by LENA DIAZ,
“Do we have the go-ahead to move in?” Blake asked, inching closer to the door.
Dillon arched a brow and spoke into the mic. “Chief?”
Thornton practically growled through the headset. “Like you’re going to follow my orders either way? Just handle it, Dillon.”
Dillon grinned, as did the rest of the team. Donna laughed.
Blake stared at her, wondering if she and the others had gone crazy. “Is there something I should know about?”
“Inside joke,” Donna said.
Blake tightened his hold on his gun, and wondered if maybe he’d been wrong earlier in thinking he was part of the team now.
“Blake?” Donna said. “We ignored Thornton’s direct orders the last time we were crouched under this very window. That’s why I laughed. That’s why everyone was smiling, and Thornton sounds like a grumpy bear.”
“Don’t push me, Officer Waters,” Thornton growled again through the headset.
Donna grinned and winked at Blake.
That wink was like a jolt of electricity, shooting straight through his body, warming him from the inside out. It blasted away his doubts, and it had him wanting more than ever to finally get Donna alone and tell her all the things that had been going through his head since the moment he realized that he wasn’t leaving Destiny. Or, at least, he didn’t want to. But Donna was the one who would be deciding his fate.
Whether she realized it or not.
Chris tapped Dillon’s shoulder. “Movement on the east corner,” he whispered. “Appears to be a civilian. Belly-crawling toward the exit. I think it’s one of the daughters.”
“Is she hurt?” Dillon’s questioning gaze drilled into Chris.
“Negative. I don’t see any signs of injuries.” He smiled. “Not like last time, huh?”
Relief flashed across Dillon’s face. “Not so far. Let’s do this. Let’s bring these people home. No casualties today, team. You got that? I don’t want anyone hurt but the bad guys. And not even them if we can help it.” He motioned to Blake.
Blake jerked the door open, and the team rushed inside, two by two, pausing just past the doorway as they scanned the expansive rows of cubicles with their rifles.
Dillon pointed to the young girl who’d frozen in place when they ran inside, her eyes wide with hope and fear at the same time. Colby stood guard, watching over the girl while Max scooped her up in his arms and ran with her outside.
One safe. Two to go.
Dillon gave Donna and Blake a signal to search the west side of the building while he and Chris headed east. Colby and Max would back all of them up, helping where needed and ensuring that no one but Mrs. Grant and her remaining daughter escaped their net.
The building formed a rectangle with rows of six-foot-high cubicle walls, divided in the middle by a line of glassed-in offices, bathrooms and conference rooms. Solid walls acted as firebreaks every twenty feet. The two teams would have to search and clear each section in a grid pattern before moving to the next.
Blake and Donna had just stepped down one of the aisles when a scratching sound whispered through the wall one aisle over. They both crouched down, as if the move had been choreographed. Which, if he thought about it, had been. All of their training had embedded itself as muscle memory. They worked seamlessly together, each of them knowing what the other was thinking, what they needed to do next. And everything was going like clockwork.
Until now.
Because the next logical step in the plan was for her to wait at one end of the aisle, while he crept to the other end. Then they would converge in a flanking maneuver and confront whoever was in the next aisle. That was their training. That was what they should do.
But he couldn’t.
This past week, they’d shared everything a man and woman could share—their hopes, their fears, their minds...their bodies. They’d become one in every sense of the word. And then they’d run down a tunnel to save their friends, a perfect team, and had saved them all.
But he hadn’t saved her. He hadn’t saved Donna.
It had always been his belief that if they ever got in a tight spot, between her skills and his, the bad guys would have no chance. And that if she ever faltered, he’d be there to protect her, to keep her safe.
But he hadn’t been.
That fateful moment during the shoot-out, it had been Lopez—not Blake—who’d made the kill shot that had saved Donna’s life. He’d been running on adrenaline ever since, never slowing down enough to process what had happened. But it all caught up to him now, and he knew, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let the woman he loved round that corner, run into the next aisle, into danger. Because he was no longer certain that he could protect her. And that knowledge had his hands shaking, his palms sweating inside his gloves, his vision tunneling down to dark spots.
He couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t send her into danger and hope that she would be okay. The very idea was insanity.
He just couldn’t.
Breathe. Her lips moved, forming the silent word. Her beautiful face wavered in his vision.
Breathe.
His lungs burned.
Breathe.
Air suddenly rushed in. The darkness began to fade. He drew another gulp of air. Then another.
She smiled and gave him the thumbs-up sign.
He tried to smile back but wasn’t sure he’d managed more than a grimace.
Everything came into sharp focus now. The scratching noise sounded again, from farther up the aisle. Like fabric scuffing against carpet. Whoever was in the next aisle was moving, crawling. Friend or foe? There was no way to know.
Donna motioned for him to stay. Then she signaled that she would head to the next aisle. Alone.
She crept back a step, toward the mouth of the aisle.
He grabbed her arm, stopping her.
She arched a brow in question.
