
She’d never been an ass-woman, but Hawkeye made her reevaluate a lot of things.
Like beards, calluses, and long, muscular legs. Even brooding personalities.
He stood and swiped his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “That should do you for the night.”
“It’s warmer already.” But she didn’t tell him that the temperature rise had nothing to do with the fire.
He took a step toward the door but didn’t make a move to leave. “I wanted to let you know that I’m heading to the federal prison tomorrow to speak to Silver.”
“Really? Alone?”
“Yes, alone.”
“Have you forgotten that we’re partners in this? I want to go too,” she said.
He didn’t like the idea because his scowl had returned full force. “Not a good idea.”
“Why?” She tugged the blanket tighter around her body.
“Because.”
“That’s not an answer,” she huffed.
“You’re not meeting Silver.”
“Fine, but I’ll tag along just the same.”
“Fine. Tagalong.” His brows knitted.
“Thanks for the warm welcome.” She felt as though they were taking a step forward only to shuffle back two steps.
“I’m leaving early. At the crack of sunrise. It’s a bit of a drive. If you’re not up, ready and standing by my truck when I roll out, you’ll be left behind.”
“Don’t worry. I’m an early riser.”
“Probably best you’re not left alone here anyway.”
She narrowed her gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Seems like you enjoy pushing the boundaries.”
“Where’s the road trip taking us?”
“Huntsville Federal Prison.”
“The super-max prison? How does Silver manage to still run his gang in a tight lockdown prison?”
“Men like him find ways.”
She felt like he wasn’t telling her the entire story, but if she pushed too hard, he’d probably leave her tomorrow. She chose to remain quiet, at least until they were on the road. “Do you really think he had something to do with Leo’s death?”
He gave a slight shrug. “Can’t be sure, but it’s worth looking into. You did say the suited man had the tattoo.”
“It just felt…”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Staged, maybe.”
“You thinking it wasn’t Silver who ordered the hit on Davani, but the person who did wanted Silver to take the blame?” He swiped off his hat and held it against his chest.
She hesitated, working her thoughts around inside her head.
“The way you’ve described Silver and his gang of thugs, it just feels like they would have taken care of me right there on the street without anyone being the wiser.
The suited man, I just feel like he was playing a role.
If he took the time to disguise himself in dark sunglasses and beard, why wouldn’t he hide the tattoo? ”
“I’ve thought about that too.” Although the click in his jaw was very subtle, she saw it.
“I’ve always believed it’s best to know everything you can about a dangerous situation.
Knowledge is power. I probably won’t learn a damn thing from Silver, but I need to try.
At some point every criminal wants to talk. ”
That made sense to her. “And you think Silver’s the weak link? Not one of his thugs?”
“It’s likely that anyone on the street won’t have the information we need.
Silver though, I bet he has enough dirt to bring down several people.
” He glanced at the door like the exit was pulling him toward it.
“I should let you eat. I have some things to take care of still since I’ll be gone most of the day tomorrow. Remember, crack of dawn.”
“I’ll be there.”
He looked back at her from the doorway. “I know I can be anti-social and a bit rough around the edges at times, but I want you to know that you can trust me. I understand that’s asking a lot for a stranger you’ve known for less than six hours.”
“What happened to you telling me I shouldn’t trust you?” She couldn’t resist.
“We might not like being attached to each other, but this is where we are right now. I’m a team player and no doubt the best chance of survival starts with having your teammates’ backs. We’re a team.”
That made her smile. They were finally getting somewhere. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He closed the door in finality.
Margo stepped over to the screen door and looked out.
Hawkeye disappeared into the shadows. She started to close the outer door but the dim light from the porch caught movement near the edge of the woods.
She searched the shadows, seeing nothing, but she could hear the crunching of sticks and leaves “Hawkeye?” she called out but received no response.
She guessed the deer had moved closer to the cottages in the dark.
Closing and locking the door, she retrieved the slip of paper Leo had given her from her jeans. Carefully unfolding it she read the address that she didn’t recognize, and a passcode that only made her more curious. She felt another headache encroaching on her skull.
Searching for a good hiding spot, she lifted a potted plant on the windowsill and placed the paper underneath. For now, she would keep the information to herself.
*****
The activities inside the bunkhouse poured outside as Hawkeye approached the door.
Some of the crew played poker at a worn table while others threw popcorn at the TV, frustrated by the football game. Hawkeye, preoccupied, hoped to get sleep.
The fellows must have sensed his distance because they gave short greetings and went back to what they were doing.
Making his way to his room, he thought how lucky he was to have privacy in the bunkhouse. It was a helluva lot nicer than a lot of places where he’d laid his head.
Grabbing his towel from the hook on the back of the door, he pulled off his shirt on his way to the bathroom. There were three stand-up showers divided with glass walls and doors, and he chose his favorite. The one with the pulsating head.
Turning the knob to hot, he finished undressing and climbed inside, squinting as the water burned his skin. He’d had a long day and tomorrow would be longer.
As he stood under the spray, he allowed the heat to loosen his muscles.
His mind wandered. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be the one to interview Silver, but Hawkeye had called in a favor from an old buddy, Wade “Warlock” Hughes, who had the authority as an agent.
It struck a nerve with Hawkeye. He wanted to face Silver, but there were too many risks involved.
To most law enforcement, the Texas Heat team had been disassembled and no longer existed.
There were very few people outside of the team who knew they still operated covertly.
Warlock could be trusted and wouldn’t ask questions.
As slimy as Silver was, the likelihood that he was framed was a possibility.
Grabbing up the bar of soap, Hawkeye scrubbed his body until it tingled.
Shit.
Tomorrow he’d spend another day with Margo.
He shouldn’t have walked into the cottage today. He overreacted when she didn’t come to the door. For that he’d received a tormenting view of her naked body cast in moonlight. That made his dick hard and his brain mush.
Rinsing off then indulging in an extra-long shower, he got out and dried off. Hooking the towel around his hips, he strode back down to his room and reached for his laptop from under the bed. Switching it on and passing facial recognition and fingerprint verification, he read his encrypted emails.
Nothing of interest.
He typed Margo Deveraux into the search engine and her social media, blogs and books popped up. He scrolled down and clicked on her picture. Her hair was lighter, and she was smiling. There was something missing in her smile though.
Hawkeye went back to her website and read her bio.
“Margo Deveraux is the author of the Red Feather series, set in modern time Wyoming. Ms. Deveraux has a sharp eye for detail and is equipped with a knack for keeping readers in suspense. When not writing, this author can be found listening to jazz, solving puzzles, or taking long walks at her favorite time of the day. Sundown.”
He wondered how much of the description was true.
Clicking on a link, he downloaded one of her books titled, “Sharp Descent”.
Shutting down his laptop, he placed it back in the backpack and as he did, he saw the envelope of Margo’s pictures.
He still needed to discard them.
He grabbed the envelope just as a knock came on the door. He shoved the envelope back inside the bag and gave it a push out of view under his bed.
Readjusting the towel around his waist, he stepped over to open the door. Bear stood on the other side looking like he could bite a rusty nail in half.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Hawkeye asked.
“There’s another fucking break in the fence and some of the horses escaped. I’m rounding up help.”
“I’ll get dressed and be out in five.”
“I’ll go saddle up our horses.”
Hawkeye dressed in record time. He didn’t have a problem being called out for emergencies.
He’d never been a man who shucked work—any work.
It kept him balanced. He just hoped he would get back in time to read a bit of Margo’s novel.
He wanted to see how her mind worked and what better way than to read one of her books.