Tactical Pursuit

by Lynette Mae

  Her paperwork completed, Devon leaned forward in her chair to rest her elbows on the desk and cupped her forehead in her hands. She closed her eyes, grateful to have even a minute of rest.

  Her mind drifted pleasantly to the image of Jessie standing silhouetted in the moonlight, her eyes drawing Devon into their warmth and passion. Since the day they’d first met, she’d felt a strong attraction to Jessie, but knowing that Jessie was interested changed everything. Even still, Devon sensed that a relationship with Jessie would be entirely different than she was accustomed to. Jessie was special, not the type who would enter into a casual relationship. She was the kind of woman who needed to be courted—Devon laughed to herself—never having thought in these terms before. Jessie had an inner strength and depth to her personality that made her more intriguing and challenging, a woman worth every effort.

  Devon had never cared for flighty or shallow women, and Jessie was obviously confident, intelligent, and yeah, sexy as hell. Devon hoped she’d be up to the task, given her own dismal track record with relationships. She relived the brief tender kisses they shared and felt the familiar flood of energy flow through her as the memory lit up her nerve endings. Jessie definitely had responded, and damn those kisses were unbelievable. Content to revel in the sublime sensations, she floated mentally until Reinhart’s voice brought her back to the present.

  “Listen up, everyone. Let’s get started,” he called out.

  The noisy chatter faded as the students turned their attention to the front. Returning from the blissful daydream, Devon focused on the woman striding confidently through the door. She gasped. The new instructor scanned the room, stopped short, and gaped back at Devon as though she had seen a ghost.

  Oh, shit. Devon could not believe it.

  They stared at each other across the expanse of the classroom until Jillian Gray spun on her heels and exited the way she’d entered, leaving Devon sitting in stunned silence.

  Chapter Eight

  REINHART LOOKED SHOCKED by Jillian’s sudden exit, but recovered quickly. “Take ten everybody,” he said and then pursued Jillian out the door.

  The room buzzed with speculation about what was going on. Most of the guys got up to take advantage of the unscheduled break, chattering while they filed out of the room. What would make the new instructor suddenly run out? Was she looking at someone in the class when she came in? Someone asked aloud which one of them had hit that before, and another suggested he wouldn’t mind a turn. Devon tried to ignore the comments. Finally a guy who had obviously had his shirt tailored to make his biceps look bigger than they actually were, snickered, “She’s probably PMS’ing.” Devon closed her eyes and gripped the desk hard to keep from popping off at the idiot.

  “Yo, TPD? You coming?”

  It took a couple of seconds for Devon to realize the question was directed at her. She opened her eyes to see a young man wearing a Lakeland SWAT shirt watching her from the doorway with kind eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  Not waiting, he disappeared into the hall.

  She sat staring at the spot where Jillian had stood, unable to believe what she had seen with her own eyes. Jillian was here? The thought was too insane to process. After all of these years without any contact or a clue as to her whereabouts, how in the hell could they end up in the same classroom in Central Florida?

  Jillian.

  Devon’s mind was a blur of thoughts and images. Angry pain welled up inside as memories of her first heartbreak returned to the surface. Jillian. The woman who had awakened her body and branded her soul, then tossed their love aside in the blink of an eye. She’d never quite gotten over the way Jillian did it without ever looking back, without even asking what Devon wanted. How could she be here?

  The walls of the classroom closed in, making her feel like a caged animal. She launched out of her seat and charged from the room, down the hallway through the exterior door, bursting out into the brilliant morning sun. When Devon reached the Jeep she gripped the bumper to steady herself against the sensation of her carefully constructed world spiraling out of control.

  Never in her wildest imaginings would she have thought Jillian would reappear in her life, and certainly not like this. She sensed a familiar presence and turned. Jillian stood across the lot watching her. After a moment’s hesitation she stepped off the curb in Devon’s direction, only to be intercepted by Reinhart. He stood with his back to Devon, blocking her view as he spoke to Jillian. A minute later the two of them reentered the building.