I love you. He silently mouthed the words.
I know, she mouthed back. Then she grinned and gave him an outrageous wink.
The tightness in his chest eased. He wanted to laugh with joy. He wanted to grab her in his arms and crush her to him, never let her go. But that could wait. It would have to. Because this amazing, smart, strong, capable woman loved him. She’d told him that with actions, if not words. And that gave him the strength to see past his fear, to trust her, trust himself and face whatever might lie ahead.
Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her face it alone.
He motioned for her to wait, and he crept down the long aisle to the other end. When they were both in position, he held up three fingers, counting down.
Three.
Two.
One.
They both rushed around the wall of cubicles into the next aisle. A young girl, the second daughter, backed up against the wall, her eyes wide with terror.
Blake jerked his gun to the side, while Donna hurried to her and murmured low words, soothing her.
“Second daughter located,” Blake whispered into the mic, and gave the location. Moments later, Max was there, scooping the girl up in his arms, while Chris watched over them. Then they were gone, hustling her out of the building.
The mic crackled. Dillon announced that they’d taken down Sanchez’s man, who’d been guarding Grant’s family. Colby had him handcuffed, with leg shackles to be extra safe, and was taking him out of the building.
“One more bad guy—or bad girl—to go,” Dillon announced.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Blake warned, having learned from the paint ball exercise. “Be alert. There could be others.”
“Noted,” Dillon’s voice crackled through the mic.
Donna smiled at Blake and made a rolling motion with her hand. Together, as a team, they headed into the next aisle.
In the end, it w
as Dillon who captured Stacy Bell, without incident. Donna and Blake were there, backing him up. As a team, they surrounded her, took her into custody with no shots fired, and escorted a nearly hysterical Mrs. Grant out of the building, unharmed. As soon as she saw her two daughters waiting near an ambulance, she let out a heartbreaking sob and ran to them. The little family huddled together, crying, but smiling through their tears, because everything was going to be okay.
Chapter Nineteen
Donna leaned against the railing of Chris Downing’s back deck, unable to keep from smiling as she watched her fellow SWAT teammates and their wives, all together, once again. Minus Randy, of course. But he would always be there, in their hearts. And his mother, barely a month after Randy’s funeral, was with them, too. She’d become a part of their extended family. And she was smiling and seemed to be enjoying herself, at Chris’s expense, offering him tips about how to grill the perfect steak, tips Donna was quite certain he didn’t want, since he considered himself a master at cooking out.
Over the top of Mrs. Carter’s head, Chris gave her a suffering look, silently pleading with her to save him. She grinned and shook her head. Because she knew he didn’t really want to be saved. He was a softy inside, like all the big, tough SWAT team members. Besides, if he really needed saving, his wife, Julie, would take care of it. She was inside the kitchen right now, readying some corncobs to put on the grill.
Ashley was on the other side of the grill, bouncing her toddler daughter on her hip, laughing about something Dillon had just whispered in her ear. The man was truly smitten with both his wife and his daughter. Seeing them together always surprised and delighted Donna, because Ashley drew out the joy and laughter, the softness inside Dillon that he normally kept hidden under a tough, macho-guy exterior.
Much like Blake.
She sighed as she watched him near the deck steps, appearing to be truly fascinated by the gardening wisdom of Claire, the chief’s wife, as she told him how to grow the biggest, juiciest tomatoes, and how to know if a watermelon was truly ripe and sweet. Then again, maybe he wasn’t pretending. It had taken Donna months to see past that brooding, serious, intimidating persona he tended to use as his shield against the world. But now that she did, she realized just how sweet, caring and wonderful he truly was.
Blake Sullivan was a marshmallow inside.
He cared deeply about others, and what they thought. Sometimes he cared a little too much, which had led to him getting hurt too many times. So he had a habit of putting up walls to protect himself, to hide his true emotions, his fears, his insecurities. Which was why he seemed so prickly to those who didn’t really get to know him. But once they did, once they were through that wall, the rewards were endless.
Oh, there’d been some rough moments between them, particularly after the rescue operation where they’d saved Grant’s family. All those fears and insecurities had reared their ugly head. Blake had suffered his first-ever panic attack inside that building, and had been mortified that she’d been there to witness it. But knowing the reason for it, that he’d been terrified that she might get hurt, had pushed her over the edge she’d been clinging to—that emotional edge, wavering between an intense infatuation and full-blown love. Letting go and falling to the other side had been the best decision she’d ever made.
Of course, they’d both had to report to Dillon that Blake had suffered that panic attack. After all, if it happened once, it could happen again. Which of course could be extremely dangerous for all of them in their line of work. But Dillon was being supportive, because he too had grown to see the value in Blake, as both a member of their team and as a friend. And they would face the difficulties together, and if necessary, make some difficult decisions. Like whether the panic attack was actually part of a larger problem—PTSD—that Blake had been ignoring since his military days.
His military days.
