Hunter's Pride Page 2

  Morgan smiled to himself. Tango, a military term that meant target, was used to identify the person a mercenary would be protecting. “No,” he said slowly, “she’s your partner.” Steeling himself, he saw Dev’s expression go first, to surprise and then to mild shock before he set his jaw firmly. Hunter was a loner among the elite personnel of Perseus; he didn’t work with a partner. He never had—until now.

  Glancing briefly down at the photo, Dev bit back an automatic “No.” He knew Morgan too well, and he sensed his boss was trying to trap him into taking the mission by showing him an incredibly beautiful woman. Morgan knew a pretty face was Dev’s Achille’s heel. Anger sparked within Dev and tension ran through him momentarily. Yet, as he looked at the photo, those shining eyes filled with such life and awe, he found his anger dissolving. That shook him. No woman had ever had that kind of hold on him. He took that back—one had, but not to this powerful degree at first glance—and that relationship had ended up in a disaster of untold proportions that haunted him to this moment.

  “What’s her name?” he demanded gruffly.

  Morgan was surprised. He’d expected Hunter to instantly put up a fight and flatly turn down the assignment. Something must have captured his attention. Smiling to himself, Morgan answered, “Kulani Dawson.”

  “Kulani…” Dev muttered, more to himself than to Morgan. He repeated the name over and over in his mind. The funny thing was, his heart pounded a little bit every time the word spun through the halls of his mind. Was he just having a purely male response to this photo of her? She was stunning looking. More ethereal than real to Dev. He wanted her. For him it was that primal, that straightforward. Yes, it had to be his desire for her that had caught him off guard. That was all.

  “Kulani used to work for us. She’s a helicopter pilot,” Morgan continued. “She was one of the first women to fly helos in the U.S. Navy. I found out about her, managed to convince her to leave her military career behind and work for us.” His voice grew sad. “A little over a year and a half ago, she quit. She runs her own tourist helicopter service over on Kauai now.”

  Dev grinned cockily. “This is one helluva dessert to be putting on my plate.” He placed the photo back on Morgan’s desk. “You know I don’t do partners. And even though I’m intrigued, I’m not changing my mind about how I operate.”

  Holding up his scarred hand, Morgan said, “Hear me out first, Dev, before you make a final decision.”

  Shrugging his broad shoulders, Dev replied, “You’re the boss. What’s up?”

  Becoming grim, Morgan said, “Your brother Ty and the team from the Organization of Infectious Diseases—OID—confirmed that a genetically altered form of anthrax was sprayed upon an unsuspecting Juma Indian village south of Manaus as a ‘test’ case for Black Dawn, the international terrorist group.”

  “Damn,” Dev whispered painfully. “I didn’t know the details. I suspected what was going on, but Ty didn’t say for sure.”

  “He couldn’t. This is top secret information. But it’s been confirmed through five different governmental agencies, including our own. It’s only a matter of time until Black Dawn picks a top event target.”

  “Like delivering anthrax by air over a major city?”

  “Yes, and probably a U.S. city—that’s our best, educated guess.” Morgan tapped the pile of e-mail messages on his desk. “But we’ve got a lead. A strong one. And I hope this isn’t a wild-goose chase this time. The light plane used to deliver the aerosol spray over the Juma village in the Brazilian jungle had numbers on the side of the fuselage. We were able to trace those numbers.”

  Dev’s brows shot up. “That was a pretty basic mistake on Black Dawn’s part not to disguise or change the lettering on the plane.”

  Morgan agreed. “No plan, no matter how carefully thought up, is without mistakes and screwups. And this is theirs.”

  “Who does the plane trace to?” Dev asked, unable to keep his gaze from wandering to the photo of Kulani Dawson. There was such incredible life in her. There was a radiance about her face, as if she were caught in the throes of something so sacred that Dev could not even begin to connect with it. That didn’t matter. He knew with sudden insight that just by being next to her, hearing her voice, and looking into her eyes, he could somehow possess it. Possess her. Shaken, he forced himself to pay attention to Morgan.

