Chapter 9 Hawk #2
“Julia,” I said, stepping closer. “You’re dead on your feet. You’re more useful alive.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Yeah? Tell that to the guy who tried to shoot you on a dirt road outside the mine.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue. That alone told me how tired she was.
“I’ll follow you home,” I said. “Make sure you get there in one piece.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I do.”
For a second, something unguarded flickered across her face. Then she swallowed it down and nodded.
“Fine,” she said. “But once I’m inside, you’re going back to the cabin.”
“Sure,” I lied.
Julia’s place sat on the far side of the lake, a small cottage with peeling paint and a wraparound porch. I remember my mom wanted me to buy this home, so I lived near them. She’d liked Julia, even back then. Always said we’d end up together if I didn’t screw it up. Instead, I moved away.
I parked on the side of the road, lights off, watching as Julia’s truck pulled into the gravel drive. The rain had eased up to a stubborn drizzle, mist hanging over the water like smoke.
She got out slowly, moving like she weighed twice as much as she did. Her porch light flicked on, a yellow cone in the fog.
I scanned the tree line. Quiet. Too quiet.
My gut tightened.
She reached the steps, hand fishing in her pocket for her keys. The moment her foot hit the first riser, the night exploded.
The flash came first—white and sharp from the trees. Then the crack of a rifle.
“Julia!” I shouted.
The bullet hit the porch post inches from her shoulder, splintering wood. She dropped instinctively, rolling to the side as another shot hit the railing.
I was already out of the truck, gun in hand, moving fast and low. I saw the muzzle flare again in the treeline and fired back, my shots cracking through the mist.
“Get inside!” I yelled. “Go!”
She scrambled on hands and knees toward the side of the house. Another shot screamed over her head, blowing out the porch light.
I put myself between her and the trees, firing in short bursts, forcing the shooter to duck. The deeper shadows swallowed him, but I tracked movement—a shape breaking away, running.
Coward.
I moved toward the tree line, but Julia’s voice cut through the adrenaline. “Hawk! Don’t!”
I swore under my breath and backed toward the house, keeping my gun trained on the woods until I hit the siding. The engine of a truck roared to life somewhere in the dark, then faded down the old service road.
Silence fell, heavy and ringing.
“You hit?” I asked, turning toward her.
She sat on the kitchen floor, back against the cabinets, one hand pressed to her upper arm. Blood smeared her fingers.
“It’s fine,” she said, voice shaking. “Just grazed.”
“Let me see.”
“Hawk, I—”
“Julia,” I said, sharper than I meant to. “Let. Me. See.”
She glared at me but dropped her hand. The wound was shallow, a red groove along her bicep. It could’ve been a lot worse.
I forced my hands to steady as I ripped open a drawer, found a dish towel, and pressed it gently against the cut. She hissed through her teeth, knuckles white, as she grabbed the towel.
“You’re okay,” I murmured. “You’re okay.”
“Define okay,” she said weakly.
“You’re still arguing with me,” I said. “That counts.”
Outside, the wind rattled the gutter. Somewhere down the lake, a dog barked once, then went quiet.
She looked up at me, eyes wide and dark. “You don’t have to protect me.”
“Yeah,” I said, something hot and tight rising in my chest. “I do.”
“That’s not your job,” she whispered.
“It’s the only job I want,” I shot back.
The words hung between us, heavier than the storm, heavier than the blood on her arm.
Her lips parted, like she wanted to say something, but whatever it was died before it reached her mouth. She looked away.
I swallowed, forcing myself to pull back. “Come on. I need to clean this properly. Where’s your first-aid kit?”
“Bathroom,” she said quietly. “Under the sink.”
I found it, brought it back, and went to work. Disinfectant, sterile pads, and tape. She watched me in silence, only flinching once when the alcohol hit the raw skin.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“Liar,” she said.
I huffed a laugh. “Maybe a little.”
When I finished, I sat back on my heels. “You’re not staying here.”
She scowled. “Excuse me?”
“Someone just tried to put a bullet through you on your front porch,” I said. “They know where you live. They know your schedule. You’re not staying here.”
“My whole life is here,” she said. “I can’t just—”
“For now,” I cut in. “Just until we find whoever pulled that trigger and the person paying him.”
She shook her head. “Where would I even go?”
“My dad’s,” I said. “His house is already crawling with ex-soldiers. One more person won’t make a difference.”
“He’ll love that,” she muttered.
“He loves you like a daughter,” I said.
“You coming or am I throwing you over my shoulder?” I said.
Her eyes flared. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “You wanna test that?”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Her breath brushed my jaw, fast and shallow. I could see every shade of gold in her eyes, every freckle across her nose.
She looked away first.
“Fine,” she said. But let me grab my pillow.
“Why, we have plenty of pillows.”
“But they aren’t like mine.”
“Sure, Detective,” I said. “You keep telling yourself that.”
