Tears of the Hawk [Sons of Earth and Wind Book 1] [NOOK Book]

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CHAPTER 1

The sky is wrapped in somber clouds, and the tears of the sun and moon mingle. Let the daughter of the skies guard her heart from the son of earth and wind.

-- Prophecy by Elizabeth Morgana Starr

• • •

He'd dreamed again last night. Dreamed of ripping terror, destruction, and death.

Days and nights of violence years earlier still had the power to shatter Hawk Adams' peace of mind. Here, half a world away on the coast of Southern California, the spectre of his past had brought him to a park in the first pale light of a new day.

He stared at dark trees silhouetted against the rising sun and saw only the scenes that haunted his nights; scenes of shadow wars in faraway jungles and deserts, of comrades dying around him. He recalled enemies he'd faced in combat and felt deep regret for the loss of life. He'd been young then, wild, yet bound by duty. Now, years later, his mind still carried the tumbled chaos, the fury beyond madness that made him want to rage, to slash and destroy, to do the unthinkable -- show weakness by shedding tears.

Suddenly, a woman's scream split the dawn. Hawk bolted to his feet and instinctively raced toward the desperate cry.

Ahead, stands of pine and eucalyptus screened the woman's position, but he heard the thud and scrape of a violent fight.

• • •

The speed and viciousness of the attack tore one scream from Charity Starr before she put her energy into beating off the two strangers. Only moments ago, she'd enjoyed the cool breeze and the distant thunder of ocean waves. Now she fought in bone-aching terror.

Growling, "Gimme thedamn case, bitch," the burly man clamped her arms against his sweaty body, and pried her fingers from the computer bag.

God, no. Twisting, she straddled the case to protect its secrets.

The second man ordered, "Hold her, Rhino. I'll help." He grabbed her hips. She wrenched one hand loose long enough to rake fingernails across the wiry man's face. Howling, he clapped a palm over one eye.

Fear gripped her as she caught a whiff of a familiar, sharp odor in the cloth Rhino tried to jam against her face. She flung her head back, hearing and feeling the crunch when she connected with his nose. He dropped the cloth and screamed curses at her. His hot blood dripped down the nape of her neck, soaking into the collar of her denim jacket. Gagging at the coppery scent, she brought the heel of her running shoe down hard on his instep, wishing she'd worn hobnail boots. He swore and cuffed the side of her head.

Her ears rang from the blow. She gritted her teeth against the pain in her shoulders, and lunged to break away. It didn't work.

The wiry man clawed at her ankles. Terrified, she kicked him in the groin. He rolled away cursing again.

Panting, she fought in silent fury against Rhino, the big man behind her. He shoved her arms higher against her spine, anchoring them with cruel force. She clamped her lips, strained forward to ease the pressure, then kicked backward at his knee.

She missed.

Her left wrist ached where his steely fingers dug into tender flesh. She gulped air, sick with fear for the vital and deadly information in the laptop and in her mind.

Almost blinded by terror, she felt sudden hope as a tall, masculine figure emerged from the shadows and sped toward them.

Her rescuer tore Rhino away from her. She stumbled over the case, and looked up to see her unknown defender punch out the big kidnapper.

With the precious computer bag cradled in her arms, she stood just as the wiry kidnapper came out of nowhere and rammed her into a tree.

"No!"

Hearing the woman's anguished cry, Hawk whirled in time to see her fall, and the second kidnapper run off toward another line of trees carrying a small, dark blue case.

The young woman lay sprawled on the grass against the rough base of the trunk, eyes closed, skin ashen. Blood stained her neck, her jacket, and the pink T-shirt that stretched over the soft curves of her breasts.

Kneeling beside her, he pressed his fingers to the pulse point on her throat.

She bit off a moan as her eyes fluttered open. "Did he get my case?"

"Yeah. Don't worry." Concerned about the source of the fresh blood, he noted signs of shock in her eyes and pale clammy skin.

She tried to sit up.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Stay down. You're hurt."

"You don't understand. I can't let him get it." Fumbling in her jacket pocket, she pulled out a small control box.

"Quiet, lady. You're in shock."

"No! Let me go. I have to do this."

Filled with grudging admiration, he propped her up.

Her fingers trembled as she entered a code, aimed one end at the figure disappearing into the distant grove, pushed a button, then fell back against his supporting arm.

He heard a small pop and the crook's sharp cry of alarm. A puff of smoke curled from the stolen case. The thief dropped it and kept running.

"Another failure..." She fainted.

