CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In the corner of the Diablo firehouse garage, Hawke stood braced against a fire pole surrounded by Shadow, Max, and Steele, watching the action behind tinted lenses and wondering why the hell he'd been so agreeable. The area appeared to be perfectly safe for the event. The two largest fire engines, both ladder trucks, had been parked side by side directly in front of the garage. This kept wandering eyes, or cameras, out and provided a discreet photography back drop. Diablo Police Department officers stood guard outside the area. Swat team snipers lined the tops of adjacent buildings. Though the whole operation reeked of military genius, Hawke knew that if Diego wanted Rachel bad enough, he would find a way to test the barriers.
Inside the perimeter however, things were a whole lot different.
Rachel's rich auburn hair tumbled carelessly down her back as she tossed her head and positioned the first fireman against a freshly-waxed fire engine. He watched through narrow eyes as her dancing fingertips filled the ridges of the man's sculpted muscles with oil. Hawke released a long sigh. He had no other choice but to size up the competition with pained tolerance. The whole place was thick with testosterone and it was directed at his woman. Even if she was totally pissed off at him right now, she was still his.
Hawke peeled his eyes off Rachel long enough to glance at Max. "Thanks, Captain."
"Don't thank me yet, Hawke, we can't keep the media out for long. I give it an hour tops."
"Maybe it won't take that long."
Max rubbed the back of his neck. "Tell me why we're here again."
"Moral support," Hawke mumbled.
"Damn." Shadow whistled low under his breath. "How much oil does he need?"
Hawke lifted his sunglasses and tossed Shadow a menacing stare.
"At least she's safe," Steele added.
"Steele," Max growled, "you're not helping."
Hawke stiffened as Rachel ran her hands over her victim's body for the umpteenth time.
"Mr. August," Max reminded him.
"I remember," Hawke spat through gritted teeth.
Shadow chuckled. "Cameron looks happy herself."
"Screw you," Max muttered.
"Okay, Rick." Rachel lifted her hands from Rick's glistening skin. "Any more oil and you'll shine brighter than the truck."
She positioned Rick against the steps leading to the top of the fire truck and looped a hose around one of his biceps. "What do you think, Cameron?"
Cameron aimed her camera at Rick. "More abs."
Rachel braced her hand on her hip, twisted her lips, then pointed to his abdomen with her free hand. "Are you tan down there?"
Rick cast an uneasy glance at Hawke. "Most of the way." Hawke returned a brutal and unfriendly stare.
Rachel shrugged, unsnapped Rick's pants, and wiggled them low on his hips.
Hawke growled low in his throat and turned his attention to Max, who stood morbidly quiet. With his arms crossed across his massive chest, Captain Sterling appeared deadly, ready and willing to snap someone's neck.
When Hawke glanced back at the truck, he fully understood Max's unspoken discomfort. With her signature high heels planted six inches apart on the cement slab and slightly bent at the waist, Cameron swiveled her hips to capture each side of Rick's physique and clicked several more pictures. The hem of her short skirt bounced against the back of her thighs.
Shadow snickered beside them.
"You have something to say, Shadow?" Max challenged.
Hawke watched Shadow's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "No."
"Come here, Rick." Cameron waltzed toward the half-naked civil servant. "I'll hold your hose while you climb the ladder."
Hawke's eyes widened. Did she mean that like it sounded? Or was he so damn turned on by this whole thing he heard wrong? He held his breath and looked at Max. Not a clue.
"Next victim," Cameron sang, handing Rachel the camera while she picked up the bottle of oil.
Rachel set down the camera and glanced at Hawke. One look into her eyes told him exactly what he wanted to know. She still felt the brunt of his betrayal and he was helplessto change her mind.
Hawke released a heavy breath as she turned her attention back to the bronzed muscle next to her. What the hell did he hope to accomplish by this? He checked his watch, nervous as a whore in church about how this mission would play out.
