Editor's Choice Volume I - Slow summer Kisses, Kilts & kraken, Negotiating point

by Stacey Shannon, Spencer Pape Cindy, Giordano Adrienne

“Conflicted might be a better word. There’s this…thing…between us.”

  “The smoking hot kiss you mean? That thing?”

  He let out a short laugh, grateful for the levity she always brought to a situation. “Yes. That thing. Now isn’t the time, but we need to figure out what to do with it.”

  She reached to secure the strap on his vest, her gaze focused on the task. It would have been so, so easy to dip his head low and kiss her. Just feast on those lips for a while.

  “I know what I’d like to do with it. And that’s saying something because I have an iron-clad rule about not getting involved with coworkers.”

  “Yes,” Gavin said. “There’s the work issue. Technically, I’m an executive. You’re not. I’m worried about the perception.”

  “As am I. So, we agree on that.”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled and patted his cheek again. “Doesn’t make it any easier though. Go deliver that phone. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  He made his way out of the barn, passed Vic on the phone in his SUV and marched up the quiet country road where the only house to be seen was the one holding Roxann Taylor. He took a moment to center himself, to allow the warmth of the midday sun to soak him and imagined the pregnant Roxann Taylor walking out of this mess.

  Not for one second would he allow the idea of her not being freed to enter his mind. Even when he’d have doubts, he’d keep them to himself. If any member of the team felt that doubt, they were done. One little seed could destroy an entire operation.

  He reached the far end of the property and huddled behind a tree. Scanning the area, he knew Vic’s alpha team was out here somewhere, but they were hidden well. Good news in case a patrol car went by. The cornfields in the back and on either side of the property could easily hide a man. If they had to have a barricade situation, this probably wasn’t the worst place it could happen. The front of the property though didn’t offer much cover and Gavin wondered where the hell those boys had buried themselves.

  Still huddled behind the tree in case anyone decided to take a shot at him from the house, he pressed the button on the bullhorn.

  “Joe, this is Gavin Sheppard. We have disabled your phones. I’m delivering a phone that will allow you to communicate with us. We are approaching the house only to deliver the phone. I will throw it through the front window so you won’t have to come out.”

  A huge black Taylor Security SUV pulled up. Five guys dressed in full riot gear and carrying shields jumped out. All they had to do was hope a copper didn’t appear. That would be fun to explain. You see, Officer, my boss’s wife has been kidnapped and we figured law enforcement would screw it up.

  Goatfuck.

  With that, he took a breath, prayed this wouldn’t be his last voyage and stepped from behind the tree to the cover of Vic’s team and their shields. One of the men pulled a shield from the truck for him and they lined up one behind each other with Gavin in the middle. In this stacked position, shields providing protection and the steady beat of Gavin’s heart drowning all sounds inside his head, he found himself fully alert, but not panicked. When they reached the front of the house, Jessup jammed the break and rake tool through the window. Glass shattered, disrupting the quiet country air, and voices from inside streamed through the broken glass as Jessup tore the window blind out with the tool. Gavin held the shield in front of him in case some nut decided to shoot. With his free hand, he tossed the throw phone through the window.

  Gavin hustled back to the stack of men and they retreated, unwinding the cord connecting the phones as they went along.

  * * *

  When Gavin stepped into the barn a wave of relief consumed Janet. That had been a lifetime of a fifteen minutes. She’d been watching the action on the monitors to ensure Gavin’s safety, but the tension that came with his absence had nearly paralyzed her.

  She rose from her chair, walked to him and held her hand for a high-five. Unlike the last time they’d engaged in this celebratory habit, there was no prolonged touching and that suited her fine.

  She thought. No. She knew. After all, she’d once been involved with another member of Vic’s team and that hadn’t turned out so well. The sexual tension between them sizzled but intellectually, they were a dead loss.

  Dead loss.