Muffled sounds behind Hawk alerted him to the other attacker's escape.

"Damn, should've hit him harder."

He turned back to examine the young woman. Strands of dark brown hair had come loose from an intricate French braid. Her black lashes lay curled on pale cheeks.

With skilled fingers, he searched for a source of the fresh blood on her clothes. He examined her head, swearing at the cut and rapidly growing bump where she'd crashed against the tree.

She looked so helpless lying there -- like a young dove with a broken wing he'd once found huddled on a forest floor. As he smoothed away a wisp of hair from her face, a surge of protectiveness rose in his chest.

"Can't leave you here alone," Hawk muttered.

Carrying the unconscious woman to his black Jaguar, he laid her on the grass. He got a soft Navajo blanket from the trunk, and cocooned her in its warm, woolen folds.

With the first aid kit from his car, Hawk cleaned and bandaged the cut on her head, then checked her pupils and counted her pulse. As he wiped the assailant's blood from her neck and hands, he studied her slim fingertips. Flakes of skin and blood under the nails bore grim testimony to her desperate battle.

Hawk folded her small hand in his, impressed by her courage. "Who are you, girl?" he wondered aloud. "And why are you in the park at dawn?"

Opening the door, he picked her up again, all too aware of her womanly curves and delicate frame as he settled her, still tucked in the blanket, into the car.

Baffled by the urge to take her home and protect her, he studied her through the windshield and shook his head.

Deciding to retrieve the mysterious blue case for the unconscious woman, he jogged back to where the thief had dropped it.

He found it easily, detouring to retrieve the small control box. Farther on, a piece of cloth partly trampled by a small footprint caught his attention. He picked it up by one corner, recognizing the characteristic pungent odor of chloroform, and carried it with the control box and case back to the car. He sealed the rag in a plastic sample bag, automatically preserving evidence.

"Kidnap," he muttered. What other reason would there be for an anesthetic? She must have fought like hell before he got there to prevent the bastards from drugging her senseless.

The case held a lap top computer with a small hole in the middle. So she'd destroyed information to keep it from the crooks who'd jumped her. Hawk marveled at the tremendous drive that had roused her long enough to key the code and set off the explosive.

A wallet in the blue bag provided her identification; Charity Elizabeth Starr from Virginia.

Settling behind the wheel, he switched on the engine, pulled onto the street , and glanced at her. "Hey, wake up, lady."

She didn't respond. Cursing under his breath, he drove faster toward the hospital.

• • •

Impatiently, Hawk swept aside the pale blue drapes separating Charity's narrow cubicle from others. "When are you getting a medic in here? Five minutes is too long."

A man in green scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck appeared. "I'm Dr. Raymond. What happened? How long has the young lady been unconscious?"

"About fifteen minutes, since two men attacked her." Introducing himself, Hawk told the doctor her name and described the fight while the doctor bent to examine Charity's head.

"I'll give you an update on your girlfriend's condition later," Dr. Raymond said, writing on the medical chart. "There's a waiting room past the clerk's office."

Hawk didn't correct the doctor's error. He realized he'd get more information about her condition if the hospital authorities thought he and Charity had a close relationship.

He gave her medical insurance card to the clerk, saying, "I'll call the police and move my car."

While he waited for an officer to arrive, Hawk used his car phone to contact his friend, Michael Forest, on the chance he might have information about the unconscious woman. Michael kept track of a world-wide business empire through his sophisticated communications network. Plus, he had ties to covert operations. When Michael answered, Hawk quickly outlined the events.

"Charity Starr?" Michael responded. "She's here to do research for us at the Sequoia Foundation. One of my people heard a rumor about a plot to kidnap her at Stanford after her lecture, but a male member of her family was with her. I'll access her file."

As Hawk heard the tap of computer keys, he wondered if the same men had made both kidnap attempts.

"Got it," Michael said. "Miss Starr has advanced degrees in Chemistry and Astrophysics. She's scheduled to do a seminar on solar energy in four days." He tapped more keys. "There's something else I can't pin down, but she could still be in danger."

Hawk's muscles tensed. "I figured that."

"I'll keep digging and see what turns up."

A squad car pulled into the parking lot, and Hawk said, "Call me," before hanging up.

Hawk followed the policeman into the hospital and identified himself as the witness. The officer studied Charity's Driver's License, accepted the sample bag, listened to Hawk's report, and read his business card.

"Challenge Security Consultants. Did Miss Starr hire you for protection, Mr. Adams?"