Cameron tilted her head to one side and glanced at Max. "We're short a month."
Max shifted his weight. "In your dreams."
"Too hot out here for you?"
Max gave his head a slight nod. "Something like that."
She shrugged and glanced at Steele. "What about you, Brett?"
Hawke expected Steele to oblige but one sideways look from Max changed that. "No thanks, Cameron."
Cameron headed back to the fire trucks and then stopped to cast a catty smile over her shoulder at Max . "Wuss."
Before Hawke or anyone else could react to Cameron's challenge, tires screeched against the heated pavement and doors slammed in the quiet afternoon. Flashes of light bounced off the fire trucks. Policemen barked orders through bullhorns.
"Cat's out of the bag," Max drawled.
Shadow frowned. "Did Huntington call in a press release?"
Hawke shook his head. "No. Are you sure it's media?"
Shadow left the area and crawled the ladder of one of the trucks. After hesitating only a few seconds at the top, he climbed down and returned. "A whole shitload of news vans out there."
"Rachel." Max signaled for her to come closer. She handed the camera to Cameron and stepped next to Hawke. "You and Hawke talk to them out front. Keep it brief. If Diego makes a move, he only needs a few seconds."
Rachel paled and Hawke prepared to scoop her from the pavement. Instead, she cleared her throat and nodded.
Max looked back at Hawke. "Snipers at ten and two," he continued. "He'll have to dance to get a clear shot. I'll be on your ass. If he wants in, he'll have to come through the blockade."
Hawke glanced at Rachel. Her fingers shook as she tucked her hair behind her ears. "You sure you're still mad enough to do this?"
Daggers flew from her emerald gaze as she answered. "Of course."
Hawke balled his fists until the muscles in his fingers protested. "Let's get this over, Max."
All action in front of the camera stilled. Fireman lounged against the trucks almost if they appreciated the interruption. Even Cameron stood quiet. Hawke grasped Rachel's elbow and lead her around the safety of the barriers until they stood in front of the crowd.
Hawke painted on an undercover smile as he glanced around the area. Reporters thrust microphones in his face and fired questions as cameramen shouldered their equipment and rolled tape.
Where are you, you son-of-a-bitch?
Hawke took a calming breath and wrapped a hand low on Rachel's waist. "Rachel is responsible for this event, ladies and gentlemen. She can answer your questions much better than I."
Rachel gave him a small smile then turned to address a reporter in front. Hawke listened to Rachel's soft, silky voice in one ear and kept his other one trained on the activity around them. Considering the media circus, no one seemed out of place. And true to Captain Sterling's word, snipers waited on rooftops, scopes trained on the area.
And then someone had to screw the plan.
Hawke smelled her before he caught a glimpse of her ducking under the yellow tape in front of the crowd. Perfume, strong and sickening sweet, assaulted his nostrils until his eyes watered. He glanced at Max. Max raised a hand to one ear and spoke in a low, almost inaudible tone. "Stand down."
Max took two steps to the left and snatched Monica Kensington by the elbow. Her eyes widened when Max whispered something in her ear.
Hawke turned back to Rachel and waited for her to finish speaking before he squeezed her to his side. "And now we have to get back to the shoot. Thank you."
He hustled Rachel back behind the fire trucks before he finally breathed a sigh of relief. Three seconds later, Cameron sunk her claws into Monica before either he or Max could get a word in.
"Care to explain why you slithered in here, Monica?"
"No reason." Monica tossed her head. "I was driving by and wanted to see what all the fuss was about."
Cameron narrowed her eyes. "More like you wanted to see if you could take credit for this."
"Now, now Cameron dear, you mustn't be so suspicious. I thought I might be able to help with the media."
"So helpful you ducked right under the tape," Cameron drawled.
Hawke raised his eyebrows. Pretty smart chick. Obviously, Cameron knew Monica's m.o.
