Hold On To Me (Hawkeye #4) - Sierra Cartwright

Chapter One

“No fucking way, Hawkeye.” In case that wasn’t clear enough, Jacob Walker tipped back the brim of his cowboy hat and leveled a stare at his friend and former commander across the small, rickety table that separated them.

The stench of cheap whiskey and loneliness hung in the air—as putrid as it was familiar.

Through the years, they’d held dozens of meetings at this kind of place. Didn’t matter which fucked-up hellhole they were in—Central America, the Middle East, Texas, or here, a small, all but forgotten Colorado mountain town, a place with no security cameras, where neither of them were known.

As usual, Hawkeye dressed to blend in with the locals—jeans, scuffed boots, and a heavyweight canvas jacket that could be found on almost every ranch in the state. He’d added a baseball cap with a logo of a tractor company embroidered on the front. Today, he also wore a beard. No doubt it would be gone within an hour of his walking back outside into the crisp, clean air.

At one time, Jacob thrived on clandestine meetings. The anticipation alone was enough to feed adrenaline into his veins, and he lived for the vicarious thrill.

But life was different now.

After a final, fateful job in Colombia that left an American businessman’s daughter dead, Jacob walked away from Hawkeye Security.

He returned to the family ranch and a world he no longer recognized. His grandfather had died, no doubt from the stress of managing the holdings by himself. Though Jacob’s grandmother never uttered a critical word, he knew she was disappointed that he’d missed the funeral. He wasn’t even in the same country when he was needed the most.

When she passed, he stood alone at the graveside, the only family mourner, like she’d no doubt been a few years before.

Spurred by equal measures of guilt and regret, he poured himself into managing the family’s holdings as a way to redeem himself. Then, because of his loneliness and the horrible dreams after Colombia, he did it as a way to save himself.

“The op will take less than a month.” Hawkeye shrugged. “Give or take. I’ll give you three of our best agents—Johnson, Laurents, Mansfield. You can man the gate, rather than just utilizing the speaker box. Another on perimeter. One for relief. You have the space and a bunkhouse.”

Jacob shook his head to clear it of the ever-present memories. “Is there a part of my refusal that you don’t understand?” Of course there was. When Hawkeye wanted something, nothing would dissuade him. That willful determination had made him a force on the battlefield as well as in the business arena. “When I quit, I meant it.” He took a swig from his longneck beer bottle. “No regrets.” The words were mostly true. There were times he wanted the camaraderie and wanted to flex his brain as well as his muscles. There was also the sweet thrill of the hunt. And making things right in the world.

Rather than argue, Hawkeye removed his cap long enough for Jacob to get a look at his former boss. Worry lines were trenched between his eyebrows. In all his years, Jacob had never seen dark despair in those eyes. “Yesterday, Inamorata received what appeared to be a birthday card from her sister.”

Ms. Inamorata was Hawkeye’s right-hand woman and known for her ability to remain calm under duress. She could be counted on to deal with local and federal authorities, smoothing over all the details. Rather seriously, Hawkeye said she batted cleanup better than any major leaguer.

Jacob told himself to stand up, thank Hawkeye for the drink, then get the hell out of here while he still could. Instead, he remained where he was.

“There was a white powder inside.”

Jesus. “Anthrax?”

“Being tested. She took appropriate precautions and received immediate medical assistance. Antibiotics were prescribed as a precaution.” Hawkeye paused. “There were no warning signs that the piece of mail was suspicious.”

Meaning the postmark matched the return address. The postage amount was correct, and there was nothing protruding from the envelope.

Jacob knew Inamorata and liked her as much as he respected her. He took offense at a threat to her life. “Received at headquarters?”

“No. At her home. So whoever sent it has access to information about her and how to circumvent our protocols.”

Slowly he nodded. “Any message?”

“Yeah.” Hawkeye paused. “Threats to take out people I care about, one at a time.”

“The fuck?” Instead of sympathizing, Jacob switched to ops mode. He didn’t do it on purpose—it was as immediate as it was instinctive. No