"No, I live just up the road. I was jogging in the park."

In a short time the doctor came out. "We're running a CT scan. She's still unconscious and I suspect a skull fracture."

If I'd been thirty seconds faster... Hawk clenched one fist.

Dr. Raymond promised to notify them when he had more information and disappeared through the automatic doors.

In a few minutes, the officer finished his preliminary report and left.

Waiting for an update on Charity's condition, Hawk ignored a jolt of anticipation at the idea of seeing her again. He'd talk with her a minute or two and leave. Nothing personal, he told himself, discounting the possibility of any attraction.

• • •

Charity fought her way out of a starless night. A dream? A nightmare? Why did her head throb, her eyes refuse to open? Strangers' voices confused her. And why did she hear the beep and whir of unfamiliar equipment?

"Where am I?" she murmured, trying to sort and identify the sounds and scents around her.

The sharp odor of antiseptic and soap, and, "Paging Doctor Wayne Ford," gave her the answer.

"I'm in a hospital. Why?" She rubbed her forehead. I can't remember!

A man's voice startled her. "Open your eyes, Charity. I'm Doctor Raymond."

"Doctor?" Touching a bandage on her head, she gazed up into the warm eyes of a stranger.

"You're in Ocean Community Hospital. How do you feel?"

"Like Mars fell on me. What happened?"

"You were attacked."

Suddenly cold, she dug her fingers into the blanket to stop their trembling. "Now I remember. Two men tried to kidnap me. God, I was terrified."

"Relax. You're safe. Your boyfriend brought you here."

"Boyfriend?"

"Adams." The doctor pulled a small penlight from his pocket. Murmuring, "Just want to check your pupils," he flashed the thin beam in her eyes.

"But I don't--"

"You should rest." Doctor Raymond patted her hand. "You needed stitches, and suffered a mild concussion. We'll keep you overnight for observation. When you're up to it, you can sign the forms."

"Yes, insurance. The card's in my wallet." Memory hit. "My purse! It was in the bag they took."

"Don't worry. Adams brought your purse and wallet."

Charity recalled black hair, shadowed eyes, and powerful hands holding back the terror, helping her "I want to talk to him."

"He's waiting to see you as soon as you're transferred to your room."

• • •

Restlessly, Charity tossed in her hospital bed and fought to stay awake. She had to find out about the data in her laptop. Had it been completely destroyed? She hoped so.

Closing her eyes against nausea and headache-induced flashes of light, she listened to carts rattling and nurses passing in the hall.

She was dimly aware of a disturbance, like a swirl in the fog. A presence.

"Miss Starr?" The stranger who'd rescued her earlier approached in soundless steps.

Her gaze fastened on his face. Her breath caught. She was stunned by his aura of masculine power and her own rising attraction.

She tried to look away, but her full attention was captured by his dark eyes.

"I'm Hawk Adams. I brought you here." His deep baritone held a gentle note of caring so at odds with her last memory of him battling the kidnappers.

She extended her hand. "Thanks for your help." She heard a quiver in her voice and despised her weakness.

He took possession of her hand in both of his and a murky flood of sadness began to overwhelm her, rising, cresting like an ocean tide.

"No," she whispered. Cold perspiration trickled down her spine. Chills wracked her body. Empathic skills she'd caged for ten years awakened, and she struggled to shore up the shattered barriers that shielded her from knowing his pain and the emotional scars that haunted his days and nights.

One more frantic effort blocked him out of her mind. But another mental wall crumbled under the pressure. From every part of the hospital, emotions bombarded her. Other people's fear, joy, the sudden blanking out of death, pounded through her mind and body.

Then, a growing sense of pressure, of brightness, and confusion, and half-formed thoughts filled her mind. What? Who? She drank a deep, steadying breath, and traced the thread of consciousness back to its source -- a newborn experiencing its first minutes after birth.

Sweet baby. She felt a smile on her lips as she tapped into her strength to soothe the newborn and ease the mother's pains.

From another floor, a thick wave of grief brought tears to her eyes. Instinctively she sought the source, a middle-aged man's aching sorrow as he held the hand of his dying wife. Charity's heart wept for him, and she returned comfort and peace.

As the clamor of emotional heights and depths faded, once again locked beyond protective barriers, she took a tremulous breath. Her stamina had been drained, but she'd staved off her greatest, most terrifying fear.

The rescuer's strong fingers still gripped her hand, anchoring her to the here and now. "You're hurting. I'll call a nurse."

"Don't call anyone. I'll be okay."

