Page 75 of Tormented Hearts

The owner—soft around the middle and sweating through a golf shirt—folded even faster once Hawk made it clear this conversation had exactly two possible outcomes, and only one of them ended with the man keeping his business license intact.

“I don’t know details,” the man stammered, hands up like that alone might save him. “I just take the contracts. I don’t ask questions.”

“Who hired the men who went up that mountain three days ago?” Hawk’s voice stayed level, controlled, though every instinct in him wanted to push hard. “Name. Now.”

The man’s eyes darted between them, calculating odds that clearly weren’t in his favor, and he caved within thirty seconds, pulling up a contract on his laptop with shaking hands.

“McCrae,” he said. “Evan McCrae. Paid cash, wanted it quiet, wanted the woman alive and unharmed—those were his exact words, alive and unharmed—but didn’t care what happened to anyone with her.”

Hawk went very still.

McCrae. One of the prospectors who’d worked that mine alongside Sinead’s great-great-grandfather.

“Evan McCrae,” Hawk repeated. “Any relation to a McCrae from around a hundred fifty years back? Prospector, worked claims up in that same mountain range?”

The man blinked, clearly out of his depth. “I don’t know his family tree, man. I just took his money.”

But Hawk already knew, with the same certainty he’d felt on Timberline Ridge when he took out the first two mercs.

This wasn’t some anonymous person hunting treasure with no connection to the legend at all. This was blood, a tie to a partnership, a relative still chasing what his own ancestor never got to claim.

And still willing to kill for it generations later.

They pulled every scrap of information the terrified contractor could offer. Address, known associates and financial records, the man handed it all over without argument once he understand how much trouble he’d already bought himself.

By the time they walked into the parking lot, the sun low and orange over the strip mall rooftops, Hawk had what he needed.

A name. A face. A location.

“We’ve got him.” Gray matched Hawk’s stride back to the chopper.

“We’ve got him,” Hawk agreed. The knot in his chest that had been there since he’d seen that red dot on Sinead’s chest didn’t release, though, and it wouldn’t until he saw this to the end.

After his confrontation with McCrae, Sinead would finally be safe. Hawk would ensure that the threat they’d traced back to its root was completely sawed off.

He thought about the sticker Navy had pressed onto the back of her hand, about the way she’d laughed through tears at a child’s belief in the power of a gold star.

He kept thinking about those three words he still hadn’t answered, and how close he’d come to never getting the chance.

He would get that chance, if he had any say in it.

They flew back to the ranch as the sun sank lower. The mountains slid past below them, and Hawk spent the flight running through how he wanted to handle McCrae.

They’d regroup at the ranch first. Pull in the rest of the team and build a plan tight enough that nothing was left to chance. He’d make sure every detail, right down to the number of family members who were in on the act, and even what the bastard ate for breakfast, was confirmed before they moved on McCrae.

Hawk wasn’t getting sloppy, not when the stakes had a woman waiting for him with worry etched into every line of her beautiful face.

The chopper touched down, and the training field was empty now. They drove back to the ranch in silence. When the main house came into view, Hawk’s chest loosened at the sight.

It felt like home, in whatever strange way this place had become that to him.

And he suspected for Sinead too.

He was confident that they had what they needed. Sinead was going to be safe.

Then he was going to take her in his arms and start making a life with her.

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