  Devon sat on the bumper and pulled in deep breaths, slowly corralling her runaway emotions. She considered the situation and realized that her choices were few. Leaving wasn’t an option. Granted, Jillian’s appearance changed the complexion of this week immeasurably, but this training was important to her professionally if she hoped to advance on the team. That was the reason she was here, regardless of this unexpected complication.

  Devon stood and examined her reflection in the windshield. She was a completely different person now. The heartache Jillian had inflicted was bad, but she’d survived, stronger for the experience. No way was she going to let that woman see any weakness now. She was no longer the naïve little virgin who had fallen victim to the charms of the charismatic womanizer. Devon squared her shoulders and walked back toward the classroom. This time, she was the one in control.

  As the instructors returned, Jillian’s eyes instantly locked onto hers again, but this time Devon’s face was a mask of indifference. She could read the confusion and maybe even a touch of fear in those features she knew so well. She held the stare, taking a swallow from her water bottle to mask her own inner jitters. Jillian dropped her gaze to the desk in front of her and fumbled with the papers there. Devon was a little surprised to see her so obviously flustered. Good. She drew perverse comfort knowing that her presence was unsettling Jillian. Now if she could only keep herself from coming unglued.

  Reinhart and Jillian conversed for a few moments at the front of the classroom. Although Devon couldn’t hear the conversation, it was obvious the two had a great rapport. Bert said something that drew a smile and a good-natured shove from Jill. The banter soon shifted back to business and Bert picked up where he’d left off before the interruption. “Thanks for your patience, everyone. Some of you already know our lead instructor. Sergeant Gray is the supervisor for the Orange County Special Weapons and Tactics team. She is widely respected as a tactical leader and SWAT trainer throughout the state and even the country. We are fortunate to have her with us this week. Pay attention. She has a lot to offer. So, now I’ll turn it over to the sergeant.” He nodded in her direction and moved aside. “T.J.?”

  T.J.? What the—? The letters echoed through Devon’s skull like the sound effects from a B-rated horror flick. No. This couldn’t be. Could it? She clawed through the resurgent memories clouding her brain in the presence of Jillian, back to the conversation she’d had with Mac. Five-eleven, auburn hair, big brown eyes, worked in Orange County. Devon stifled a groan. This day was getting worse by the minute.

  Jillian smiled briefly at Reinhart in acknowledgement. She glanced again at Devon and then surveyed the class. “Sorry for the interruption earlier.”

  Devon was glad to be sitting in the back row. Jillian’s proximity was rattling her. One minute, she was full of anger and the next she’d see Jill smile and her stomach was in knots. She downed her bottle of water and tried to look anywhere but directly at Jillian, wondering how she was going to make it to Friday. Jillian turned to the whiteboard behind her, and Devon surreptitiously studied her while she picked up the black marker and wrote. The years had been kind to Jill. She looked fitter and carried herself with more confidence than ever. Her figure was still slender, but she sported more muscle than Devon remembered. Tight muscle. The black BDU pants, body-hugging black T-shirt and boots gave her a ruggedly attractive appearance. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that brushed the back of her neck when she moved. Jill�
��s looks were never in question, but the added maturity made her more beautiful than ever. Devon swallowed hard, fighting inappropriate memories.

  Jillian turned back toward the class as though she’d heard Devon’s thoughts. Her dark eyes caught Devon’s for a moment and held before she appeared to mentally shake herself, shifting her instructor persona into place. Her focus tracked around the room as she gestured to the words she had written on the board behind her, “Find the warrior within you.”

  In a strong and certain voice she said, “A true warrior is invincible. He competes with no one except himself, only striving to defeat the fear of limitations that we harbor within.” She swept the room with a fierce look. “Those are the words of the Sensei, Morihei Ueshiba, the great martial arts master and founder of Aikido. The warrior within is what we’re after this week. You will be tested— pushed—beyond your previous limits, physically and mentally. Every day will be a challenge to reach a new personal best. You will achieve higher goals here.” Jillian moved down the aisle between desks as she spoke, incredibly focused. Each word measured carefully and delivered with quiet intensity that riveted her audience. Devon was no exception, drawn in with the rest of the class.

