Jill Shalvis - Shadow Hawk

2007

Cheyenne, Wyoming

Regional ATF offices

SHE WAS ALL LEG, and Conner Hawk was most definitely a leg man. Hell, he was also a T &A man, but Abigail Wells, fellow ATF agent and communications expert, not to mention all around hot chick, was so well put together she could have made him a certified elbow man.

Too bad she hated his guts.

She walked-strolled-across the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms office, her soft skirt clinging to her thighs with every graceful swing of her hips. Her blazer hid her torso from view, but he knew she had it going on beneath that as well. Her honey-colored hair was pulled up in some complicated do that screamed On Top Of Her World.

As if shed read the direction his thoughts had traveled, Abigail glanced over at him, those bee-stung lips flipping her smile upside down, her eyes going from work-mode to pissy-female mode.

Oh yeah, there was the frown, the one shed been giving him ever since the day she joined the team six months ago. Shed come from the Seattle office, where shed worked in the field. He tried to imagine her wearing an ATF flak jacket, guarding his six, and was halfway lost in that fun fantasy when she spoke.

You. This in a tone that suggested he could, and should, go to hell.

Me, he agreed, surprised that shed even given him that one word. She usually avoided talking directly to him, as if he carried some new infectious disease.

Odd, since to everyone else shed been personable, even sweet and kind. It made that steely backbone of hers so surprising. When she decided to dig her heels into something, watch out. Hed seen it over and over, people so shocked by the unexpected toughness that this pleasant, melodious little thing exhibited that she got whatever she wanted. She must have been a hell of a force out in the field, probably underestimated by every single scum of the earth whod come across her, but here in Cheyenne shed stayed behind the scenes.

Youre late, she said in a school-principal-to-errant-student tone.

Oh yeah, now there was a fantasy He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the digital readout. Two minutes. He was two minutes late, and that was because someone had taken his parking spot. And he might have explained that to her if she hadnt been giving him the look that people gave their shoe when they stepped on dog shit.

Even as he thought it, her nose slightly wrinkled.

Yeah. In her eyes-which were an amazing drown-in-me blue-he was about equal to dog shit. Nice to know.

Were wanted in Tibbss office, Abigail said.

We? Well, that was a new term. Hawk dutifully followed her into their supervisors office, his gaze slipping down that stiff spine to her spectacular ass. Attitude or not, she looked good enough to nibble on. A little sweet, a little hotnice combo-

Whoa. Shed suddenly stopped, forcing him to put his hands on her hips rather than plow her over.

Clearly hating even that small contact, she jerked free and sent him a look that said go-directly-to-hell-without-passing-Go.

Right. Hands off. Maybe he should write that down somewhere.

Any news on the rifles? she asked.

Great. The absolute last thing he wanted to talk about. The rifles. Everyone had heard about the 350 confiscated rifles, which had gone missing from ATF storage before they could be melted down. Stolen, from beneath their noses.

His nose.

She was asking, of course, because hed been the agent on the raid, the one whod brought the weapons in. He had no idea how theyd gone missing, but he knew why. They had a mole and Hawk was getting too close.

No. No news.

I see. And with one last cool glance, she knocked on Tibbss door.

I see? What the hell did that mean? Before he could ask, Tibbs called out for them to enter.

Their supervisor stood behind his desk, which didnt make that much of a difference since he was maybe five foot four and nearly as round as he was tall. The balding man shoved his glasses higher on his prominent nose. We got a tip on the bombers, he said in that Alabama drawl of his.

Hawk had been working on the Kiddie Bombers for the past two years. Some asshole, or group of assholes, was teaching teenagers how to put together bombs, then using the explosives to terrorize big corporations into paying millions of dollars. Twelve kids had died so far, eight of them under the age of eighteen, and the ATF wanted the bomb-makers and their knowledge off the streets.

Hawk wanted that, too, and also the man running the Kiddie Bombers. Eighteen months ago hed nearly caught him in a raid on a downtown warehouse. In the pitch-black, on the hard concrete floor, theyd fought. Hawk had wrestled a gun from his hand, managing to shoot him before being tackled by another Kiddie Bomber.

Hawk had escaped with his life intact, thanks to his partner, Logan, and given that the gang had gone quiet after that night, it had been assumed that the Kiddie Bombers leader had died from his gunshot wound.

But a year ago, the Kiddie Bombers had popped back onto the radar, pulling off two huge jobs with weapons that had been previously confiscated by the ATF.

Hawk had his suspicions, mostly because there was only one person who could be linked to all the raids-Elliot Gaines. But that was so crazy wild, so out there, hed kept it to himself, except for Logan. What he hadnt kept to himself was his vow to get the Kiddie Bombers leader.

In the past month alone, Hawk and Logan had confiscated two huge warehouses full of ammo and other supplies. But not a single suspect. Tip? he asked Tibbs.

Suspicious activity, rumored arsenal. Orders came down from Gaines on this.

Elliot Gaines was the regional head. Or, as some put it, God. Word had spread that the Almighty was tired of the delays, tired of the false leads and really tired of the ATF looking like idiots.

Youre both heading out. Tibbs tossed a full file on his desk for them to read. Bullet City.

Northern Wyoming, approximately four-and-a-half hours from Nowhere, U.S.A. Yeah, made sense to Hawk. Isolated. Cold, which was good for the materials the bombers used. And, oh yeah, isolated. Great.

Word is tonights the night theyre testing some new product, Tibbs drawled. Well need to catch them in the middle of their private fireworks show.

That worked for Hawk. He picked up the file and flipped through it, reading about the barn thatd been found loaded to the gills with incriminating equipment, complete with an elusive owner they hadnt been able to pin down.

Abby shifted closer to read over Hawks shoulder, making him extremely aware of her tension as it crackled through the air like static electricity.

Youve got two hours, Tibbs told them. You fly out together.

Together? Abby repeated, her voice actually cracking.

Surprised at the unexpected chink in her armor, Hawk looked at her.

Youll run the show from the van, Abby, Tibbs said. And Hawk from the field. Therell be a team in place.

Abby blinked. But

Both men eyed her as two high splotches of color marked her cheeks. Interesting, Hawk thought. She was usually cool as ice. So what had her riled up? Him? Because she sure as hell got to him. He couldnt help it, beneath her veneer there was just something about her, somethingspecial. Sure, he wanted to do wicked things to her body and vice versa, but that alone wouldnt have kept him on edge around her for six months. Dont worry, he told her. Ive done this once or twice before.