Hawk (A Stepbrother Romance #3)(50)

"Keep going until I tell you, then pull off."

I nod, and drive, glancing at Hawk. We've gone almost half a mile further when he taps my shoulder and I pull the car off the road into a cut out in the corn next to the road, driving almost to the edge so the car won't be visible. I turn everything off and we're bathed in black.

"Give it a minute for our eyes to adjust."

I nod, watching the world slowly paint itself back into being in silver tones. There are so many stars out here, a star field so vibrant and alive it's like the sky is on fire. It's the only light this far out. We're in Amish country now, the only man-made lights are the yellow glow of lamps on the farm back there and the far distant lights of Paradise Falls, like a hint of a sunrise. Far in the distance, the red warning lights on the bridge towers blink-blink, blink-blink, and the yellow cables glow bright in the night. Hawk opens his door and steps out.

When I rise from mine, he takes my hand. His hand his huge, mine disappearing in his grip, and his skin is rough, calloused, like hard and well worn leather. It's funny how I feel when he clasps my hand. He makes me feel soft, if that makes any sense at all.

"Stay close."

I nod, though I'm not sure how well he can see me.

Like a hawk, probably. Ha, ha.

He almost pulls me along as we walk. I plant my feet carefully, trying to avoid a rut or a dip in the side of the road as the lights bob closer with every step. It's an Amish farm, all right. A big one. A massive farmhouse stands well away from the road, and there are stables, a barn nearly as big as the house itself, and more outbuildings.

Not a single strand of wire moves between them, and the only light comes from lamps and candles, and there's not much of that. We draw near to wear Tom turned off and Hawk stops, squeezing my hand. He searches through something, then finds a narrow track in the corn.

I move through, wincing as corn stalk leaves scrape over my skin. As we get closer, I hear a distinct, rhythmic chugging noise. Hawk must hear it too, he stops and his jaw clenches as he listens. He nods and pulls me along, turning so we step out of the corn, away from the entrance to the barn.

There's something off.

"Look at the lights," I whisper.

There's something bright in the barn, the light slipping through knife-thin gaps in the wooden walls and crawling out from under the ends of the planks, along the ground. More in gaps under the roof. The whole inside must be brightly lit. Hawk swings wide around it, pulling me with him. The rhythmic noise only grows louder as we get closer.

It sounds like an engine.

Hawk crouches behind the barn, and I slip down beside him. He presses his face close to the wood and pulls back sharply.

"Look."

He shuffles aside and I peer through the gap in the boards.

I, uh, wasn't expecting that.

It looks like a science lab, not a barn. They even have those black-topped tables, like the science labs where I did my undergraduate work. There must be two dozen people inside, all dressed like Amish, except they’re wearing gas masks and hoods over their heads. The chugging is from what I think is a really big diesel generator, wired up to bright halogen lights that make the inside of the barn bright as day.

There's a really strong chemical smell, too. Vats of chemicals, the whole works. Tom is standing at the front of the barn, talking with the guy he met earlier today-Eli. I can't hear anything they say, their words drowned out by the generator. Tom appears pleased with himself, smiling a Cheshire cat smile while Eli, the man he met this morning, talks, holding his suspenders in his hands like he's in a Norman Rockwell painting.

The two move through the barn doors and outside, and I pull back and glance at Hawk. He nods at me and I tip my chin in the direction they were headed, and we work around the barn.

"Impressive facility," Tom's voice drifts across the open space between the outbuildings. "This is a large operation."

"We've been supplying to the Leviathans for over a year now, since their previous connection was shut down."

"Now you’ll supply my business partners. You'll need more facilities like this, one operation isn't going to be enough."

"What are they making?" I whisper, to Hawk.

"Methamphetamine, I think," he murmurs. "Stay low, and stay quiet."

Something scuffs behind me. A long shadow passes along the dirt, following the way we came alongside the barn. Hawk doesn't waste a second, he grabs my arm and pulls me back, straight from the barn into the corn. The sounds of the stalks scraping are like thunder in my ears. The footsteps quicken and through the leather sharp leaves and stalks I see an Amish guy walking along with a freaking shotgun, peering into the corn. He's heading our way.

Hawk tugs my wrist, and I follow behind him as he tries to thread silently through the corn. I feel a sharp pain on my arm and suck in a breath, then see red trickling down my skin. One of the leaves cut me. Hawk veers towards the road, hunched low. I fall beside him and stop.

The Amish guy is behind us, walking through the corn. He stops, and lifts a leaf. My blood is quite black in the moonlight.

He moves with purpose, turning the shotgun to carry it pointed forward instead of across his body, stopping to sweep it around every time he steps between rows of corn. Hawk pulls me to him and ducks low as the gunman walks down between the rows, scanning, eyes sliding everywhere in the dark. He has one of those masks around his neck. He draws nearer, his every step hammering loud in my ears.