  “Every one of you is here because you are good at what you do. You are outstanding SWAT officers. I’m here to take you to the next level, and interestingly enough, the next level is inside of you. Mastering skills is only the beginning. A true warrior knows himself, commands his own mind, and knows he will achieve victory. Therefore he does not doubt or hesitate. That’s what I want from you this week. I want you to merge body and mind.”

  She tapped the side of her head. “What I’m talking about is urban warfare. That’s what we are, right? Urban warriors? A true warrior seeks peace. The role of policing is to keep the peace.” She was almost directly in front of Devon’s desk now. “When the public is attacked or afraid, they call the police. What happens when your brothers and sisters in blue get into trouble? They call SWAT.” She stopped inches from Devon’s seat. “They call you.” She slapped her hand down on Devon’s desk to emphasize the last word. Jillian’s eyes blazed with fiery emotion, pulling Devon involuntarily into the vortex of her passionate speech.

  “Your training will be concentrated and intense.” She worked her way toward the front again and Devon found herself watching that slow sway of her hips a little too long. Warning bells clanged in her brain. “Remember, we are defensively offensive,” Jillian continued. “By design we are reactive. We only respond to provocation, but once we respond, we must ensure that our adversary feels an overwhelming force.”

  When Jillian reached the front of the room, she turned again to face the class. “Today is going to be all about you. When your body is pushed to the limit, can you still overcome that stress to focus on your task? Once you’ve had to battle physical obstacles, the bad guy still needs to be neutralized. You are no good to your team if you can’t make the shot. The warrior in you must prevail—body and mind. Make sure you’re hydrated. This morning is not for the faint of heart. I’ll see you all on the range in fifteen minutes.”

  JILLIAN STOOD, HANDS on hips, at the center of the firing line with a nine-millimeter pistol encased in the holster strapped to her right thigh, waiting for the class to assemble. Devon took in her surroundings as she walked with the rest of her classmates toward the firing line. The outdoor range was well maintained. A roofed area with bench seats and a couple of water coolers was just off the parking lot. About thirty yards beyond that, covered shooting stands stood at the entrance of several firing areas separated by eight-foot-high cement block walls extending perpendicular from the thirty-foot “berm,” the large hills at the end of the shooting lanes used to catch the bullets fired. The firing area itself was a grassy, uncovered space, approximately fifty yards deep and wide, with lines marking the standard shooting distances from three to fifty yards.

  Fifteen yards behind Jillian a row of targets stood in a line. They were the typical silhouette paper targets used by police agencies around the state, sectioned off into various scoring areas. Center mass and head areas carried a value of five, while the outer torso scored four, and arms counting three. These targets were all folded in various ways, either vertically or horizontally, removing half of the silhouette from view.

  When the group gathered in front of her, Jillian spoke. “As you can see, your normal scoring areas on the targets have been reduced by half. Additionally, the only hits that will count are those in the center or fives. You’ll have to make certain your shot groups are tight, because in this exercise there’s not much room for error.” A breeze caught the red wind flag to Devon’s right, causing it to flap briskly in a westward direction. Jillian glanced up as well before continuing.

  “Everybody take a position in front of one of the targets downrange.” The students complied. “That will be your firing position for the morning. This exercise will be physically and mentally taxing. We’ll begin with a short run. Two miles, just to get everybody’s heart rate up. When we get back, fall in on the fifteen-yard line in front of your target. We’ll take two shots. Then we’ll continue with additional calisthenics, and at the completion again everyone takes two shots. This is going to go on for a while, so I hope you’re ready. As you become fatigued and the heat starts taking its toll, your mental strength must take over. There is no quitting and again, only fives count. A miss gets you eliminated. Questions?”

  No one had any.

  “Then let’s go.” Without another word Jillian started off in a jog, and everyone fell in behind her. Devon felt confident about this particular test. She knew her cardio fitness was above average and she was a good shot. It didn’t matter how far Jillian was going to push them, she would not see Devon fail. After the second lap around the range, they returned to the line. Devon stopped at her target, set and fired. No problem.

