Page 45 of Heat Force
Hawk slammed his fist on the desk, making the tea tray rattle. “That’s unacceptable.”
Robert tried to explain, but Hawk wasn’t listening. His mind was already racing, formulating a plan. He wasn’t the corporate CEO anymore. He was the Navy SEAL, the soldier, the man who thrived under pressure and got things done.
“I’m coming over.” His voice was hard as steel.
“You can’t,” Robert protested. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t care,” Hawk growled. “She’s out there, and I’m not fucking leaving her to the wolves.”
He hung up and immediately began making calls. First to Grace, ordering her to book him on the next flight to Kinshasa.
“But you’re leaving for Ecuador next week,” she protested, but he cut her off, his tone allowing no room for argument.
Next, he called Patrick, an old SEAL buddy. Pat Burke, now retired from the Navy, ran an elite unit of ex-military soldiers and SEALs that Hawk often used for close protection in volatile regions. He outlined the problem and Pat promised to send twocompetent operators to help him navigate the rebel-controlled jungle territory and get Lexi back.
By the time Doug, his capable and competent CFO, came into his office, Hawk was a man on a mission. His usual polished demeanor had been replaced by something raw and primal.
“I’m going back to Africa,” he told Doug without preamble. “You’re in charge until I get back.”
“What about Ecuador?” Doug asked, alarmed.
“You’ll have to handle that,” Hawk said, grabbing his go-bag. “Take Max with you. He’s head of engineering. He’s perfectly able to assess the project.”
“What are you going to do in Africa?” Doug asked, following him out of the office.
“Fix a mistake.”
As he walked out of the building, his mind was laser-focused. There was no room for doubt, no room for fear. He would find Lexi. He would bring her back.
And God help anyone who stood in his way.
CHAPTER 20
Democratic Republic of Congo.
Hawk leanedagainst the doorway of the hut, staring out at the raging storm. The rain hammered against the thatched roof with relentless force, while lightening illuminated the muddy village in brief, jagged flashes.
“It’s fucking biblical,” he muttered, grimacing in disgust.
“Let’s give it twenty minutes for the worst of the storm to pass,” Phoenix, one of the ex-SEAL operators on loan from Pat said, leaning against the wall, his rifle resting against his thigh. The second operator, Viper, crouched by the window, alert and watchful.
Edmond, calm and composed as ever, sat cross-legged on the floor, sharpening his machete with practiced ease. The rhythmic scrape of the blade on stone was oddly soothing compared to the turmoil bubbling away inside of him.
“Okay, but then we move out. I want to close the gap before nightfall.”
They were close. According to the villagers, Lexi had been here, and she, Moyo and Patrick were alive. That knowledge fueled him, driving him on despite the appalling conditions.
Thirty-six hours wasn’t much of a head start, especially not in this terrain, but it wasn’t nothing either. They could still catch up if they pushed hard and didn’t waste a second.
Phoenix nodded. “The rain will hamper our movement, but it’ll also slow them down if they’re ahead of us. Patrick will be trying to keep the boy safe, and with an injury like that, they won’t be moving fast.”
Viper glanced up from his position by the window. “You think they’re headed for higher ground? Maybe trying to find a cave or some other shelter until the heat dies down?”
Hawk’s gaze darkened. “If Patrick knows this area as well as I think he does, he’ll avoid the obvious hiding spots. The rebels will be scouring the caves and the hills first. My guess is he’s sticking to the dense jungle, following water sources. He knows the terrain, and he knows how to stay hidden.”
Edmond spoke in French without looking up. “They will be careful, but they are vulnerable. The boy is slowing them down, and Miss Lexi … she is brave, but she is not a fighter.”
Hawk’s hands tightened into fists as he responded in kind. “She doesn’t have to be. That’s why we’re here.”