Hostage At Hawk's Landing

Had his father seen the news about Chrissy’s body being found, and been driven over the edge by grief?

Dammit, there was nothing he could do to bring his father back. But in his search for answers, he’d stumbled on another mystery.

Even if his father’s death wasn’t connected to the other missing men, Dex was determined to make sure a predator wasn’t taking advantage of these homeless men when they were already down. If nothing else, he’d find the truth in honor of his father.

A newscast broke into the country music on the radio as he headed toward the small apartment he rented over his PI office in Austin.

“This late breaking story just in. A man was shot and killed tonight at the Lend-A-Hand Shelter outside Austin. Assistant Director Melissa Gentry stated that a gunman broke into the facility just as the shelter was locking up for the night and held her at gunpoint. According to Ms. Gentry, one of the men at the shelter jumped the gunman to defend her, and the gun went off. The gunman died on-site, then the other man disappeared.”

Dex’s heart pounded. Melissa Gentry. Her name was a blast from the past. A blast of happy memories and a time when he’d allowed himself to enjoy the company of a good woman. Although when he’d found himself falling in love with her, he’d broken it off. Well, technically he hadn’t exactly done that. He’d walked away like a coward.

Maybe he was like his old man...

Melissa was sweetness and kindness and way too damn good for the likes of him.

He’d known that she’d wanted to be a social worker, so hearing about her job at Lend-A-Hand fit.

The reporter segued to another story, and he veered to the side of the road, plugged the name Lend-A-Hand Shelter into his GPS, then pulled back into traffic and drove toward it.

The thought of a man holding a gun to Melissa made his blood turn cold. He wanted to see for himself that she wasn’t harmed. And if she knew anything about the other missing transient men.

If someone was targeting them, tonight’s shooting might be connected.

* * *

MELISSA WAS STILL trembling as the police roped off the shelter as a crime scene. Detective Frank Lamar from the Austin PD was in charge, delegating a female cop named Nikki Whalen to question the men at the shelter. Melissa could barely control her anger. These men had fallen on hard times, yet now they were being treated as suspects.

She’d given her statement. Told the truth. Assured the detective that none of the other men were involved in the shooting incident, but he’d quickly silenced her with a warning to let him do his job.

Questions about Jim Smith needled her. If he wasn’t hiding from the law, why had he run?

A noise from the front door jarred her from her thoughts. Detective Lamar strode to the door to speak to the officer in charge of securing the scene.

“What’s going on, Frank?”

Melissa paused to listen. A male voice. Angry? Concerned?

“I want to talk to Melissa.”

Melissa tensed. The man...his voice sounded familiar. She hadn’t heard it in ages, but...it sounded like Dexter Hawk.

“This is a crime scene. I can’t let you come in,” Detective Lamar said bluntly.

Melissa hurried to the door and nudged up beside the stocky cop. He was about her height, but his voice and demeanor were intimidating. By design, probably.

“Melissa?”

Her heart pounded. It was Dexter.

“Dex?”

The cop looked back and forth between them, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. “You two know each other?”

“Yes,” they said at the same time.

“Well, hell.” The cop scraped a hand down his chin.

Dex took a step forward. “Lamar, you know I’ve been investigating the missing transients since we found my father. This incident could be related.”

“It’s not,” the detective said brusquely. “You saw Dr. Hudson’s autopsy report. Your father’s death was an accident, Dex. Accept it and move on.”

“I wish we could have used Dr. Weinberger from Tumbleweed,” Dex said. “I know him and trust him.”

“Hudson is a good ME,” Lamar said.

Melissa twisted her hands by her sides. Apparently Dex and this detective knew each other, too. PI to cop, or were they friends?

“Go home, Dex, and let me handle this,” Detective Lamar said.

Melissa made a snap decision. She hadn’t seen Dex in almost ten years. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was about his father. To ask him why he thought his father’s death, the missing transients and the shooting might be connected.

“Excuse me, Detective,” she said, giving the cop a gentle push as she reached for the door. “I need some air.”