  Reinhardt shouted at them, “Squat thrusts with a pushup! Give me ten and take two shots. We’ll do five reps for a total of fifty thrusts and ten shots. Don’t stop until you’re told!”

  Devon squatted, kicked her legs behind her into a plank position, knocked out a pushup, jumped her feet back in and stood. After ten reps, she set and fired. Ten more squat thrusts. Two shots. She was starting to feel it in her arms and legs. That pushup in the middle doubled the intensity and she concentrated on controlling her breathing. The guy next to her, who loved his muscles and bragged about his fitness, missed the next shot. Jillian tapped him on the shoulder and he stepped off the line.

  “I don’t care how much weight you can bench press, if you can’t make the shot you are no good to me.” Jill’s words carried through the air. Devon’s bullets hit home.

  Suddenly Jillian’s voice was in her ear. “I remember your tenacity. Are you still too stubborn to quit?”

  Devon shook off the teasing tone and dove to the ground for the next set. She could still feel Jill standing just over her left shoulder and wondered why she didn’t go bother someone else. She squatted, kicked, did a pushup, jumped her feet back in, and stood on ever more unsteady legs. Doing her best to ignore Jillian, she concentrated on her shots. On and on it went, endlessly it seemed. Periodically Jill would wander over to offer encouragement to those remaining, and her words to Devon struck a nerve each time. “Just like the major’s PT challenge in advanced training, Dev. It’s all you.” Her voice was low and held a hint of emotion. Devon refused to look at her. The fatigue was affecting her, eroding her emotional strength, making Jillian’s encouragement nothing but stressful.

  “Dig deep, people!” Jillian urged. The line had been systematically thinning. Devon’s legs, arms and lungs were on fire. She dragged herself to her feet, following what she was sure had to be the last rep. She straightened. Pulled in a slow, deep breath, drew her pistol, pulled in more air. Focus. Squeeze. Don’t jerk the trigger. The shot exploded from her pistol.

  “Stop!” She waited while Reinhardt checked the target, thankful for the chance to rest at las
t. He examined hers and broke into a wide smile. “Good job, James!” Then he moved to his right to continue scoring, and to Devon’s shock only she and the guy from Lakeland remained standing on the line.

  He grinned sideways at her. “Just you and me, TPD.”

  “Bert,” Jillian shouted. “Put up two new targets. Headshots only. Let’s get a winner.” She stood between Devon and John from Lakeland. “When I say go, last set. Ten squat thrusts and two shots. Good luck.”

  Devon had no idea how she managed the last thrust, but miraculously she was standing, slightly swaying. She sucked in a huge breath and drew her pistol. As she sighted, Reinhart asked, “T.J. What does the winner get?”

  Her first shot hit dead center and she set for the next.

  Jillian called from somewhere to her left, “Dinner on me.”

  Devon jerked the trigger and missed the last shot.

  MERCIFULLY, THE FIRST day came to a close and all Devon wanted was to escape to the hotel. Exhausted from lack of sleep and fighting to focus during eight hours of training while battling the Jillian-induced emotional storm had left her nerves frayed as never before. Once alone inside her room she fell onto the nearest queen-sized bed, almost immediately drifting into a restless, fitful sleep filled with memories she thought dead and buried long ago.

  A sharp ray of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the end of the bed momentarily and then extinguished with the click of the closing door. She felt rather than heard a figure moving toward the bed, a silent presence that was not unexpected or frightening. Her nipples tightened with anticipation as the shadowy figure slid beneath the sheet to caress a hand over her naked flesh. She gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath as her nerve endings fired to life under the knowing touch. The visitor’s hands moved slowly from her chest around her breasts, carefully avoiding her puckering nipples, down her abdomen, where they traced lightly along the rim of her navel before continuing lower. Caresses stopped at the edge of the trimmed patch of light curls, fanning out instead over her hips, sliding along the soft skin of one inner thigh, below her knee then returning back up the inside of the other leg.