“I’ll go,” Luke said.
“I’ve got it. You stay and get acquainted,” Jack said.
In emergency situations, communication was key. Hank might have reservations about their new dispatcher, but they all had to work together. If there was going to be a problem, Jack needed to know now. And if Marta couldn’t change Hank’s attitude, Jack would.
“If you don’t mind me leaving you with these two for a while,” he said to Marta.
“Whatever you say, Chief.” She hit the button again. “Dora, it’s your lucky day. The chief is on his way.”
“Great,” Jack said when she ended the call. “We’ll talk when I get back. In the meantime, Luke here can give you the tour, take you next door to meet our friendly firefighters.”
“Luke’s a rookie.” Hank’s voice scraped like barnacles over rock. He cleared his throat, his dark eyes fixing on Marta. “I’ll show you around.”
They all regarded him with varying degrees of surprise.
Marta’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I did say I wanted more of a challenge,” she murmured.
Red crept into Hank’s craggy face. His jaw hardened.
Jack narrowed his eyes, picking up some vibe in the room. Trouble? Flirtation?
He shook his head, dislodging the thought.Don’t overreact. Hank was simply pulling rank on Luke. Or he was making amends for that remark about the coffee.
They would be fine. Everything was under control.
“Don’t worry, Dad.” Luke’s blue eyes gleamed with laughter. “I’ll referee ’til you get home.”
Hank snorted. “More like I’ll be babysitting.”
And after that, what choice did he have but to trust them and go?
Moving forward? Or running away?
His fist curled on the handle of the door, the metal pressing into his palm. Damned if he knew anymore.
***
HE DIDN’T CALL.
Probably just as well, Lauren told herself as she trailed up the stairs of the Pirates’ Rest, her stomach churning with disappointment. The evening sun slanted through the windows, throwing rose-colored bars across the wooden treads and faded floral carpet.
Snipers were hardly known for their warm, nurturing personalities. If she wanted to salve her ego or recharge her energies, she could certainly find a less demanding hookup than the recently divorced, chip-on-his-shoulder, stick-up-his-butt chief of police.
What could Jack Rossi give her that she truly needed?
Jack, behind her, his hands at her waist, his lips at her throat, his body a solid wall at her back...
Well, except for that. She fumbled for her room key. Anyway, she didn’t expect him to call. Guys never did. But she’d thought—okay, maybe she had reallyhoped—that Jack would be different. All that confidence and control, the hot, disciplined body, the cool, assessing eyes. A man who knew what he wanted, she’d thought.
Two days ago, with him pressing hard and urgent against her, she had thought he wanted her.
My mistake.
She opened the door to her room. The stale air wrapped around her, smelling faintly of guest soap and bathroom cleaning products. The scent of a hundred hotels, reminding her how far she was from home. For a moment she couldn’t breathe.
She crossed to the window and dragged up the sash. The evening air flowed in, humid and alive with the scent of salt and a chorus of tree frogs.
Jack hadn’t said he would call. In fact, she’d gotten the impression that he was carefully avoiding saying much of anything at all.
