Chapter One

Greek God of Erebus—“The personification of darkness and shadow”

The job was supposed to be simple.

But it turned out to be a fuckin’ nightmare.

Hawk sat in the dark with his back against the concrete wall and studied the line of homeless tents that stretched as far as the eye could see. His focus was on a row that sat deep within the homeless community of San Diego. It was almost rhythmic watching the people mill about, sorting through findings or huddled around burning canisters. The fire sent smoke up into the air in slow curling tendrils, and the smell of charred paper and melted plastic mixed with singed clothing drifted on the slight southern breeze.

Normally, Hawk would have done the hit at night, but it had proven fuckin’ impossible, because his mark had sat so far tucked inside the homeless community that he couldn’t get a bead on the guy, so here he was back in the daytime.

This one last job had turned into a month-long recon.

The coined phrase, “I’m too old for this shit,” came to mind and he snorted under his breath and situated his ass against the hard concrete of the retaining wall. Thankful for the heavy jeans protecting his ass and the worn boots and a black hoodie all designed so he fit in.

Fitting in around there wasn’t a problem for him even with his height and size. In fact, he’d seen several other men with the same bulk. And his mark also fit into the filth and stench, Hawk should have been able to get close. Only, he hadn’t been able to, and finding the guy became a game of cat and mouse in the stench-filled area.

Not that he had a problem with the homeless. Each person had to find their own way and he of all people knew that sometimes life handed you a pile of shit and the only way out was starting from the bottom up. Some people actually preferred to live on the margins of society.

Not him, though, and he thought of the shabby, rundown apartment he lived in with its bare walls and faded carpet.

One last job and he was out of there with enough money to last a lifetime living in the sun on a remote beach some-fuckin’-where.

They’d tried to decorate for the season with smatterings of garland and rummaged decorations that seemed to fit more for Christmas than the upcoming turkey day. The tattered arrangements looked worse for the wear, but it did give the area a bit of a cheery glow. What a fucked up way to spend any holiday. Oh, not for him, but for the people below. The ones who wouldn’t sit down at a table filled with food and gaze across at loved ones.

He grimaced and rubbed at the ache in his shoulder. He hadn’t had a holiday like that since he’d been a boy. With Halloween just last week, people would be preparing for Thanksgiving, then Christmas, all followed up with a happy fucking New Year.

“There he is.”

The old man sitting nearby hissed, yanking him from his thoughts, and pointed a gnarled finger in the direction of the cluster of bigger tents. A twenty-dollar bill and what was left of a fifth of whiskey had bought the old man’s help sorting through the mass of people.

Hawk zeroed in on his mark and gave the grizzled old guy a slow nod before he shoved to his feet.

“Bring me back some!” the man hissed, thinking Hawk was after drugs.

He’d never indulged in the shit himself. Not after his younger brother had overdosed and died at the age of twelve. If Rick had lived, he’d be forty by now.

Shaking off thoughts of his past—because fuck if that was productive—he picked his way through the trash and people and moved closer to the figure in the distance.

His mark was tall, but on the thinner side like a good wind would blow him over. He was stooped over a canister tossing trash into the flickering flames.

The guy was oblivious to his surroundings and had no idea Hawk was walking toward him.

The slender man had no idea that death had come calling.

Hawk was so focused on the guy that his foot kicked a can, bringing the man’s head up and around to him.

Hawk froze.

Eyes the color of a summer sky caught and held his and blond hair fell out from beneath the gray beanie cap, curling softly.

Like a fuckin’ halo.

And for the life of him, Hawk couldn’t look away. He tightened his hand around the garrote in his pocket, but he couldn’t pull it and he wouldn’t pull it. He never killed with an audience when he could help it.

Sometimes, the client wanted a spectacle. Usually, Hawk never took those jobs.

This job had been no different and he got to choose his own method of dispatching his mark and that was a plus. Of course, the one million dollars to end a life any way he preferred was a bonus. Hawk took pride in cleaning up the scum of the earth one soul at a time and if that sent him to fuckin’ hell, then so be it—he’d always wanted to meet the devil.

“Hey.”

