Shadow Hawk
Later that night
Twenty–five miles outside of Bullet City, Wyoming
ABBY ENTERED THE COMMUNICATIONS van, and the
men stopped talking. Typical. Men complained that women were the difficult gender, but it seemed to her the penis–carrying half were far more thorny.
Not to mention downright problematic.
Not that she cared, because when it came to personal relationships, she'd given them up. A fact that made her life much simpler.
Sliding the door shut behind her, she shivered. Late fall in the high altitude Bighorn Mountains meant that razor–sharp air cut right through her, layers and all. As she rubbed her frozen hands together, her gaze inadvertently locked on Hawk, who had his long–sleeved black shirt open and the matching T–shirt beneath it shoved up so that he could get wired.
He stood there, six feet two inches of solid badass complete with a wicked, mischievous grin, topped with warm, chocolate eyes that could melt or freeze on a dime. From beneath the sleeve of his T–shirt peeked the very edge of the tattoo on his bicep, which she knew was a hawk.
The women in the o ... read full excerpt from: Shadow Hawk ebook
