“Not just any hamburger,” Hawk replied. “I’m jonesing for the real American thing.”
“You’re insulting Macedonian food, too?” Dilaver accepted a bottle of beer from one of his men. “What’s with some mashed-up meat that looks like a pancake?”
“It’s a matter of taste, I guess,” Hawk said.
“Yes, like your…sexual preferences, I suppose.”
Hawk cocked a brow but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to start onhisdistaste of Dilaver’s toying with very young girls.
“Either you’re a homosexual, like some of my men have suggested, or maybe you just like something different. You’re a handsome devil, Hawk. Even some of the girls at thekafenaswouldn’t mind servicing you. You have even refused my offer of free females and it’s been a few months. It’s not as if you were shot near the vital parts like I was. A man has needs, you know…real men anyway.”
Hawk laughed. How ironic that his enemy was echoing his thoughts from the night before. And look what happened when he was busy thinking about his needs. Someone attacked him and…he was still pissed that someone got that close to his naked body. He pushed his anger away. He would deal withthatsoon enough.
“No, myfriend.” Hawk emphasized the word so that everyone in the room could hear it. He deliberately added a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “I don’t need you to supply me with boys, either. But if any of your men want to try me out, I’d be happy to tear them a new asshole.”
Dilaver roared with laughter. For the time being, his rage at the loss of revenue had dissipated. “Must be a new American sport. You come up with the funniest lines.” He reverted into heavily accented English. “‘I am happy to tear them a new arsehole.’ I must remember this one. What was the other one? ‘He sucks’…what…?”
“He sucks canal water,” Hawk said obligingly.
Dilaver laughed again and repeated the phrase. His amusement and eagerness at collecting catchy clichés would have made him almost likable, if Hawk hadn’t known firsthand the ruthlessness behind the façade.
What would his team say if they knew that he spent his days teaching the enemy their favorite insults? He thought of Cucumber, the big SEAL who would have a few choice lines of his own about Dilaver and his kind. And Jazz, his best friend, who would have given Dilaver more than a limp, had he known, at the time Hawk ordered him to shoot, about the punch the bastard had landed on his girlfriend’s face. No, none of his SEAL brothers would understand this charade he was playing.
Life as a covert agent, Hawk was discovering, was too damn much skirting around the main issue. He had done some undercover work before. A seller looking for some quick cash. A businessman paying for an informant. Fast drug deals to pinpoint drug routes. Even a robbery in bright daylight once to prevent the sale of a bomb. But those were a cakewalk compared to what he was doing now.
His lips quirked at the term. Cakewalk. Another Americanism he could throw at Dilaver. He must buy a Macedonian book of aphorisms when he got a chance. Sometimes his American phrases didn’t translate very well. Not that any of the usual communication problems around here couldn’t be solved with a big weapon.
“Actually, there’s a good—how you say it—‘happening’ place right here in Velesta,” Dilaver said. “The peacekeepers love to go there, especially the American ones, and they say it’s the food. I say it’s the owner. She is”—he drew the hourglass outline in the air—“stacked. Just like the Americans like their women. In fact, she’s one.”
“An American running a restaurant in Velesta?” Hawk doubted that fact.
“Not just a restaurant, my friend. She pays for my protection, just like anybody else.”
“How?” Many business owners had to pay so their stores didn’t get bombed or robbed by the different gangs. It was all very old-fashioned. “Is she a friend of yours?”
Dilaver shook his head. “No, I think she dislikes me, but she is very polite about it.” His laugh wasn’t friendly. “But she’s very intelligent. She’s got my protection so her restaurant gets business, and she’s got the head of CIVPOL’s protection so I don’t get too close.”
“I didn’t know that you’re afraid of CIVPOL,” Hawk said casually. He had heard that the new man in charge of the drugs and sex-trafficking department of CIVPOL, the UN international police force, was looking for Dragan Dilaver. This woman’s friendship meant she had something over Dilaver that she was threatening to expose if he didn’t play nice. Interesting. He liked someone who could hold the Macedonian by his balls.
Dilaver made a rude noise. “Afraid? I’m afraid of no one. And unlike in Asia, I’m the one who speaks the local languages around here. You and that UN puppet are the foreigners. He’s like a fly, this new man in town. Not worth my time.”
“A bothersome one,” one of Dilaver’s men chimed in. “I suspect he’s behind our trouble, boss. He would like nothing better than to have a showdown with us so he can put us out of business.”
Dilaver nodded, a speculative look entering his eyes. “Yes, I suppose when you’re new, you want to make some big catch, and…” He paused to take a swig from his mug. “I’m the biggest in Macedonia.”
“So why not kill him?” Hawk asked, curious about how the other man’s mind worked. He had made it a point to study all of Dilaver’s moves and motives.
“I would, but the UN has done so much for the Balkans,” Dilaver said, with a smile like a satisfied devil. “It’d be ungrateful to start killing their law enforcers when they are all providing such a safe haven for business.”
His roar of laughter was joined by the rest in the room, mockery-filled and contemptuous. Hawk didn’t join in, but he understood the sentiment, and his heart filled with resigned anger. The Balkan wars had gone on for centuries. In many ways, the recent UN intervention had freed the thugs, arming many of the fighting factions. The Kosovo Liberation Army was one of them, a brutal group of mercenaries that had nothing to do with liberation. Now that they had solidified their power base, the KLA had become the crime syndicate in this part of the world in drugs, sex, and arms trafficking. Dragan Dilaver headed one of its powerful factions.
And he, Hawk McMillan, was in this nest of human trash. He felt dirty among them because, for the first time, he couldn’t come to the defense of things he held precious. He had to stand by and watch these scumbags hurt women, children, and helpless people. And his anger had expanded more each day till his own self-control was tested.
He swallowed it in, accepting a mug of beer from one of the men. He waved it at Dilaver. “Maybe you can buy him off?” he asked, affecting a cynical expression.
“No, he’s still in the fresh stage…has already refused some tactfully worded bribe offers. No, no, this man—his name is Sun—is going to have to learn the hard way. Besides, with him being interested in that restaurant owner, I can keep an eye on him and his activities. Her information has been good so far.” Dilaver shrugged. “She keeps him happy and me happy. Very smart businesswoman. I think you’ll like this American chick.”
“But an American woman alone in Velesta? What do you think of that?”