  But, oh, how the gossip mongers had their way with her. Never again would she allow herself to be fodder for the business office’s witch twins, two women who spent every available minute battling for attention from the operatives. When word had gotten out about Janet and Duck, the twins wasted no time spreading vile nastiness about Janet sleeping her way into her job.

  “Did it go okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s see if they pick up.”

  He unloaded the bullhorn, shucked the helmet and vest and punched the button on his end of the two-way phone.

  No answer.

  What she learned about Gavin on their last assignment was he’d keep trying. The man never gave up and never gave in. How he handled the stress and the responsibility, she couldn’t fathom, but this was a man dedicated to a nonviolent ending.

  As difficult as these situations were, she found herself suited to the activity. To the challenge of it. Most of her work for Vic’s team happened behind the scenes. Sure, she was integral and probably saved their asses on many occasions, but this…this function gave her the ability to literally save someone’s life with the information she provided.

  And that was a rush.

  On a purely emotional level, she could see why Gavin had built a career on hostage negotiating. Saving a life was hero material. But losing a life, well, she didn’t want to percolate on that aspect of his job.

  She watched him fiddle with his headset before putting it on. “Why do you do this?”

  “Beats the hell out of me.”

  “Seriously? You don’t know?”

  He punched the button on the phone again and waited. No answer. “I knew from the time I was a kid I wanted to work for the FBI. The dad of one of my friends worked for the Bureau and, after my own dad died, I latched on to the guy.”

  A lump settled in Janet’s chest. “Your dad died when you were young?”

  He tried the phone again. Waited. Nothing.

  “I was thirteen and suddenly man of the house. The FBI dad was good to me. Used to take me fishing with them. He taught me a lot.”

  “Gosh, that had to be tough.”

  He finally turned to her. “It was tough on my mom. My dad had been the one to toss a baseball with me or play street hockey. She enjoyed sitting on the porch with her lemonade and watching. That life disappeared. I don’t think she ever recovered.”

  “I’m so sorry. Did she ever remarry?”

  He went back to the phone and tried again. Waited. Nothing. “Nope. She says my father was irreplaceable and she doesn’t see any point in trying.” He smiled and looked back at her, the features of his face softening. “I have to imagine she’s been lonely all these years. Hell, my wife divorced me ten years ago and there are still times when I miss having someone there when I get home. That’s only a divorce. Death? Forget it.”

  Divorced. She’d wondered. “Why did you get divorced?”

  “I loved my job more than my wife.”

  “That’s an honest answer if I ever heard one.”

  “Life with a FBI negotiator is hard. At any time I could be called away for who knew how long. We were told to always have a bag packed and in our car. The final straw came at her brother’s wedding. I got called in and had to leave. I came home from Manila two weeks later after negotiating the release of an oil company executive to find my wife had moved out.”

  “Harsh!” Janet’s voice went half an octave higher than she’d aimed for and she smacked her lips together. “Sorry, but cripes, she didn’t even tell you.”

  His lips bowed into a sagging smile. “She’d been telling me for months. I didn’t listen. Or didn’t care. I’m still not sure which. Either way,
we’re both better off. She remarried a nine-to-five guy and has a couple of kids now. She’s happy. And she deserves that.”

  He tried the phone again. No answer. “Damn. They won’t pick up.”

  But Janet was still stuck on him being okay that his wife hadn’t bothered to tell him she’d moved out while he’d been working. How could that be? When two people shared a life, how did communication break down to the point where one simply walked away without telling the other? “What do you deserve, Gavin?”

  He flopped his bottom lip out. “Not sure. I guess I need someone who understands my life. I’ve chosen this work. I can’t always control where I’ll be and when. If I ever get married again, I’ll have to make sure the person understands that.”

  He punched the button on the phone again. Waited. No answer.

  “Keep trying.” Janet wasn’t sure if she meant the phone or about finding someone who understood his life. Which, she might add, she most certainly did.

  “I never give up.”