  Pulling a paper from the file, Morgan rumbled, “A Professor Jevon Valdemar. A refugee from the Balkans granted asylum by our government to continue his work in biochemistry.” The derision in his voice was heavy. Tossing the paper toward Dev, he added, “The turncoat son of a bitch has sold us out. We gave him asylum, grant money in the millions and what did he do? He joined Black Dawn, perfected the genetic anthrax to kill millions around the world.” Morgan’s nostrils quivered as he glared across the desk at Dev, who picked up the paper and looked at the photo of the professor on it.

  Eyes narrowing, Dev studied the thin-faced man with round, gold, wire-rimmed glasses. The professor appeared to be in his late fifties, his hair gray and helter-skelter across his broad forehead. “Funny how faces never tell the whole story,” Dev murmured philosophically. “You’d think a killer would look like a killer. You’d think they’d have pig eyes, hard faces, their features broadcasting just what kind of people they were.”

  Morgan’s eyes were icy. “Valdemar looks like a radical in my opinion.”

  “How does this top event tie in with her?” Dev asked as he slid the paper back to Morgan. Again, his gaze drifted to the beautiful Kulani Dawson. He’d been over on Hawaii, the Big Island, and Oahu, but never on Kauai. He’d seen his share of hula dancers, but no one like Kulani. Was she the daughter of Pele, the fire goddess? She looked it, with the fire in her heart, her passion, written across her lovely face, in her shining eyes.

  “She did a little of the legwork for us already, because after we traced the plane back to the professor, we discovered it was originally bought in Kauai. Since then we’ve found out Valdemar was paying rental at Lihue Airport for his plane. How it got from there to Brazil, we don’t know. It could have been transported in the belly of a large cargo plane. In any case, Professor Valdemar disappeared a year ago from Kauai, where he was doing his work at a local lab that was part of the CIA efforts. His plane disappeared from Lihue Airport about the same time he did. Rafe, our contact in Brazil, found the plane after a search of the Manaus airport with that city’s police detectives. Rafe, who is one of our deep mole Perseus operatives, showed a photo of the professor to Manaus airport employees and Valdemar was positively identified. And now we have another lead. Kulani saw Professor Valdemar back at Lihue Airport three weeks ago. Further, she’s reported an unmarked black helicopter coming and going just at dusk or dawn around the Na Pali Coast area, on the north side of the island.”

  “Even though she doesn’t work for you anymore, it sounds like she keeps pretty good tabs on the island for you,” Dev said with a slight smile.

  “Well,” Morgan hedged, “let’s put it this way. I was the one who contacted her. I sent the professor’s photo over the Internet to her. I asked if she’d seen him around the airport she flies out of, and she said she had. When I asked if she’d seen anything unusual by way of flights or airplanes, she mentioned the black helo.”

  Intrigued, Dev asked, “So you think the professor is on Kauai right now and you want me to verify that?”

  “Yes, and I want you to persuade Kulani to join you.” Morgan held up his hand in warning. “And before you say no, hear me out,” he growled. “This mission is going to absolutely take both of you. I’m choosing you because of your mountain climbing skills. I need her to help you because she has equal skills in climbing. Plus she knows those damned dangerous valleys where the professor’s lab is located and the sheer lava cliffs you’re going to have to climb down to get there, better than anyone.”

  Morgan slowly stood up and turned around. Pulling down a screen, he pointed to the detailed map of Kauai pictured th
ere. “These lava cliffs on the Na Pali Coast are twenty-two hundred feet high. They’re sheer, vertical faces with nothing but lichen, grass, moss, ferns and brush clinging to their surface. Kulani grew up climbing these cliffs. She knows them like the back of her hand. And she knows the Kalalau Valley, where we believe the professor has his lab hidden. We can’t go busting in there with a military force. If the professor is there, and he hears us coming, he’s liable to let loose some of that anthrax and put the entire island’s population at risk. I’m working with FBI headquarters, as well as with their field office located on the Big Island. We’ve got the green light to try and get in there and insert a team to verify the professor and his lab are there. If you can take ’em out, you’ll do it. Quickly, quietly and cleanly. I want Valdemar alive, if possible. We know he’s making enough anthrax for a top event. You and Kulani will stop him.”