He started to protest, but she slanted him an icy look. Ever since he’d arrived at the shelter, he’d made her and the residents feel as if they’d done something wrong. “You can’t make me stay inside,” she said simply. “Not unless you’re going to charge me with something.”

The man’s thick lips pressed into a tight line. A breath laced with the foul scent of cigarettes wheezed out, then he stepped aside. “Just don’t leave the county without telling me,” he said. “I might need to ask you some more questions.”

She gave a quick nod, then pushed past him and out the door. The odor of blood and death inside the shelter was making her nauseous.

She quickly dragged in a breath, then looked up to see Dex’s handsome face. Worry darkened the depths of his eyes as he gently took her arm and led her down the steps to a cluster of trees. She was still shaking so badly that her legs nearly buckled.

“Ahh, Melissa.” A second later, Dexter pulled her up against him, and she leaned her head into his chest.

* * *

DEXTER WRAPPED HIS arms around Melissa, his heart racing. Although he hadn’t seen her in years, he’d never forgotten how wonderful she felt in his arms. He stroked her back, and inhaled the fragrance of rosewater, the fragrance that had taunted him in his sleep every day since they’d parted ways.

His nights had been filled with dreams of her to the point that he’d thought he’d never get over her.

She clung to his chest, her shaky breathing doing a number on his emotions.

Maybe he hadn’t gotten over her. He sure as hell hadn’t let any other woman in his life or heart since. No...he’d been too damn afraid of loving to put himself out there and chance getting hurt. Watching the heartbreak his mother had suffered when his father left had taught him a lesson.

He hadn’t deserved Melissa anyway. Not after he’d told his sister to get lost that night. And then she had. Forever.

Still, he couldn’t help himself. He rubbed Melissa’s back again, savoring the feel of her in his arms for another minute. She was alive. She appeared unharmed, at least physically.

Time to do his job and talk. Not lose himself traipsing down memory lane.

“You okay, darlin’?”

She nodded against him and gave a deep sigh. “Thanks.” She patted his chest, then eased from his embrace and lifted her chin. “Sorry.”

“No apologies,” he murmured, his chest squeezing with emotions again. Damn, she had that effect on him. The thought of anyone hurting her made him want to pound something.

He swallowed hard, forcing his mind back on track and his eyes away from her beautiful face. The sight of that unruly dark auburn hair that had driven him mad when he’d run his fingers through it taunted him to touch it again.

He had to resist.

“I saw the story about your father. I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Dexter ground his teeth, the pain back. “I want answers,” he said honestly.

“He died in an automobile accident?”

He nodded. Thankfully, the paper hadn’t revealed that he was inebriated at the time. “I found a card from another homeless shelter in his truck.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, a frown marring her heart-shaped face. “He was living in a shelter?”

“I don’t know,” Dexter said. “But I’ve been visiting some of them to see if anyone knew him. I’m curious as to what he was doing all this time.” And why he never came back.

Lamar’s voice as he spoke to the officer guarding the scene echoed from the front stoop, jerking Dex back to the reason he’d come.

“You were involved in a shooting tonight?” Dex asked.

Her face paled, and she wrapped her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together. He wanted to draw her back into his arms.

But if he did, he might never let go.

Something he’d have to do. He’d walked away from her before because she deserved better.

She still did.

Chapter Three

Melissa rubbed her arms to erase the chill invading her. Dex’s warm embrace reminded her of feelings that had never really gone away.

Dex exhaled. “What happened here?”

“We were locking up for the night when this man burst in the back door. He had a gun and grabbed me, said he wanted Jim Smith.”

“Did he say why?” Dex asked.

She shook her head. “No, it happened really fast. He pushed me toward the common room, then Jim appeared. Jim offered to trade himself for me, then the gunman told Jim to tie me up. He tossed him a rope. Smith grabbed the rope, then charged the man with the gun.”

Detective Lamar stepped outside, his voice carrying in the slight breeze that stirred. “I want an APB out on this man. Name is Jim Smith. Approach with caution. He’s already killed one man tonight, and is armed and dangerous.”