That softly spoken greeting had his throat growing tight.

What the ever-loving fuck?

Skylar Thomas’ voice was soft and throaty, and that was when Hawk got a good look at his face. Christ, he was late to the party because he’d been so fucking focused on the guy’s eyes.

The picture he’d earlier memorized of his mark didn’t do the young man justice. In person, this twenty-seven-year-old mark could have stepped out of one of those prime-time television series on TV, the ones with the sexy-as-fuck young actors.

Shuffling forward, Hawk gave a slow nod and edged closer to the canister, searching for the source of the warmth.

It was then that he realized the heat came not from the fire, but from his own response to the young man standing a few feet away.

Well, shit.

Hawk didn’t want to kill this kid.

Maybe the guy was lost, Sky thought. Although, he didn’t look like it. He looked like a cop. Well, kinda… except for his boots. The black leather was scuffed and his beard wasn’t as clean cut as the local PD, but rather thick and it made Sky want to touch it. He had always had an attraction to big, rough-looking men and this guy punched all of his buttons or bells. Maybe both, if he was honest.

He waited, though, not wanting to be the one to initiate conversation past the first greeting. It was a game, really. He would wait for whoever came to talk and then he’d mimic their speech and mannerisms. It was a technique he’d learned early in life. Act like the crowd that surrounded you and maybe, just maybe, one day he’d find he fit in. Out here, though, he did it for a completely different reason. Out here, if he stood out too much, he could get dead. Roaming his eyes over the drifter’s face, he found himself again focused on the man’s unshaven face and lips.

“You live out here?” Hawk asked gruffly, anything to take the kid’s focus off his mouth. “Or just come for the nightlife?”

Sky laughed.

The husky sound sent Hawk’s stomach jumping. Ah, hell. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and rocked a bit in his boots.

“No. Well, kinda?” Sky didn’t seem too sure. “I just needed a place to disappear.”

Hawk looked around and then nodded. “Seems like a good place for that.” He scratched at the hair growing on his jaw. “Although, not too safe.” The weariness that suddenly grew in the kid’s eyes had Hawk silently cursing.

“Not me.” Hawk added a light snort to his words and then pulled a hand from his pocket to wave slightly around.

“Ah.” Sky gave a brief chuckle but edged away just in case. “Yeah, I have to sleep with one eye open.” Sky waited another moment and then pressed a hand to his own chest. “I’m Sky.”

I know—almost came out of Hawk’s mouth, but he bit it back in time. “Hawk.”

“Cool name.”

“Yours too.”

“Could almost be code names,” Sky mumbled.

“Almost.” Hawk agreed with a slight smile. “Mine is short for Hawkeye.”

“Skylar, but just call me Sky.”

“Well, Sky, are there any open spots around here?” Hawk made a pass over the area and took in the array of faded and torn tents plus erected hole-riddled tarps and whatever they could find to keep the structures together on the dusty area that he was sure at one time had grown grass.

“Not really,” Sky murmured, waving toward a space not too far from them. “There’s a piece of vacant cardboard by me. I keep it there so others think someone is with me.”

“What happens when nobody shows up?”

“The locals know I’m alone. The cardboard is so that strangers think I have a partner and don’t get any ideas.”

“Ah. Well, then I’ll leave you to it.” Hawk held out his hands to the dying flames in the large rusted barrel.

“Nah, it’s okay. You can crash out there.”

“I’m a stranger.”

“I know your name.”

Sky was too fucking trusting for Hawk and he clenched his teeth. The thought of this slender young thing sleeping out there unprotected made him want to… to fucking what?

His life was complicated enough as it was without trying to help a broken baby bird. Besides, he knew for a fact that Sky had a set of self-protection skills, so the young man wasn’t all that vulnerable. But Sky certainly wasn’t up to his caliber when it came to combat abilities.

“You don’t know me, though,” he said, putting a warning growl in his tone.

Sky didn’t seem as fazed as he’d been earlier in their conversation and flashed him a quick smile, showing even, white teeth.

“I sleep with one eye open, remember?”

Hawk wasn’t happy with the reminder.

But he swallowed back his response.