  Dev shook his head. “Morgan, I’ve climbed every mountain in North America. Climbing is a single sport.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s teamwork between you and the others you’re roped with, and you know that.” He scowled. “Besides, I’ve got other problems. This mission is far from stable at the moment.”

  “Oh?” Dev gazed down at Kulani’s photo. Damn, but she was a delicious-looking woman. And what a dichotomy she was—part goddess of the old Hawaiian culture, part modern-day woman and helicopter pilot. Hell, it would be worth taking the mission just to meet her, he thought, grinning to himself. Outwardly, he kept his expression carefully neutral and monitored because he knew Morgan could read a person like a book, quite literally sometimes.

  Grumpily, Morgan said, “Kulani doesn’t want to take this mission.”

  Dev couldn’t help himself; one corner of his mouth lifted—just a tad. That wouldn’t stop him from meeting her, however. She was too much of a looker not to check her out. Dev liked women. All kinds of women. But while he enjoyed them, he refused to get entangled—ever. After a good time, maybe some good, mutual loving, it was time to part company.

  “That’s okay by me. I can handle a little rappelling down a cliff to get what you want.”

  Morgan sighed. “It’s not that easy, Dev. Don’t you think, if it was, I’d tell you to undertake this mission alone? The sheer walls of lava that embrace these deep valleys on Kauai are unlike any other mountaineering challenge. That’s why you need Kulani.” Running his fingers through his hair, Morgan muttered, “And she refuses to help us. To help you.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt for me to go and meet her. Maybe I can change her mind.” But Dev had other things in mind he’d rather persuade her to do, like have dinner with him. Hell, if he was going to undertake this mission in Kauai, he might as well go down and meet her.

  “I hope,” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair and intently studying Dev, “that you can talk her into working with you. Use that considerable charm you’ve got to persuade her.”

  “Morgan, I can’t promise you anything.” Dev wasn’t about to twist Kulani’s arm to work with him. He wouldn’t promise Morgan that. Dev Hunter worked alone and that was that. But there wouldn’t be any harm in meeting her.

  Eyes narrowing, Morgan growled, “You will not go on this mission alone. If you can’t get Kulani to agree to it, you call it off and we’ll turn the problem over to the FBI.” Morgan held up his index finger. “We have one chance. And it involves two people or it’s a no-go. Do you understand?”

  The heavy warning in Morgan’s voice put Dev on alert. He wondered if his boss was reading his mind. No, that was impossible. Closing his fists, he said, “I’ll do my best. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Nodding, Morgan relaxed slightly. “Okay, you fly to Kauai, get in touch with Kulani and then let me know what goes down. If she’s not on board for this mission, then we’re out of it in a heartbeat.”

  Rising, Dev smiled slightly. “I’ll do my best to charm her. Usually, women can’t resist me.”

  “Kulani isn’t like most women you know,” Morgan warned. “She’s like a daughter to me. I admire her. I respect the hell out of her. Lately, life has dealt her a pretty rotten hand. You’re going to have your hands full, Hunter, and not like you think.”

  Dev’s grin widened boyishly. “I just can’t imagine any woman turning me down. That hasn’t happened in so long I can’t remember the last time.”

  Morgan chuckled. “I’ll give you an A for confidence, Hunter. There’s more info in the file you need to read up on. But do that on the flight to the islands. Be in touch.”

  Dev nodded. He picked up the folder and placed the color photo of Kulani inside. “This assignment definitely has perks. I’m looking forward to persuading Ms. Dawson to work with us.”

  Well, maybe that wasn’t exactly the truth, Dev admitted as he left the office. Kulani Dawson would make his life interesting, but he didn’t need her help going into that dinky little valley and finding the turncoat professor. He’d get as much information about the climb from Kulani as he could, without having to partner up with her. So, he’d mix wooing a pretty lady with a little business, and then head out on the mission alone. No woman was capable of the sustained and dangerous demands this mission would make on her. Anyway Morgan was just being overcautious, as usual.

  Nope, dinner, definitely. But as to making Kulani his partner, that would never happen. Not ever.