  * * *

  After twenty minutes, someone picked up. Finally. Gavin launched from his chair and snapped his fingers. Janet slid her headset on. Her task would be to analyze and research every morsel of information the hostage taker—HT—gave them.

  “Joe?” Gavin said.

  “Yeah.”

  “This is Gavin Sheppard.”

  “What are you people doing?”

  “Well, Joe, we’re trying to resolve this situation in a peaceful manner. We want everyone out of there safely.”

  “How the hell did you find us?”

  “Joe, that doesn’t matter. Let’s stay focused here, okay? Try and fix this thing?”

  “Will my article run in the paper?”

  Gavin stared straight ahead. Above all, he always treated the HT with respect. Earning their trust would help end the standoff and that meant being honest and decent. He wouldn’t lie. Not yet, anyway. In a hostage situation, the first lie would come when he needed the HT to step in front of a window so the tactical team could get a clean shot.

  “Joe, we’ve received your article and sent it to the newspaper.”

  Perfect nonanswer.

  “What did you do to our cell phones? We need our phones.”

  “We’re trying to keep this situation under control. Look, Joe, you asked us not to call the authorities. We haven’t done that. If we handle this ourselves, we’ll all get what we want. How does that sound?”

  Step up here, pal. Between the casual, anger-free speech and constantly using his first name, he was completely priming this guy.

  “We want Jackson Spelling out of jail. He’s been wrongly convicted. He’s a great man and he’s being persecuted by our government.”

  Yeah, dumbass, because he tried to kill a judge. Gavin rolled his eyes and sat. Sometimes this job made him sick, but he had to connect with this guy. Make him think he understood his rage. “Right, Joe. I hear ya. I was with the Bureau for twelve years. Why do you think I moved to the private sector? All that bureaucratic bullshit, that’s why. The government, they want us all to be a bunch of puppets. Who needs that crap? Am I right?” He leaned back in the chair, jotted a note to himself.

  Joe stayed silent. Come on, idiot. Answer me so I can bury you.

  No answer.

  “Tell your men outside to back off. We’re leaving here.”

  Not gonna happen. If these people went mobile, they’d lose total control. And one thing Gavin never allowed was losing ground they’d already gained.

  “Joe, right now, we need to talk about getting everyone out of this mess. I’ve directed our men surrounding the property to stay put. As long as you do the same and continue talking to me, nobody gets hurt. Nobody is hurt, right?”

  “No. Nobody is hurt.”

  “Good, then we can end this thing right now. I get it, Joe. I know you want your guy freed, but I want you to do yourself a favor and walk out that front door.”

  “No.”

  A voice sounded in the background from the HT’s end, but Gavin couldn’t make it out. Then a muffling noise. Gavin motioned to Janet that Joe had placed his hand over the receiver. He made a note about the second person on the other end. Determining how many people were in that house would be his next task. Maybe he’d just lay it out there. He needed to keep this guy talking. Eventually, the boredom would wear him down and he’d give in.

  “Joe, how many people do you have in there with you?”

  The line went dead.

  Damn.

  Gavin went back to his notes. “We know there’s at least one other person. We also know he’s crapping his pants that we found them.”

  “For good reason,” Janet said. “What now?”

  “I need to keep him talking. If he’s talking, he’s not hurting Roxann. Best we can tell, he’s in charge so we’re dealing with the right person. What do we know about his family? Does he have a wife?”

  “His tax returns say he’s single but has one dependent.”

  “You got his tax returns?”

  She grinned. “I have a friend at the IRS.”

  “I love you people. Maybe he’s divorced. Or has a child from a previous relationship.”

  “He’s twenty-nine, so either one is viable. I’m working on information on the dependent. Also, Joe works at an accounting firm.”

  “We have a current address for him, right?”

  “Best that we can tell.”

  “Let’s get someone to visit his office and his house to talk to his coworkers and neighbors. I need leverage with him. Maybe he’s in a custody battle and wants to see his kid. I can use that.”

  Gavin tried the phone again.