Rachel released a sigh and placed a hand on Cameron's forearm. "We appreciate your concern, Monica, but as you can see, Cameron and I have everything under control."
Monica sneered. "Are you sure? You know the wealth of my influence."
Although Rachel didn't advertise it, Hawke didn't miss the sarcasm laced in her response. "I'm well aware of your professional recognition but we're doing just fine."
"I-"
"Monica, give it a rest already." Cameron snorted. "We don't need you."
Hawke bit his lip and glanced at Max.
"C'mon." Max dragged Monica by the elbow to the back door of the garage. "Out."
Monica's shrill voice echoed off the walls until the door slammed.
"Good riddance," Rachel mumbled.
Hawke smirked. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Did you see him?"
"Nobody looked suspicious."
"You were supposed to catch him," Cameron hissed.
Max slipped in behind her. "It's not that easy, short stuff."
Cameron squealed and spun to face him. "Good grief! You're awfully quiet for such a big guy."
Max just smirked.
"We need to finish." Rachel grinned. "Before the oil dries."
While Rachel and Cameron returned to the action, Hawke and Max took positions near the back door with Steele and Shadow.
"Leaving will be a bitch," Max muttered.
"I'll sign autographs while you get her in the truck."
Max nodded and threw a suspicious glance at Rachel and Cameron. The two women chattered and giggled as they continued to massage chests, abs and muscles. "If we can ever get them out of here."
"They don't act like they're in a hurry to leave," Shadow said under his breath.
"Damn, Shadow," Max bellowed, "do you have a death wish?"
Activity stilled at Max's outburst, all eyes focused on him. Hawke bit his bottom lip, unable to speak.
"No problem," Shadow said smoothly, "we're just discussing a sore subject over here."
Cameron rolled her eyes and shrugged. Rachel gave a serene smile and lifted the camera back to her eye.
Hawke cleared his throat. "Need a break, Max?"
Max wiped the sweat from his brow, the mask of control securely back in place. "No."
Steele cleared his throat. "Captain, ask Shadow what he read last night."
"Steele," Shadow growled.
Max cocked his head to the side. "Good book?"
Shadow didn't speak.
"Apparently," Steele answered, "Shadow has a collection of romance novels."
"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
Steele gave a smug smile. "Nope. Serious as a heart attack."
As the sun began to set, Rachel and Cameron photographed the last fireman and Max began recovery mode. After a short meeting with the fire chief and police chief, Max followed Rachel and Cameron back inside the garage.
"Steele will load Rachel into the Suburban first," Max told them. "As soon as the fire trucks roll out, you're on, Hawke. The crowd is pretty thick. The snipers will remain until you're finished."
Max turned to Cameron. "Walk straight to your car. Shadow will go with you."
Cameron lifted her sunglasses. "Are you going to tie me to the top if I don't?"
Hawke's body tensed, not sure how much more Max could take. Max's chest slowly rose and then fell. He ran his palm over the smooth surface of his head. "Just get in the damn car."
As if she sensed the impending danger, Cameron set her glasses back on her nose. "Fine, but I'm going to the spa first, Max."
Hawke glanced from Max to Steele to Shadow. No nickname? What the hell?
"It's Wednesday," Rachel murmured.
Hawke frowned. "So?"
"Wednesday is spa day." She gave him a cursory glance. "I'll be in the truck."
Hawke nodded and watched Steele follow her to the safety of the Suburban.
Max turned to Shadow. "Do not leave the perimeter. Escort her in and then back out."
Shadow nodded and then laid a hand to the small of Cameron's back. "C'mon, tiger."
Max motioned for the fire trucks to move and then the crowd went wild. With Max beside him, Hawke stepped outside the garage to accept offers of autographs and photographs.
Rachel sat in the quiet interior of the Suburban with Brett, content with the afternoon's events. Hawke had once again surprised her. When the crowd gathered behind the firetrucks, she fully expected him to greet his public. After all, why not? Hawke's presence didn't have much to do with the calendar anyway. But instead, he remained in the depths of the garage, hidden from view. Impressive.