  Chapter Two

  Kulani Dawson greeted the morning with dread. The phone call from Morgan Trayhern the night before had left her raw and hurting. As she moved around her bungalow, the bright orange-and-purple bird-of-paradise blooming outside the kitchen nook looked strong and resilient compared to how she felt as she prepared her coffee.

  Normally, Kulani eagerly looked forward to the delicious quiet of this time of day. The bungalow lay at the end of a dirt road, a mile from the main highway that encircled most of the garden isle of Kauai. From the kitchen window of her home, which sat high atop a hill surrounded by pink and red begonia bushes nearly three feet tall and slender palms silhouetted against the sky, she could see the hint of an apricot dawn lovingly lavishing the Pacific Ocean.

  Dressed in a pair of comfortable khaki slacks and a peach-colored, short-sleeved blouse, she swept strands of her thick, black hair, still loose and falling almost to the middle of her back, away from her face as she sat down and sipped the fragrant coffee. The glass slats of the window were open to allow the cool morning air into the bungalow. Because Kauai lay in the middle of the ocean, there was always a breeze. Kulani leaned back in the well-worn, white wicker chair, resting the colorful cup decorated with red hibiscus between her long fingers and watching the breeze move the mighty fronds of the palm trees that surrounded the property.

  This place was her haven. Her healing. Her mother, one of the most beloved kahunas in the islands, had birthed her here thirty years ago with the help of several of her sister kahunas. Kulani had been brought into the world with welcoming love, in beautiful, natural surroundings. As she thought of her mother now, her gaze moved to the black-and-white photo on the wall near the window—a picture of her parents with their arms around one another, smiling. She’d purposely placed the bamboo-framed photo of them there where she could see it each morning, and it always made her smile. It also brought sadness over the memory of their early demise in a car accident five years ago.

  Sipping the coffee, Kulani’s midnight eyes darkened with pain. She’d lost her parents. And then…Quickly, she swerved away from the emotional powerhouse of thoughts and feelings surrounding the loss of her fiancé a year and a half ago. Struggling, she forced the memories deep down inside her. Morgan’s unexpected call had torn loose the heavy steel door she’d placed against that terrible day when she’d lost the rest of her world. Lost her will to live her life with the passion she had before.

  Normally, she savored the sweet, nutlike taste of the Kauai plantation coffee she drank each morning, but her peace had been shattered. Why had Morgan asked the impossible of her? Kulani had come to think of Morgan as an
adopted father. He’d certainly treated her like a daughter. If not for him, for his flight to Kauai after the unthinkable accident, Kulani would have been alone in the aftermath.

  Morgan’s presence had been a balm to her during the ordeal. He’d organized the funeral, taken care of the paperwork, the police and the insurance people when she could do little else but sit in shocked, almost catatonic silence or suffer incredible storms of weeping, anger and guilt. Morgan had been there for her through it all. Oh, she’d heard of his famous care when mercenaries who worked for him at Perseus got into trouble. And Kulani had talked to more than one merc who had been blessed with Morgan’s presence during some traumatic event. But she had never expected Morgan to be there for her as he had.

  Closing her eyes momentarily, Kulani took in a deep, shaky breath of air. Morgan had helped her piece her life back together after that tragic day. He’d put her on leave with full pay. He got Dr. Ann Parsons, a flight surgeon and psychiatrist, to fly over to Kauai and help Kulani through the worst of her grief. When all was said and done, Kulani could not force herself to go back to work—at least, not the type of work she’d done before.

  She’d flown to Montana, to that little mining town nestled deep in the Rocky Mountains where Morgan made a life for himself and his growing family. Save for her father, she’d rarely seen such family devotion in a man, as she saw in Morgan. And it was then that she began to realize she was like family to Morgan and not just an employee, another cog in the wheel of Perseus. She and Morgan had sat deep underground, in the war room of his facility, and talked. She knew he was a terribly busy man, yet on that afternoon he acted as if she were the only focus he had in his complex and pressing world. Laura, his wife, was pregnant with the twins back then and she had gone into labor the day Kulani was there. The call from the midwife came in just as she and Morgan were finishing their meeting.