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The muzzle of a gun suddenly pressed against her head told her their ploy hadn’t worked as well as they’d hoped.
“Drop your gun, mate, or Iris gets it through her pretty skull.”
Two things struck her simultaneously. One, the man thought she was Iris. Even though she hadn’t bothered to try to look like her mother, she resembled her enough. They were about the same height, weight, and had similar hair color, so it was a reasonable assumption. Especially since this man believed Olivia was unconscious in the hospital.
The second thing that struck her was even more astonishing. She knew this man.
In fact, she knew him all too well.
Hawke dropped his weapon. There was no way he would try to talk their way out of the situation with a gun pressed against Olivia’s head.
He didn’t know the man who held her. All this time, he’d been thinking it could be Rio. But this man, with his gleaming bald head, beady brown eyes, and hulking, bodybuilder physique, bore no resemblance to his former teammate.
“Quite the reception you planned for us,” Hawke growled.
“You as well.” The man smirked, obviously taking his words as a compliment. “I must say the dummies in the front seat was quite a brilliant move.”
“Since you clearly have us at a disadvantage, how about taking that gun away from my wife’s head?”
The man jerked, startled. “Your wife?”
Taking advantage of his distraction, Hawke pulled a gun from the holster at his back. Not wasting time, Olivia whirled, knocked the gun from the man’s hand, and punched him in the nose.
The man staggered back, cupping his nose and cursing.
Both of them now in control again, Hawke and Olivia stepped forward together, their guns aimed at the man who’d set this up.
Before Hawke could demand answers, Olivia glared at the man before them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Simon?”
“Simon?” Hawke said. “As in your ex-fiancé, Simon?”
He’d never met Simon Swift, the man Olivia had been engaged to before she’d moved to the States. Olivia had told him plenty, though, and none of it had been good. The man was a sleaze and an opportunist. As far as he knew, Swift was still working for MI6, but this was no sanctioned operation. Was the man a rogue agent or something more evil?
“Where’s Iris?” Simon glared at Hawke. “You double-crossed me.”
“Oh gee, Simon, we’re sorry.” Olivia was at her sarcastic best. “I apologize that I’m not lying in a hospital room, barely clinging to life.”
“You always were so dramatic, Livvy.”
Hawke glowered at the bastard. That was why the man had called her Livvy. It had been his nickname for her, too.
“Her name is Olivia, asshole.”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Seriously, Hawke?”
Hawke shrugged. Might be petty, but he wasn’t going to apologize for that.
Simon’s eyes roamed around the SUV. “Where’s Iris?”
“Since we have two guns to your none, how about we ask the questions?” Olivia said.
“Come on, Livvy. You know me better than that.”
Four men stepped out of the shadows, three guns pointed at Hawke, one at Olivia.
Hawke held his tongue. They had reinforcements as well. Eve would have taken out the men on the watchtower by now. Gideon and Liam would be close by. He would call them in when it was time.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, Eve said quietly in his earbud, “Took out two on the tower, one on the roof, plus one hovering near the front.”