Rachel gazed out the window at Hawke and her heart pounded. Even in a swarm of females, she wanted him. No doubt about it, even though he betrayed and lied to her, she couldn't resist him. And what warmed her already heated body even more, he wanted her.
"Hazard of undercover," Brett mumbled.
Rachel lifted an eyebrow. "According to Max, you're quite the ladies' man."
Brett lowered his head. "Sterling has a big mouth."
"Actually, I've found Max to be very insightful."
Brett gave her a cocky grin in response just as the passenger door opened and Hawke stepped inside. Max entered and slid behind the steering wheel.
Hawke scooted close to her. "I'd say the afternoon was a success."
"It was," she agreed. "Thank you."
He lifted her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. "Anything for you, angel."
She pulled her hand from his grasp and cleared her throat. "Are you still serious about your house?"
Hawke scrubbed a hand down the side of his jaw. "Rachel, I'll admit I wasn't entirely truthful with you but, I was dead serious when I said I was ready to settle down and concentrate on other things."
Careful to keep her emotions hidden, she asked the one question she wasn't sure she really wanted him to answer. "Will you live there?"
He reached to grasp her hand again. "Yes. Jaydon Hawke will not allow me to be the SEAL I once was."
She gave his hand a slight squeeze. "Then, I need to check the progress."
"Sure." He lifted her hand, turned it over and placed a kiss to the underside of her wrist. "You heard the lady, Max."
Max nodded and steered the vehicle away from the chaos and toward the building site.
Rachel glanced out the back window to see if anyone followed. Although security gates had now been installed around the entry to the new house, the house itself wasn't completely wired and it would be difficult to keep a determined groupie out.
"Not a problem, Rachel," Max said from the front seat. "The police department's got it all under control."
Rachel grinned. More like Max had it all under control. She leaned back against the seat, relieved the afternoon was almost over.
Max stopped in front of two iron, blackgates, lowered the car window, and entered the code. He parked the Suburban across the driveway near the front door.
"We'll wait out here," Max told Hawke when he opened the back door.
Hawke nodded and headed inside with Rachel. As soon as they entered the foyer, Hawke's body bumped hers and he grasped her shoulders to steady them both. A tiny gasp left her lips.
Hawke peered over her head and suddenly her behavior made sense. "Sonuvabitch."
The place looked like a wrecking ball had a field day. The windows were broken, the sheetrock literally hung off the frame, and the gargantuan chandelier in the entryway hung from three wires.
Hawke pushed Rachel the opposite direction. "We probably better steer clear," he mumbled.
Rachel stepped toward a mountain of rock in the corner. "So much for the fountain." She turned back toward him and fire blazed in the depths of her eyes. "This is insane."
"Vandals?" Hawke suggested, although he knew better.
"There are no vandals in this area," Rachel answered with icy calmness. "Should I call the police?"
Hawke stepped into the kitchen and almost fell out. "No."
He turned, blocking her entrance to the kitchen as she stepped toward him.
She frowned and pushed one hand against his chest. "Let me see. It can't be any worse than the rest."
"Rachel, wait until I get Max and Steele."
Her gaze narrowed. "Why?" Then her eyes widened. "Oh my God! There's not a body inside is there?"
"Damn." Hawke ran a hand through his hair. "No. Just trust me, you don't want to go in."
Her eyes held his for a moment and then somehow she managed to slip past him. Hawke released a heavy breath and then braced himself in the doorway.
Rachel stood in the middle of the kitchen ,turning a semicircle as she scanned glossy photographs of herself in the arms of a much older man plastered to every free inch of space. Some in vivid Technicolor, some in black and white. Some innocent and some very, very graphic. But those paled in comparison to the newspaper articles that labeled her harlot and homewrecker.