But she wasn't okay. It was him. The power of his compassion and mental force overwhelmed her.

Damn, she thought renewing her desperate fight for control. My gifts would choose this moment to operate. Her internal barricades, half-shuttered to protect herself, opened more. She sensed a flicker of battle rage and chaos held in tight control. It came from him, the stranger who'd rescued her. Something else -- an awareness of violence and terror, of the ability to hunt or stalk relentlessly -- flickered at the edge of his thoughts then skittered away before she could grasp it. Instead, she mentally heard the beat of mighty wings and the harsh cry of a great, dark, hunting bird.

One thing was certain, in the time it took for him to clasp her hand, he'd unlocked doors she fought daily to keep sealed.

She studied the powerful man standing beside her. Her impression of the mighty hunting bird had been correct. He exuded an aura of danger.

Another spear of pain darted through her head and she winced.

Carefully, hard fingers gently squeezed hers. Hawk's dark eyes, warm with concern, searched her face. "Didn't they give you something for pain?"

"The doctor said no because of my concussion." Charity laid her hand on his forearm. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. You have a tender heart, you know."

Hawk's expression remained impassive, but a new psychic gift opened, and she unintentionally caught his thought; Tender. Me? Hell! That bump on her head did more damage than I thought.

Shaken by the contact, she closed the connection between them. In her twenty-six years, she'd never read anyone's thoughts, not even members of her family. She felt vulnerable to this strong man with a troubled soul.

His voice intruded. "Why did those men attack you and what's so important about your computer that you destroyed it?"

"Please sit down, Mr. Adams..."

"Call me Hawk."

Charity studied him a moment while he pulled a chair closer and sat. His face was sculpted in strong planes. High cheekbones and a copper tinge in his dark tan revealed an Amerind heritage. Black hair, the sheen of a raven's wing, matched slashing eyebrows. His eyes, as dark and fathomless as midnight, reminded her of the volcanic obsidian ancient Native Americans had fashioned into arrow and spear points. She saw that same sharpness and cutting power in him.

"Hawk, you do deserve an explanation, but please keep it confidential."

"You can trust me."

She had a brief memory of him appearing out of the dawn like the spirit of revenge, to fight her battle.

"I know. First, thank you for coming to my rescue. Those men terrified me."

"You had good reason." He leaned forward to rest his hand on hers.

A funny little quiver rippled up her arm. For a moment, she couldn't collect her thoughts. Still confused by her reaction to his touch, she asked, "What happened to my computer?"

"You blew a hole in it with your fancy explosive. Why did you say another failure?"

"I'm doing research. My laptop held important formulas and calculations. I rigged it with a tiny explosive device to destroy the information before the wrong people got it."

"Sounds like you're mixed up in industrial espionage."

"Not by choice. My current work will concentrate the power of solar winds. It's another failure because it sets back my final date of completion."

Charity stroked Hawk's wrist while she talked, barely aware of her movements. "NASA is interested. They'll have an endless supply of power throughout the solar system."

"Sounds like a damn good deal for the space program." Hawk glanced at his wrist where she stroked him. He wondered if she knew how arousing her soft touch felt. He sure as hell did.

"Sorry." Bright pink mantled her cheeks. "I've always been a tactile person. I handle and stroke things or people when I'm thinking."

"Who's complaining?" Charmed by her blush, he hid his amusement when she yanked away her hand.

Leaning back, he turned slightly so he wouldn't make her feel crowded or threatened. He needed the space, too. His growing attraction to her was becoming physically obvious. "That why they tried to kidnap you?"

Charity gazed at him a moment, her eyes shadowed. "The discovery has other, classified applications." She picked at the blanket, then smoothed the fabric. "Twice in the last three months, someone has tried to steal my portable computer so I always keep it in reach."

Hawk heard the anger and concern in his own voice as he asked, "Then why in the hell did you walk alone in the park at sunrise, for God's sake?"

Her fingers froze on the blanket. She gazed at him, her eyes wide and dark, reminding Hawk of a tiny squirrel when it sees the shadow of a wild hawk hovering overhead.

She swallowed and raised her delicate chin in challenge. "Listen, I opened the drapes and watched a woman walk her dog down the street. Then two cars pulled into the parking lot, and people wearing hotel uniforms climbed out. I even saw a police cruiser drive past. I thought it was safe."

"It's never safe for a woman out that early. Lady, you better learn a little caution."

Smiling, Charity said, "You sound like my oldest brother, Daniel. He spent half my childhood getting me out of scrapes."