Turned out, there was a whole lot of baggage buried in his past, baggage he’d only just begun to open up about, in little pieces. Frightening, dark little pieces that made her want to weep for what he’d endured. And gave her a whole new level of understanding for why he’d put up those walls of his and why he was consumed with wanting to protect people, especially her.
Oh, how she loved this man.
He looked over the top of Claire’s head and smiled at her. Not the suffering kind of smile Chris had given her, but a true, I’m-loving-talking-to-this-wise-woman kind of smile. He was enjoying life, his new friends, his team. And her.
She smiled back, her heart nearly bursting from joy.
“Get a room, will ya?” Max’s wife, Bex, joined her by the railing. “I swear, I’ve never seen a couple exchange more puppy dog looks between them.”
“Uh-huh. Like you and Max aren’t sickeningly sweet.”
Bex sighed and stared off into the backyard where Max was talking animatedly with Colby and his new wife, Piper. “Love is in the air, I guess. Who’d have thought the entire SWAT team would end up head over heels in love like this? We’re all turning into our parents.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
Bex smiled as she watched her own husband. “No, I guess it’s not. Hey, did you ever hear the resolution of the FBI’s investigation into Grant’s actions?”
“I think the investigation is still ongoing. But Grant is cooperating, taking full responsibility for everything that happened. He’s so happy to have his family safe and sound, that I don’t think he even cares what happens to him.”
“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” Bex said. “I’d like to think I wouldn’t have done what he did. But, honestly, if Max was in danger, there’s probably nothing I wouldn’t do, no line I wouldn’t cross, if it meant saving his life.”
Donna nodded. “I know what you mean. But I’m still not at the forgive-and-forget stage. It still hurts too much. I miss Randy.”
“We all do. But the pain will fade in time. Life must go on.” Bex kissed her cheek. “I’d better go rescue Piper. She’s new to our extended family and looks bored to death over whatever Colby and Max are discussing. I wouldn’t want to scare her away. She might not ever come back when Colby comes to visit.”
She headed off to save her new friend.
Blake caught Donna’s attention and motioned for her to join him. The chief and his wife were over by the grill now, setting up mouthwatering side dishes on a little table, leaving Blake alone. Finally.
She hurried to him, delighted when he leaned down and kissed her full on the lips.
“What was that for?” she breathed, clinging to him.
“Just because.”
He checked his watch, which he’d done several times this afternoon. She was about to ask him why he kept checking it when Chris called out that the steaks were ready.
Blake checked his watch again.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, as they moved to the side to let others head up on the deck to get their food.
“Yes and no. I hate to ask, but would you mind skipping the steaks? At least for now. We can come back later. I’m sure Chris will save us some leftovers. There’s something I want to show you. And it really can’t wait.”
Disappointment slashed through her. She’d been thoroughly enjoying the cookout, seeing all her teammates and their families. But the excitement in Blake’s tone told her this was important to him. So she smiled and put her hand in his.
“How long will this take?” she asked. “Should I grab my purse from inside?”
“Not long. We can come back and get it.” He tugged her with him through the yard, toward the front of the house.
Everyone waved goodbye. None of them seemed surprised that they were leaving.
“Blake? What’s going on?” she asked.
“You’ll see.”
Twenty minutes later, they were on the other side of town, sitting in Blake’s truck, just off a
two-lane rural highway. Tall oak trees shaded them and partially obscured them from view. A faded billboard sat opposite them on the other side of the road, advertising the best burgers in town at Eva-Marie’s Diner on Magnolia Street, catty-corner from the Piggly Wiggly. A claim Donna had to admit was true. They did have the best cheeseburgers she’d ever tasted.
Blake checked his watch again.
“Blake? Will you please tell me why we’re here, and why you keep checking your watch?”
“Wait one more minute. Just watch the highway.”
She let out a frustrated breath and crossed her arms. The love of her life was trying to bore her to death, if she didn’t die of frustration first. “I’m watching. What’s going to happen next? Is a chicken going to cross the road? Are we going to find out the answer to the age-old question of why?”
He grinned, then pulled her close and kissed her so deeply, so passionately, that she practically slid into a boneless puddle when he let her go.
Maybe she should complain more often.
She was about to do that very thing, and see if it gained her another kiss, when he straightened in his seat.
“Watch,” he said, sounding as excited as a little kid.
A red convertible came into view, barreling down the highway toward them with its top down, obviously going well above the speed limit. As it got closer, Donna recognized the woman at the wheel. The mayor’s wife. The same woman who’d sped through a school zone, endangering children. The same woman who’d pushed the mayor into firing both her and Blake when Grant was running things.
“Where’s a traffic cop when you need one?” she muttered.
“Funny you should say that.”
The car sped past them.
A motorcycle cop zipped out from behind the Eva-Marie Diner billboard and raced down the highway after the little red convertible, lights flashing and siren blaring. A few seconds later, both were pulled over on the side of the road, and the motorcycle cop was walking up to the mayor’s wife’s car door.