Hawke waited patiently for her to scream. Cry. Or even speak. Instead, she looked at each and every picture, some even twice, until she finally took a deep breath and turned her gaze to him. "And you thought the tabloids loved you."
Hawke took a hesitant step toward her, fueled by the overwhelming urge to hold her. She held up a hand to stop him and then reached to pluck a newspaper clipping from the wall. "I owe you an explanation."
Hawke shifted. So this is what it felt like to be on the other end. Acid burnt his gut. "Rachel-"
"Please." He caught a slight quiver of her bottom lip. "I need to do this."
Hawke nodded and propped himself against awall.
She pointed to the man in the newspaper clipping she held. "William Bridgewater was my boss in New York City. He gave me my dream job and I respected him."
Rachel turned back to the pictures. "Little did I know things would end up like this."
"People have affairs all the time," Hawke said quietly. Himself included.
Rachel turned to face him, fire in her eyes. "That's just it, Hawke, I didn't think it was an affair. He told me he was divorced and no one bothered to tell me any different. I had absolutely no idea there was a Mrs. Bridgewater until I opened a Sunday paper."
"What an ass."
She gave him a half smile. "Thank you." She gestured to the photographs. "She hired a private investigator and the rest is pretty well self explanatory."
The color returned to her cheeks and she appeared her usual composed self.
"I already knew."
He braced himself for her reaction, wondering too late if he should've confessed.
Rachel studied him for a moment and then shrugged. "Max."
Hawke pushed himself off the wall, still wary. "You're not angry?"
"Not with you. I thought this was all behind me. I don't even know how these got here. When the Bridgewaters finally divorced for real, the judge issued a gag order."
"Believe me, things like this always get out somehow." He stepped closer and hugged her. "This makes absolutely no difference to me."
She untangled herself from his embrace, plucked pictures from the walls, and handed them to him.
He gestured at the countertop. "You missed one."
Rachel reached for a wayward photo turned over on the counter. "Um, Hawke, this one's not mine."
Hawke frowned and took the card.
MINE AND ONLY MINE.
He smeared his thumb over the familiar red lipstick signature and then lifted his thumb to his mouth. Wild cherry.
Hawke glanced at Rachel who lifted her eyebrow in question.
"I don't think any of this has anything to do with you."
She waved a photo at him. "Hello? I believe this is me in this sordid position."
"Yeah, well, I've had several of these cards lately."
"And you've tasted them all?"
"They're all signed with wild cherry flavored lipstick."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Wow. You are talented. But did you know most lipstick contains fish scales?"
Hawke laughed, relieved at her humor, but still pissed off at the whole thing. "No." He brushed a wayward piece of hair from her forehead. "I'm going to have to bring Max and Steele in here."
Rachel shrugged. "Go ahead. I've been drugged, shot, used, lied to, and now exposed as some sort of femme fatale. It can't get any worse."
Hawke squeezed the top of her shoulder. "I'll be right back."
The thump of heavy boots announced Max and Brett's arrival several seconds later. Hawke followed behind.
"Hell." Brett gave a low whistle as he thumbed through the pictures on the counter. "Somebody's pissed."
Hawke handed Max the lipstick card. "Another one."
Max scraped the edge of his jaw with the card. "This is directed at you, Hawke. Somebody objects to your partnership with Rachel."
Hawke ran a hand through his hair. "So what now?"
"Now we go back to the house. He's hot on her trail. I'll take you and Shadow back to the hotel suite and Steele and Rachel back to the house. We'll keep Steele there until I get to the bottom of this mess just in case I'm wrong."
Hawke released a heavy sigh. Max was never wrong. He turned and took Rachel's hand. "You okay with that?"
Rather than release his hold, she squeezed and nodded. "But I'd rather go to the spa first, if you don't mind, Max."
Max led them to the door and back into the Suburban. "I'll drop you off then come back for you and Mighty Mouse after I get Hawke and Steele situated."