The last thing Hawk wanted was to be attracted to Charity, but he'd already lost that battle. She had him tangled up with just a glance. The longer he sat there feeling her innocence and warmth, the more he felt drawn to her.

Uncoiling from the chair, he stood, ready to leave. "Have you called your family?"

"I don't want a member of the Starr clan swooping down on me. Whoever comes will try to bundle me up and take me back home."

"Sounds like a good idea."

"Not when I've spent most of my life working hard to convince them I can do things for myself."

He raised one eyebrow at her determined expression. "Just stay there until you've recovered from your injuries."

"Don't."

"Don't what?" Again, she reminded him of a wild squirrel, but this time her fur was ruffled.

"Don't treat me like a child. I can make my own decisions. That's why I applied for the research grant here in Orange County, clear across the continent from my family. I have to prove my independence."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Sorry to sound ungrateful. It's a long story. The shorter version is that I'm the youngest of seven children. Since I'm also small and female, it brings out my family's protective streak."

"I can understand that. You do seem kind of young to be out on your own." He smothered a grin at the sparks of anger in her eyes.

"I'm twenty-six years old. I've been on my own since I went to the university, but they still try to protect me." With a wry expression, she added, "After teaching two summer session classes, I had a month-long lecture tour. In every city, a different member of my family just happened to show up."

He held up one hand. "You win." He took out his card case. "Here's my card. Reach me at home or in my car. If not, my office will track me down. Notify me what time they'll discharge you tomorrow. I'll drive you to where you're staying."

"No thanks. I'll make my own arrangements."

"I suggest you accept. You don't have any family here."

Charity pushed herself up on her elbows. "I said no."

"That's tough. I'll be here tomorrow."

• • •

Charity watched him go. His hard, muscled body held an honorable man. He'd been kind and considerate, but he'd fought with deadly skill. Now he acted over protective. She knew she should stay away from him. His effect on her paranormal talents put her in danger. She'd have to leave before he returned the next day.

A sudden chill iced her skin. Tiny hairs rose on the back of her neck. Once more, she saw and experienced her uncle trapped in a killer's emotions and held by brute force. Nausea choked her. She lunged against the same psychopath who held her a mental captive too.

Her eyes snapped open. Safe. She was safe. At least physically safe, but her internal barriers quivered under the waves of acute emotions filling the hospital.

Charity twisted the sheets with her fingers. Her Starr heritage of psychic abilities had returned to haunt her. Since that hideous moment when her uncle died tangled in a killer's emotions, she'd locked away her own empathic gifts. Mysteriously, Hawk had opened that door and sparked a new gift, the ability to read his thoughts.

But this time she was an adult, not a vulnerable sixteen-year-old. Extra-sensory gifts were her genetic heritage, encoded in her mind and body as much as the shape of her hands or feet. Instead of sealing them in some shadowed corner of her mind, she'd accept the responsibility and consequences of their use.

With that decision came another, long hidden recollection of a prophecy spoken by her mother years earlier:

"The sky is wrapped in somber clouds, and the tears of the sun and moon mingle. Let the daughter of the skies guard her heart from the son of earth and wind."

In the depths of her mind, the door of perception opened to a higher level of understanding. On the day the tears of the sun and moon mingled, Hawk would hold her heart in his hand and either cherish or destroy it.

• • •

Hawk strode away knowing he was in over his head. The small woman with hair the color of rich earth and eyes like wild violets had burrowed under his defenses.

He caught his reflection in a window and muttered, "You're ten years older than her, and a half-breed, ex-street kid with a degree in efficient fighting thanks to Special Forces. She has a home, a family and a Ph.D. in Astrophysics."

He turned the corner and went through the exit as the doors slid open. Hell! I wouldn't know a solar wind from breaking wind.

Hawk walked out into the bright morning sunshine. Charity's playground spread across the universe. Ties of his heritage bound him to the earth.

As he'd held her unconscious body in the park, he'd been filled with a tender protectiveness. In Emergency, her welfare had been vital to him. Talking with her in the hospital room had loosened dark bands of tension coiling through his body. With that thought came the sudden realization of the peace he'd found in her presence. True, he wanted to bask in that peace, but how could he and still protect her? The horror of his past would destroy the very innocence that, in his experience, made her tender and unique.

"Dammit," he muttered, striding toward his car. He'd see her tomorrow and keep his promise to drive her to the hotel, but that would be the end of it. He couldn't risk getting more involved.

Copyright © 2002 by Barbara Clark