Page 2 of Hawk on the Hunt

Dylan looked at him for a long while. “Tell me something. When Sheppard recruited us, why didn’t he put us all together so we’d know each other?”

“To protect us.” Ace ran a hand through his hair. “Though I think he was wrong. We’re stronger together, not apart.”

“How many, apart from Zulu and you, are there?”

“On our side? Three others so far.”

“You think that’s enough?”

“No. But with everyone who joins us, we’ll get stronger.”

“To stop what’s coming.”

Ace nodded. “You see it too.”

“Yes, more often than I care to admit.”

Because the visions he had about a catastrophic event that he needed to stop were becoming more frequent. As if the event would happen soon. Maybe working together with men who were like him, precognitives with visions of future events, they could succeed and prevent this vision from becoming reality. But was it worth the risk of trusting somebody he didn’t know? Could he put his life in this man’s hands?

“It’ll happen soon,” Ace said, looking straight at him. “We don’t have much time left. Are you in or out?”

“I don’t know whether I can trust you. You know more about me than I know about you. Give me something. Something that tells me that you are still on the side of the good. That you want to get justice for Sheppard’s death and stop the person behind all this.”

Ace’s jaw tightened visibly. “I’m his son.”

Dylan sucked in a breath. He hadn’t expected that. Zulu hadn’t mentioned anything when they’d met in Washington State, other than a group of them was trying to find out who’d murdered Henry Sheppard, and take the bastard down.

“I had no idea he had a son,” Dylan said.

“He adopted me when he found out that I was like him. I was a young boy, an orphan. I’ll never turn against what my father stood for. And I’ll never stop until I’ve found the person responsible for his death.”

The conviction in Ace’s voice made Dylan’s chest tighten with compassion. He too had loved Sheppard and wanted justice for him. Maybe finally, nearly four years after his death, his killer would be brought to justice.

2

Zara Richards stepped on the escalator that took her out of the Metro station. When she reached the street level, the sun had already set, but the air was still warm. Her light summer dress was clinging to her, and she carried the blazer she’d worn in the morning over her arm. It was busy here too. The neighborhood was popular with residents as well as tourists because of the many great restaurants that lined the narrow streets.

She popped into the deli on the corner, picked up pre-packed sushi and a salad, before paying for her purchases and leaving the store. She wasn’t in the mood to cook tonight, and she wasn’t very hungry either. One of the other staffers in the office had brought pastries after lunch, and she’d indulged in the sweet treats.

With the plastic bag carrying her dinner, Zara crossed the street and walked along the next block. She glanced at the tables outside the coffee shop where she always bought her morning coffee on the way to work, when her heart suddenly skidded to a halt. She froze, unable to take another step or another breath, because what she saw jolted her to the core. She knew the man sitting at one of the outdoor tables in deep conversation with another. He hadn’t changed much in the four years since she’d seen him last. Since he’d dumped her by text message. Like a coward.

Dylan Steele still looked as handsome as ever. His black hair was short, his skin a little more leathery than before. He had a five-o’clock shadow, which she’d always liked on him. He looked rugged, like a man who wasn’t quite tamed, a man whose appearance had bad boy written all over him. Five years ago, she’d fallen head over heels for him. The chemistry between them had been explosive, and they’d been dating for nearly eleven months, practically living together, even though Dylan still had his own apartment on the other side of town.

She’d never understood why he’d left her from one day to the next. His text message still stunned her today.

We can’t be together. Please forget me. I’m sorry.

When she’d tried to call him to find out what was going on, his number had already been disconnected. And his apartment to which she still had the key was still furnished, but all his personal items were gone. He’d vanished without a trace. Without an explanation.

The old anger churned back up inside her. She’d never truly gotten closure. She’d never had the chance to question him about his actions. They’d been so good together. Their relationship had been perfect, and fool that she was, she’d thought that they would get married eventually. Had Dylan panicked when they’d talked about renting a small house together? Had everything been happening too fast for him?

She’d never gotten answers to her many questions. But now she would. Because even though it was over between them, she needed to find out why he’d left her. Maybe then, when she heard the cold hard truth that he’d never really loved her, she would be able to finally kill the love she still felt for him. She would be able to go on with her life and not compare every man to Dylan. She would finally see his flaws and realize that she should be glad that he’d left her.

Zara pulled in a few steadying breaths and noticed that her heart was thundering in her chest, and her palms were sweaty. She could blame it on the humidity in the city, but she knew her physical state was a direct reaction to Dylan. The knowledge that in a few seconds she would be close enough to touch him, close enough to inhale his male scent, close enough to see her own reflection mirrored in his blue eyes, made her feel like a nervous teenager about to ask her school’s quarterback to dance with her.

She shouldn’t feel like this. She was an adult, and had turned thirty-six not even a month ago. She called on the anger that she’d tried to suppress for such a long time, and relied on it to lend her courage now. She’d always been somebody who’d avoided confrontations, but today, she wanted this confrontation. In fact, she needed it. She needed to tell him what a jerk he’d been, what a bastard to have dumped her so callously.

Lifting her chin, and pulling her shoulders back, Zara set one foot in front of the other, ready to tell Dylan what she thought of him.