Page 1 of Stolen

Chapter 1

There was gunfire all around him.

The air was hot and humid, heavy with the scent of tropical flowers and gunpowder.

Hawk Romero had started the morning like he’d started every morning for the last eighteen months, in the barracks of a drug lord’s compound. One of his wolf pack of soldiers.

He’d started the afternoon guarding the drug lord’s sister on a horseback ride—her favorite route along the mountain trails below the compound.

His gut had been tight with a tension he’d used all of his emotional discipline and acting powers to conceal—the same discipline and acting powers that had gotten him through a year and a half undercover, trying to get in a position to bring down the cartel.

And now he was about to destroy all that work. Blow his cover, blow the mission. Because of her.

He told himself it was because she had the keys to taking her brother down, but he knew he was fooling himself.

It was about Ariana. From the first time he’d laid eyes on her, it was always about her.

He’d shoved his feelings into a tiny compartment at the back of his mind, one he only opened late at night when he was alone, letting the warmth of her beauty and kindness keep him sane.

Now, he kept that compartment tightly closed as he gave her a leg up onto her horse, the feel and scent of her floating around him in an intoxicating haze.

They rode off with Carlos, the other guard assigned to her. Carlos, who he’d seen gazing speculatively at the two of them more than once. Knowing there was something there, that would eventually explode into trouble.

He’d still kept the feelings locked down as he’d come up behind Carlos when they stopped for Ariana to go into the woods and pretend to relieve herself, when he hit Carlos in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle and tied him to a tree.

Knowing he should have killed him, but not able to make himself do it. He’d had to do so many things during this mission that lay dark on his soul—had to witness so many atrocities he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t start this last part of it with a cold-blooded killing. Couldn’t go to Ariana smelling of blood and death.

He’d known that moment of decency might come back to bite him, and it had.

Now they were still half a mile from the extraction helicopter, with all of Ricardo De León’s wolves behind them. One horse had been shot from under him, and the other had gone lame from trying to carry two over rough terrain.

“You have to Change,” he told Ariana. “Now.”

“I won’t leave you behind.”

“I can’t cover us if I go wolf too.” He indicated his automatic rifle. “Just do this. I’ll radio in to the helo that you’re coming wolf.”

He stared into her eyes, then kissed her—hard. It was not how he’d pictured their first kiss—or their last.

“Please,” he whispered to her.

Her face tightened with resolve, and then she reached up and kissed him again, just as hard. She melted into her wolf, the rags of her clothing drifting to the ground.

Hawk ran with her, then behind her, covering their retreat with stop-and-go gunfire.

He heard the wolves baying, saw them crest a small rise. He mowed down as many as he could.

But the gunmen were just behind them, doing everything they could to keep him and Ariana from reaching the bird on the ground, rotors whirling.

She was almost there.

And then a bullet got her in the flank. She stumbled.

Hawk ran and shot, ran and shot, trying to get to her. There was no more cover—just the two of them, vulnerable on the flat ground.

Ariana was still trying to get to the helicopter. Other men—allies—had gotten out of the helo and were helping cover their retreat.

Hawk ran for her, dodging and weaving, bullets sending up puffs of dust from the dry ground. One of them grazed his shoulder, but he barely felt the sting.

He was almost there. Ariana stumbled again, and Hawk watched as another bullet buried itself in her chest. Howling with fury and agony, he dropped his rifle and scooped her up in his arms, staggering under the weight of her wolf.

Bullets rained down around him, fire and brimstone like the gates of hell.

Then they were at the helo, he was handing her inside, her blood hot and wet on the front of his shirt.

She couldn’t die. Please, Dios, all the wolf gods, whoever was out there…

She couldn’t die.