his own ATF agents.
Hawk, in fact.
See, thatâs what happened when one hired the best, and Hawk was the best of the best. He was a fucking pitbull, and heâd all but publicly promised to stop at nothing until the leader of the Kiddie Bombers was behind bars.
He might as well have signed his own death certificate.
And goddamn, heâd actually gotten a shot off. That was a pisser. But the explosions Gainesâs men had rigged would go off soon, and Hawk would be lost in them. Logan also, because it had become clear tonight that there was no other way.
And though it killed him, Abby, too.
No loose ends.
And there wouldnât be. Thanks to his crew, which included Watkins working on the inside, everything had been perfectly choreographed. Already Tibbs would have received an anonymous tip that would raise enough questions about Hawkâs âroleâ in the theft of the rifles from the ATF to enable Tibbs to get a search warrant for Hawkâs place. There heâd find a computer memory stick with Kiddie Bombersâ information, including purchases, sales and contacts, password-protected and encrypted just enough to make it look legit.
Hawk framed, check. Hawk dead, almost check.
And then, retirement time. Good times. The only thing that would have made tonight perfect would have been if he hadnât been forced to take out Abby. He regretted that, and heâd miss her like hell, but he couldnât risk the rest of his life for a piece of tail, no matter how badly he wanted that piece.
He was so close now. Close enough to taste it. God, he loved to win. And tonight, he planned to win big. âGot any last-minute prayers?â
Â
E VEN WITH HIS VEST , the after-effects of taking a slug in the chest were brutal. His muscles were spasming, his body twitching, and it was sheer agony to get his limbs to obey his mind. But Hawk managed to grab Gainesâs ankle and yank him to the ground, leveling the playing field, though not by much. Jesus, even his brain hurt, feeling as if itâd been used as a pinball within his skull. Gathering his thoughts was an exercise in futility, but he had to fight off Gainesâthen he caught the flicker from within the barn. Flames. Ah, shit, the whole thing was going toâ
Blow.
The explosion knocked them both backward. The barn roof blew sky high, catching the grass in the clearing on fire, as well as the trees.
Surrounded. He was surrounded by unrelenting heat, scorching him both inside and out. Gaines came up on his knees, looking like death warmed over as he staggered to his feet, pointing his gun. âYouâre hard to kill.â
âSo are you.â Hawkâs gaze locked on the dark spot blooming out from the shoulder of Gainesâs jacket. âMissed your black heart, unfortunately. I blame the hit to the chest. Threw me off.â
The smoke rose from behind Gainesâs head, making it look like steam was coming out of his ears.
âItâs going to get worse,â his own personal monster said.
It was true. If Gaines chose to shoot Hawk in the nuts, there was nothing he could do. His body was shit at the moment.
Gaines pointed the gun between Hawkâs eyes.
âGo to hell,â Hawk said.
Gaines grinned. âTell you what, Iâll meet you there.â
Hawkâs life flashed before his eyes. His parents, gone now, but so proud of him when theyâd been alive. Special Forces, where heâd had a good runâno, make that a great runâbefore moving to ATF.
Another great run.
Until now.
Maybe he should have added some more personal touches to his lifeâs canvas. A wife. Kids. But heâd always figured there was plenty of time for that.
Helluva time to be wrong. âDo it,â he said, coughing from the smoke. âAnd die.â
Gaines laughed. âYou have no idea how right you are. Now give me your gun.â
Hawk tossed it over, then attempted to keep breathing.