Melissa tensed at the detective’s tone. She crossed the space to him as he hung up. “Detective Lamar,” she said. “Jim isn’t dangerous, at least not in the way you’re suggesting. He acted in self-defense. He wasn’t armed when he came here.”

Dexter had followed her over to the cop, his arms crossed as he listened.

“How do you know Smith didn’t have a gun?” the detective asked. “Did you search his belongings?”

“Well, no,” Melissa admitted. “But I didn’t see any signs of a weapon. In fact, he was almost gentle at times. He tried to talk the gunman down, then he wrestled with the man and the gun went off.” Her voice cracked as the memory returned. “He was a hero, not the enemy. He saved my life.” And she wanted to thank him for it, not see him hunted down like an animal.

“You certainly are defensive of him.” The detective narrowed his eyes. “Exactly how well did you know Mr. Smith?”

Anger shot through Melissa at the insinuations in the cop’s voice. “He was a welcome guest here just like all of the other men who seek housing with us at Lend-A-Hand.”

“What was his story?” Detective Lamar asked. “Did he have a family?”

Melissa bit the corner of her lip, a habit she had when thinking. “I don’t know. He’d only been here a couple of days and didn’t share much about himself.”

“What did he share?” the detective asked.

Melissa searched her memory banks. “Nothing really. He was quiet, and kept to himself. But he was always polite at mealtimes and respectful of the other men and our volunteers.”

“So you’re defending a man you know virtually nothing about,” Detective Lamar said flatly. “His name sounds fake. He could be a criminal hiding out.”

She had considered that. “I don’t think that’s the case.”

Detective Lamar raised a brow. “What do you think?”

Dex cleared his throat. “Lamar, why don’t you lay off? Melissa told you all she knows. It’s her job to help the men who come here, not interrogate them.”

Officer Whalen, who’d been questioning the men inside, stepped to the door. “I’m finished here.”

The detective shrugged. “You get anything useful?”

Officer Whalen shook her head. “No one seemed to know anything about Smith. General consensus was that he didn’t want to talk. One guy thought Smith was hiding something. Another said Smith hinted that he didn’t have family. But Smith didn’t elaborate so we don’t know if he was married, divorced, had kids, or if he did, what happened to them.”

“What about a job?” Detective Lamar asked.

The officer shook her head. “Didn’t mention one.”

The detective turned back to Melissa. “Did he tell you what kind of work he did?”

He’d thrown that rope lasso-style, like a pro. Maybe ranching? Then again, most men in Texas knew how to rope and ride. “I’m afraid not.” She lifted her chin. “Instead of investigating Smith, why aren’t you looking into the dead man on the floor in the shelter? He’s the one who broke in here and put a gun to my head.”

* * *

DEX COULDN’T DRAG his eyes from Melissa and that tangled mass of hair. She had a heart of gold. But was she naive? Was Smith a criminal, using the shelter to hide from the law? Or...perhaps he was in trouble and the gunman was a bad guy chasing him?

Various scenarios bombarded him. Smith might have owed the man or someone else money. The shooter could have had a personal vendetta against Smith for some transgression against him.

“Listen to me, Ms. Gentry,” Lamar said. “We have to close down the shelter until we’re finished processing it. The men staying here will have to leave, at least temporarily.”

Melissa’s eyes flickered with unease. “How long will we have to be closed?”

“I can’t say for sure. I’ll let you know when we release the space and you can use it again. Meanwhile, I’ll have Officer Whalen escort the men outside.”

Lamar went to speak to Whalen, and Dex gave Melissa an understanding look. Knowing Melissa, she’d worry about the men they’d have to turn away.

“If you find a place for the men to stay tonight, I’ll provide transportation,” he offered.

Melissa’s look of gratitude suggested he’d read her correctly. She was more concerned about Smith and the men at the shelter than she was about herself. “Thanks, Dex. I will do that. I don’t like the idea of putting anyone out when it’s so hot.”

Melissa removed her phone from the pocket of her jeans and stepped aside to make a phone call.

Lamar walked back to him, his expression grim.

“Don’t you think you were a little hard on her?” Dex asked, annoyed at his friend.

“I’m just doing my job.” Lamar grunted. “How do you know her?”