  Come on, Joe, pick up. Which someone did, but yelling from the other end echoed through the phone line—whoa—and Gavin straightened up. “Joe? It’s Gavin. Everything all right?”

  The line went dead.

  Gavin tried again, but no answer. “Dammit. What the hell happened?”

  “There’s nothing on the monitor. Whatever it is, it’s happening inside. Should we have the team take a look?”

  He tried the phone again. “No. I need to get them calm again and they’ll go nuts if they see a tactical team approach.”

  Someone picked up the other end. No yelling, but people were yapping at each other. “Joe? Talk to me. What do you need over there?”

  “Nothing,” Joe said. “Our prisoner just tried to run out the back door.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Janet look at him, her mouth partway open. Don’t look at her. Focus.

  “Well, Joe, you know, she’s probably terrified. Let’s get everyone to resume cool heads here, okay? Nobody is hurt, right?”

  Agree with me, asshole. Agree with me.

  “Nobody is hurt, but she won’t be trying that again. Stupid bitch.”

  Something in the way he said bitch struck Gavin as wrong. Like maybe Joe Smith wasn’t used to using colorful language. He made a note and stared at his notepad until the lines blurred. “What do you mean she won’t try that again?”

  “We were forced to restrain her. We were trying to go easy, but now she’s chained to the bed. No more talking.”

  He hung up.

  Gavin ripped his headset off, dumped it on the table and lowered himself to the folding chair. Next to him, Janet slowly peeled her headset away from her ear. “Well, just hell.”

  “Give her credit for trying, but we now have agitated hostage takers who chained a pregnant woman to a bed.” He put his head down, ran two fingers over his forehead. “If one of them tries something, she may not even be able to defend herself. Goddammit.”

  Janet reached over, touched his arm. “Take a break. A couple of minutes to regroup. That’s all.”

  “If I regroup, they regroup.”

  She stuck her hand out, where his iPod sat nestled in her palm. “Do it. Just a couple of minutes.”

  Most negotiators had a thing they did to decompress. Some exercised, some did puzzles, he list
ened to classical music. And she’d figured that out about him. He reached for the miniscule device, closed his hand over hers and squeezed. Their eyes met for a few brief seconds and he smiled.

  She set her other hand over his and rubbed it slowly across the top. The motion settled his tortured mind. Or maybe it made it worse because now he was conjuring other uses for those lovely little hands.

  What are you doing, Sheppard? Roxann Taylor is tied to a bed and this one is support staff. Problems everywhere and he was thinking about sex.

  But—yeah, it’s getting hot in here—that heat drilling right through him, teasing him, begging him to make a move.

  “This is tough stuff,” she said. “You’re used to dealing with people you don’t know. You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself. It’s not fair that you need to do this, but I love watching you work. It’s a noble thing and not many people could do it.”

  Make a move.

  Janet beat him to it. Sure did. When she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, he didn’t necessarily fight it. He, in fact, threw himself into the fray. Specifically, his tongue threw them into the fray. Not that it could be considered bad. Women like her, who understood his crazy life and the stress he faced during a negotiation, yet still managed to make him smile, hadn’t been in abundant supply for him.

  She stirred something inside him and—weak-willed pig that he was—he wanted more. And then maybe more after that. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

  Like every other good thing in his life, she backed away first, but settled her hand on his cheek. Nice.

  “Wow,” she said.

  He smiled and pulled his hand away, the iPod clutched between his fingers. “I’ll just take a minute to get my head together.” The one I need to get my boss’s pregnant wife out of this. “Let’s not share this chained-to-the-bed thing, okay? We’ll keep it between us? I don’t want to ignite the situation.”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  Sunlight shafted through the barn door and Vic stepped in. He took one look at Janet and halted. “What happened?”

  Chapter Three

  “Nothing happened,” Janet said.

  Vic assumed his arms-folded-scary-man stance. “You have that look you get when the shit is hitting the fan.”