By the time we got back to my dad’s property, the rain had slowed to a drizzle again. The cabin glowed warm against the dark woods, like some kind of stubborn lighthouse. We went there first.
Inside, Logan and Boone were still awake, because of course they were. Russ had fallen asleep with a file open on his chest and a pen uncapped in his hand.
Logan’s brows shot up when he saw the bandage on Julia’s arm. “We miss a party?”
“Sniper at her place,” I said. “Took a couple shots and ran.”
Boone swore. Russ jolted awake and fumbled the pen.
Julia squared her shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”
“No, you won’t,” Logan said bluntly. “Not if you stay alone. You can take my room.”
“I didn’t say she could take your room,” I muttered.
Logan ignored me. “You’re safest with us, Detective. Whoever’s behind this just escalated. They’re done warning you off. Next time they’ll aim lower.”
She looked at each of us in turn—Logan’s steady seriousness, Boone’s focused anger, Russ’s quiet concern. Then her gaze landed on me.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll stay. For now.”
Something unclenched in my chest.
“Good,” Logan said. “We’ll set up watches. Boone, you and I take first shift.”
“Actually,” I said, “you might want to grab a few hours while you can.”
“Why?” Boone asked.
A pair of headlights swept across the curtains.
“That’s why,” I said, nodding toward the driveway.
Everyone went still. My hand drifted toward my sidearm before I saw the outline of the SUV through the rain-smeared glass.
Impact rolled through my ribs like distant thunder. “Delta Five,” I said.
We stepped onto the porch as the doors opened. Three men climbed out.
Aaron Cole looked almost exactly like he had the last time I’d seen him—tall, muscular, eyes that missed nothing, wearing a jacket that probably cost too much but somehow still looked like gear.
Miles Thorn followed, tattoos just visible under the sleeves of his T-shirt, gaze sweeping the tree line.
Jace Dalton brought up the rear, hands in his pockets, easy grin not quite masking the sharp tension in his jaw.
Aaron took in the cabin at a glance, then his gaze landed on me. “Jensen.”
“Cole,” I said, stepping down to meet him. “Long way from Washington.”
“Cartel set up on U.S. soil,” he said. “President got… motivated.”
His attention shifted to Julia behind me. I felt her stiffen more than I saw it.
“Detective Marlow,” I said, glancing back. “This is Aaron Cole. He leads Delta Five. Miles Cruz, Jace Dalton.”
Aaron offered his hand. “Ma’am.”
She hesitated only a second before shaking it. “Julia. I didn’t realize the President was taking a personal interest in Copper Cove.”
“The President takes a personal interest in anything that looks like an undeclared war on his doorstep,” Aaron replied. “From here on out, this doesn’t leave this town unless he says so.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” he said calmly, “whatever we find, whatever we stop, will be handled off the books and out of the headlines.”
Logan joined me on the steps. “How have you guys been?”
Jace snorted. “Carter, what have you been up to lately?”
Logan stretched out his hand. “Delta Division Brave Team.”
“Yeah, we’ve read the reports,” Miles said. “You guys have a habit of blowing things up.”
“Only the things that deserve it,” Boone muttered.
Aaron looked back at me. “We’ll get set up inside. I want eyes on every file you have, every name, every plate number. D.C. will feed us what they’ve got, but Copper Ridge is your backyard. We’re not here to take your investigation, Jensen. We’re here to make sure no one buries it.”
“And the leak?” Julia asked quietly.
Aaron glanced at her. “We have a shortlist of suspects based on access logs and call traces. We’re still narrowing it down. But I can tell you this much.” His gaze swept the woods, then came back to us. “Whoever they are, they’re scared. The sniper tonight was panic, not strategy.”
“How do you know about the sniper?” she asked.
He tapped his earpiece. “We were close enough to pick up your comms chatter when Jensen called in shots fired to Logan. We’ve been listening on approach.”
Julia’s eyes slid to me. “You called for backup?”
“I called my team,” I said. “He called the President.”
Her mouth almost curved. Almost.
Aaron nodded toward the door. “Let’s move this inside. Dawn’s a few hours off. I want a working board up before the sun even thinks about rising.”
I stepped back, letting them file in. Julia paused next to me on the threshold, looking up into my face.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she said quietly.
I raised a brow. “Delta Five? The President? The fact that someone just tried to kill you again?”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the kiss,” she said, cheeks flushing faintly. “What happened in the truck. It doesn’t change the job.”
For a second, the noise inside faded. It was just her, damp hair curling around her face, bandage stark against her skin, eyes holding mine like she was daring me to argue.
“It changes everything,” I said softly. “But we can pretend it doesn’t. For now.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “We get through this first.”
“Yeah,” I said. “We get through this first.”
She stepped past me into the cabin, into the chaos of maps and files and men who’d seen too many wars.
I stayed on the porch a moment longer, watching the dark line of trees, listening to the distant rumble of thunder rolling away.
Copper Cove was no longer just home.
It was a battlefield.
And this time, the fight went all the way to Washington.