Dex didn’t intend to share details of their relationship. “We met in college.”

“I didn’t think you went to college,” Lamar said.

Dex gritted his teeth. He had gone but not finished. Brayden was definitely the most educated of the Hawk men. Still, he loved his work. “I did, but just one semester. College wasn’t for me. I did take business classes at a local school though before I hung my shingle.”

Lamar worked his mouth from side to side. “I take it you and Ms. Gentry were...involved?”

Dex shrugged. “It was a long time ago. But I can vouch for her. Melissa’s the most honest, caring person I’ve ever met.”

“Caring enough that she’d cover for Smith?”

“You heard her story,” Dex said. “You can believe her.” He gestured toward the inside of the shelter. “Dr. Hudson in there?”

Lamar nodded. “They should be bringing the man’s body outside to transport to the morgue any minute.”

Dex shoved his hand in his pockets. “What do you know about the gunman?”

“Not much, yet. Name on his ID is Clark McTruitt.” Lamar shifted, putting his body between Dex and Melissa as if he didn’t want her to overhear what he had to say. “He had a PI license on him, Dex.”

A tense minute passed. “He was a PI? Where?” He would recognize his name if he worked out of Austin.

“Amarillo.” The door opened and two medics carried a stretcher with McTruitt’s body encased in a body bag on it. “He obviously had reason to come after Smith,” Lamar said. “Finding out more about Smith is key.”

Dex agreed with him on that. “I’ll go to McTruitt’s office and see what I can dig up.”

Lamar’s deep frown of disapproval coincided with a firm shake of his head. “Listen, Dex, this is a homicide investigation. I have to play it by the book.” He slanted him a warning look. “If I need you, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, go home and be with your family, and let me do my job.”

Dex clenched his jaw as Melissa strode toward the homeless men being escorted from the shelter. She could have died tonight.

That thought sent fear crawling through him. He didn’t give a damn what Lamar said.

There was no way he could walk away without answers.

* * *

MELISSA DIDN’T KNOW why the detective rubbed her the wrong way, but he did. She had been defensive of Jim Smith, but rightfully so. Although she had wondered about his past and what he was hiding from, he’d saved her life and she owed him.

She phoned her friend at Another Chance Shelter about forty miles away and explained the situation. The volunteer had enough beds open for the men to stay with them for a few nights if needed.

Several of the men went their own way, although three agreed to move to another facility.

She had a soft spot for Gunther and was glad he accepted the offer. He’d had a hard life. Had been injured in the Gulf War. With a bad leg and PTSD, he’d lost his job when he’d become addicted to pain meds. And he had no family.

An awkward silence filled the car as Dex drove them to the shelter. When they arrived, he parked, climbed out and met her at the passenger side. The men congregated a few feet away, the night taking its toll in the way they spoke in hushed tones about what had happened with the gunman.

“Wait here while I introduce them to the volunteers,” Melissa told Dex.

Dex hesitated, shifting on the balls of his feet. “Actually, I wanted to go with you, ask if anyone in there knew my father.”

He removed a photo from his wallet. She’d expected to see the picture he’d shown her when they’d met in college, but this photo was of an older man, the one he must have buried.

“Did you ever meet him?” Dex asked.

The pain in his voice ripped at her heartstrings and reminded her that Dex had been lost when they’d first met. She’d wanted to save him, but later realized she couldn’t save everyone. She’d learned that with her own father when he’d died with one hand around the bottle, the other holding a pistol.

He hadn’t cared enough about her to stick around. That had hurt the most.

Water under the bridge.

She had to move on, do what she could to help others.

She studied the photo, mentally tapping into the decade of homeless men she’d met on the streets or in various shelters, but she didn’t recognize the one in the picture. “I’m sorry, Dex, but I don’t recall seeing him anywhere.” She squeezed his hand, a warmth stirring inside her that triggered emotions she’d once felt for this strong, hurting man.

Dexter clenched his jaw. “All right. But I’d like to ask inside.”

She nodded in understanding.

Sadly, she’d heard similar stories from other families before. One family member left, leaving the others full of questions, pain and guilt. God knows she’d had her share of that over her own situation.

