Aim for the Heart. Ingrid Weaver
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Hawk had drawn a very clear line. It would be foolish to cross it. It would be grossly unprofessional. It would endanger her objectivity and thus her ability to perform her duty if she allowed herself to feel sympathy for him. Feeling sexually attracted to him was making it difficult enough to maintain her professional distance.
Two more days and this would be over. Then she wouldn’t have to wonder what the woman had been like, or whether even after fourteen years Hawk was still mourning her the way Sarah still mourned Jackson…
Damn. Hawk’s memories weren’t the only ones that were getting stirred up here. She’d better get her head on straight before she let herself get distracted.
Her pulse thumped hard. She realized it had been three minutes since she had checked her rearview mirror for a tail. She pulled to the curb.
“What are you doing?” Hawk asked.
“Making sure we weren’t followed.” She twisted on the seat to get a better view of the vehicles that passed them. None seemed familiar, but that was no guarantee. Until she knew more about who the hired assassin was, she wouldn’t know whether he worked alone or had a team to help him.
“Quicker to walk,” Hawk muttered as he leaned against the door. His jacket creaked again. The warm air that wafted from the heater in the dashboard brought the teasing hint of leather and man.
Something else that he’d said the night before came back to her. I still don’t trust you…but you’re one hell of an interesting woman.
He’d already called her beautiful, but he’d also called her crazy and suicidal. She didn’t take compliments on her appearance any more seriously than she took insults—they were superficial and didn’t affect her one way or another. Yet to be called interesting by a man as intelligent and complex as Hawkins Lemay… Lord help her, now that affected her. It was even more hazardous to her objectivity than the sight of him in a tuxedo.
Sarah settled her sunglasses more firmly on her nose and put the car back into gear. She couldn’t let this get personal. She was going to do her duty. That’s what she knew best.
Chapter 4
Jibril’s yacht was more like a cruise ship than a private vessel, dwarfing the other ships that were moored along the pier. It was at least two hundred feet long, with enough room for a swimming pool on the foredeck and a helicopter landing pad at the stern. Despite its size, it wasn’t ungainly. Its cream-colored superstructure had a sleek, aerodynamically tapered design. Its black hull gleamed like the coat of a well-tended race horse, straining against the lines that reined it in. Hawk was sure the color choice was deliberate, evoking sand and oil. The very fact Jibril had chosen to use this mode of transport despite the lateness of the season was deliberate, too. It was an ostentatious display of wealth. It was a statement of power.
It also carried a much more subtle message, one that Hawk wasn’t sure how to interpret. The prince had named his yacht Faith.
“This way, please.”
The man who met Hawk and Sarah as they came onboard was dressed in the thick twill pants and navy blue wool jacket of a sailor. His nose was angled to one side like a prizefighter who’d lost too many matches. Hawk recognized him as one of the guards who had accompanied the prince to the hotel the night before, and judging by the tension he sensed in Sarah, she recognized the man, as well. The guard led them past the empty helicopter pad, across the deck and stopped beside a set of thickly varnished mahogany doors. He rapped twice on the panels.
Another guard in the guise of a sailor opened the doors to a luxuriously furnished salon. Warm air billowed outward with the scent of lemon wax. The man dipped his head in a polite bow to Hawk. “This way, please.”
Hawk wondered whether it was the only English phrase the men knew. He also wondered whether Sarah was invisible. The men were ignoring her completely, treating her as she were nothing but a piece of furniture that happened to be trailing behind him. Yet as soon as he and Sarah entered the salon, all that changed.
One of the two men stepped in front of Sarah while his colleague moved behind her. “We ask you to surrender your weapon before you go farther,” the first man said. He held out his hand. “We will return it when you leave.”
To Hawk’s relief, Sarah didn’t argue. She unfastened her black coat, withdrew her gun and handed it butt first to Jibril’s guard. She then slipped her coat from her shoulders. The black sweater and pants she wore wouldn’t conceal much. Still, she spread her arms to the side and allowed the other guard to frisk her. Her face was impassive as his hands ran under her arms and down her hips. It was Hawk who made a sound of protest as the man slid his palms over the insides of her thighs.
Sarah looked at Hawk, her chin lifted with no loss of dignity. “This isn’t a problem, sir. He’s a soldier doing his job,” she said. She moved her gaze to the man in front of her. “I understand that, as I hope he understands that I’m merely doing mine.”
The search was concluded swiftly. Sarah folded her coat over her arm and fell into step behind him as Hawk was led deeper into the ship. They went through another set of mahogany doors, along a carpeted corridor and up a wide staircase bordered by gleaming brass rails. At the top was a sprawling room decorated entirely in white. Sunlight blazed through a bank of windows in one wall, reflecting from the marble tile floor and gleaming from the groupings of low silk-upholstered couches and glass-topped tables.
“Welcome, Hawkins!” A tall, thin shape moved toward them through the glare. “What do you think of my home away from home?”
“A very impressive toy, Jibril.” Hawk paused to look at the prince as they shook hands. Jibril was wearing western clothing today, a neat tweed blazer and trousers with knife-edge creases. Except for the beard, he looked even more like the man he’d been fourteen years ago. “How’s the fishing in the harbor?”
Jibril laughed. “That was one passion we didn’t have in common, my friend. I see you are still accompanied by your lovely but impetuous bodyguard.” He turned to Sarah with a condescending smile. “Your apology was brought to me earlier, Captain Fox. It was prettily worded. How could I not accept?”
She dipped her head. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Jibril gave an order to the guard with the crooked nose, then gestured toward the group of couches closest to the windows. “I have asked Ahmed to have coffee sent up for the two of us. Now tell me, Hawkins. What in the world have you done that has caused someone to put out a contract on your life?”
Of all the things Jibril might have said, this wasn’t one that Hawk had anticipated. Hawk glanced at Sarah, but she wasn’t looking at him. She had taken up a position near the window and was scanning the room. She gave no indication that she realized Jibril had just backed up her story, yet Hawk was certain that nothing got by her. “What have you heard?” Hawk asked.
Jibril gave a neat tug to his pant legs and seated himself in the center of the largest couch. He waited until Hawk had taken a seat on the couch across from him before he replied. “A man in my position has many sources of information, as I’m sure you know. I assume you heard of this threat, as well. Why else would you have acquired a bodyguard?”
Why else, indeed? There would be no reason for both Jibril and Sarah to tell the same lie. They likely wouldn’t have had the opportunity to coordinate their stories, either. Therefore, Sarah must have been telling the truth all along.
Hawk was surprised by the spurt of satisfaction he felt. Somehow he would prefer to believe Sarah was honest, even if it meant his life really was in danger.
Hell, that was completely illogical. “You mentioned a contract.”
“Yes. It is rumored to be substantial.” Jibril shrugged his shoulders. “But that is all I know. Who would do such a thing?”
“Apparently, there are many candidates.”
“There is a saying in my country—the way to judge a