The Hunter

by Low, Gennita

• ISBN13: 9780060591236
• ISBN10: 0060591234
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2005-01-01
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publications

Summary

From the talented pen of Gennita Low comes the second instalment in her exciting Navy SEALS trilogy. Hawk McMillan, SEAL commander, is on a lone mission. To get close to Dragan Dilaver, a Kosovo kingpin involved in drugs and arms-trafficking, Hawk helped him escape from Asia and return to his former country of Yugoslavia. Now Hawk has to discover where certain weapons have been dropped for Dilaver over the diverse regions of Montenegro, Macedonia and Albania -- not an easy task for someone unfamiliar with the territory. In order for the operation to succeed, he needs a tracker and the only available person is CIA contact agent Amber Hutchens. Beautiful and smart, Amber has made a life for herself in Velesta, Macedonia and she is more than capable of assisting Hawk in finding the cache of hidden weapons. Despite the danger of exposure and torture, they risk everything in their mission to strike down Dilaver and his ruthless gang -- even their love.

Excerpts

The Hunter

Chapter One

Velesta, Macedonia

Hrana. A zena.

There were two universal truths when it came to man andhis manhood. Both had to do with hunger. And when a manwas hungry for both food and woman, he tended to expend alot of energy in search of getting what he needed. Not justany kind of food. Or woman.

Ja sam gladna.

Hawk opened his eyes. Meditation worked. But not whenone was hungry.

He had discovered that he enjoyed meditating -- it slowedthe heart down and helped to put things into perspective.And allowed him to keep his cool while living against hiscode of values for two months. Of course, knowing that anyslight betrayal of the truth would put a bullet in his headhelped the transition.

But still, his lessons in meditation had pulled himthrough a few tough moments. He had seen his share of horrorin his time -- in bloody battles and their aftermath -- buthe had always been on the "good" side, if one could call war good. This time, he had to play a part, and he had towatch the horror and filth of crimes being committed infront of him without being able to do anything about them.He couldn't stop them . . . and it sickened him at nightwhen he lay in bed, with images of girls being raped andused like toilet paper.

He couldn't stop them. And so he had used his newtraining -- meditation. For the first time in his life as a SEAL,he had to start learning a new weapon that had nothing to dowith aiming and shooting.

But Hawk was hungry. He wanted real food. A big thickhamburger dripping with juice, everything on top, the kindthat squished out in a mess when one had his mouth aroundit. He didn't want the generic Mickey D's that were in everycorner of the world, with their cardboard taste and thin meatpatties. He wanted the real thing, down-home cooking,grilled to perfection the way only a man knew how. Goodold American hrana.

So far, there was none in Velesta, Macedonia.

And he wanted a real woman. Not these half-pints paradingin front of grown men in darkened kafenas -- or "fashionhouses" -- as they were called here. Not females with brutalizedeyes that looked older than their real age.

He hungered for a real woman who hadn't been shared bya dozen men a night, who hadn't been kidnapped or trickedinto slavery, and who wasn't looking for a husband to get outof her situation. So far, in the limited world he had beenshuffled through in this, the most notorious crime city in Europe,there were none.

Hawk uncurled from the lotus position. He stretched hislegs, scooting forward on the soft featherbed until his feetfound the thinly carpeted floor. He got up and strode to thehuge antique window, unconcerned that anyone wouldglance up and see his naked form looking down on them. It was snowing outside. Who would be out there in thisweather?

And who would be thinking of hot hamburger meat on agrill? He gave a short bark of laughter. He was used to theharshest of conditions under which to operate. His traininghad assured him of that. He'd gone from extreme heat to thisearly winter clime in a space of a few months; he missed thesticky sweaty conditions of jungle warfare, but he'd anticipatedthe change of venue to Velesta, and he had been mentallyprepared.

Tough SEAL. Top covert operative. The local kingpin'snewest best friend. Money, drugs, and women handed to himon a platter. And all he really wanted right now was a thickflavorful piece of ground beef between a sesame bun. And areal woman. He laughed again. He was getting a hard-onwhile thinking about meat. Pathetic.

He looked outside at the first snowstorm of the year. Thesnow was falling down fast and silently. An early surprise toeven the locals. The weather forecasters had made jokesabout global warming on the news tonight, saying that Godand scientists had forgotten about Macedonia. His lipstwisted. They didn't know how close to the truth they were.

If there were different levels of hell, he was in one of thehidden ones. He preferred the war zone to this -- a placewhere the devils were running the show and appeared to bewinning. At least from where he stood.

A whoosh and a thud. Hawk turned quickly, sidesteppingthe shadowy figure's attack. He swung up, jamming the opponent'shand against the wall. The intruder was wearingblack and the material felt cold and damp, indicating that hehad come from outside.

Surprisingly nimble, his attacker dodged Hawk's otherhand, countering with a kick aimed for his privates. Hawktwisted, but he didn't release the captive hand, even when the kick connected with the side of his thigh. He yanked thearm hard, swung the attacker's body over his shoulder ontothe floor, trapping him beneath his own body.

A sharp stabbing pain hit Hawk on the chest. He grunted,reaching up with his free hand to pull the weapon out. It wasa hypodermic needle; he could feel the drug's immediate effecteven as he grasped the stranger's wrist, bending it back.A pair of legs wrapped around his waist like a steel vise,stopping him from pulling away from the needle. Ignoringthe floating sensation rising like thick fog, Hawk tried topress down on the nerve in the wrist, but the other man heldon to the needle determinedly, pushing in the plunger. Hawkreleased the imprisoned hand and reached for the man'sthroat. Break his neck. That was his . . . only . . . hope. . . .

The Hunter. Copyright © by Gennita Low. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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Excerpted from The Hunter by Gennita Low
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