It was a complicated problem and could only be dealt with one family at a time.

Heartbreak City, if she let herself get too involved. The reason she needed to keep her distance from Dex. She had her own demons to slay.

And she’d barely survived the first time he’d left her.

She didn’t want to revisit that kind of pain again.

* * *

DEX JAMMED HIS hands in his pockets. A faint breeze stirred, bringing the scent of cigarette smoke and the hushed voices of the homeless men.

Melissa rolled her shoulders, fatigue showing on her face. “Let’s get the men settled.”

She texted her friend that she’d arrived, and he followed her to the door. A few minutes later, the men accepted cots in the back of the shelter, and she and Dex stood talking to Edgar, the volunteer.

“I heard what happened,” Edgar said with a worried look. “I’m so sorry, Melissa. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Melissa said. “But it’s a reminder of how quickly someone can break in.”

Dex showed Edgar the recent photograph of his father and another shot of him around the time he’d disappeared.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Edgar said. “But he hasn’t been here.”

“You’re sure?” Dex asked.

“Edgar has a near photographic memory,” Melissa said.

Dexter eyed the man. He was late forties, wore big chunky brown glasses, had a wide nose and a missing front tooth. The way he picked at his fingernails indicated nerves, maybe a habit from living a hard life himself. Everyone had a story.

He just wanted to know what his father’s was.

Melissa lapsed into silence as he drove her back to Lend-A-Hand. When they reached the facility, she snagged her keys from her purse. “Thanks for driving us to Another Chance.”

“No problem.” He spotted a beat-up minivan in the parking lot and guessed it was hers. Melissa had never valued material things. “I’ll follow you home,” he offered.

“That’s not necessary.” Her voice took on a stiff ring.

He knew she was shaken, but he wasn’t ready to let her out of his sight. “Melissa, you could have been hurt tonight.” Killed, but he couldn’t allow himself to voice that awful thought aloud. “I’ll see that you get home safely, so don’t argue.”

Melissa rubbed a hand over her eyes. She was obviously so exhausted she simply nodded and slipped from his SUV. Just as he thought, the beat-up minivan belonged to her.

She jammed her keys in the ignition, the engine taking three tries to sputter to life.

Anger that she sacrificed so much for others mingled with worry that she might have died doing just that.

She deserved so much better. To have diamonds and pearls. At least a car that didn’t look as if it had been rolled twice.

He glanced back at the shelter before he pulled from the parking lot. Melissa was no doubt worried about the men she’d had to move tonight. But worry for her raged through him. He didn’t like the fact that Melissa put herself in danger by trying to help them. Tonight’s incident proved the facility wasn’t secure.

The thought of losing her bothered him more than he wanted to admit as he followed her through the streets of Austin. His gut tightened when she veered into an area consisting of transitional homes. A couple had been remodeled, but most looked as if they were teardowns. The street was not in the best part of town, either, and was known for shady activities, including drug rings and gangs.

Her house was a tiny bungalow with a sagging little porch and paint-chipped shutters, and sat next to a rotting shanty where two guys in hoodies hovered by the side porch, heads bent in hushed conversation as if they might be in the middle of a drug deal.

He gritted his teeth as he parked and walked up the graveled path to the front porch. She paused, her key in hand. A handcrafted wreath said Welcome Home, which for some reason twisted his gut even more.

Melissa had never had a real home, while he’d grown up on the ranch with family and brothers and open land.

She offered him a small smile. “Thanks for following me, Dex.”

“I’ll go in and check the house,” he said, itching to make sure that at least her windows and doors were secure. From his vantage point now, it looked as if a stiff wind would blow the house down.

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary, but I appreciate it.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”

She opened the door and ducked inside without another word and without looking back. An image of her crawling into bed in that lonely old house taunted him.

He wanted to join her. Hold her. Make sure she was all right tonight.

But that would be risky for him.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in danger as he walked back to his SUV.

Chapter Four

Melissa closed the door, shutting Dex outside and hoping he left immediately. She had come close to allowing him to come in. But if she had, she might have asked him to stay all night.