Terms Of Attraction. Kylie Brant
I do not know.”
“I can guess.” McCabe shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark suit jacket, the motion pulling the fabric tight across his shoulders. “He figured this was his best chance to get away with it. He counted on a smaller police force. Less experienced security.” He sent a slight smile at Ava. “He figured wrong.”
The effect of that smile sent a frisson clear down her spine. Nerve endings quivered in response. Long-dormant hormones stirred. Ava straightened in her chair and stared back at McCabe, fighting for an impassive expression. There wasn’t a man alive who could affect her with just a look. Few who could affect her at all. A man that potent wasn’t just one to be wary of.
He was downright lethal.
“Ms. Carter.”
She half turned, her posture wary. Cael quickened his stride to catch up with her and wondered, not for the first time, what it was about the woman that drew this visceral immediate response. She was attractive, with hair and eyes so dark she could pass for a countrywoman of de la Reyes, if it weren’t for her pale skin. But he didn’t react to every attractive female he saw, especially on a job.
“What is it, McCabe?”
One corner of his mouth kicked up at the impatience in her tone. Her voice was a low alto, slightly raspy. Every time he heard it he thought of sex. Hot and sweaty and exhausting.
“If you’ve got a few minutes, I’d like to buy you a drink.” He was close enough to see the mask slide over her expression, and found himself intrigued yet again. Maybe she was used to men hitting on her and had developed an instant defense. He wasn’t hitting on her, but he’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t occurred to him.
“Sorry. I need to get home.” There was no trace of regret in her voice. She pushed open the door of the Metro City Police Headquarters and jogged down the steps.
“I’ll walk you to your car, then.” And it satisfied something inside him to intercept her sidewise glance, half irritated and half questioning. But she made no effort at conversation, clearly leaving that up to him.
He shoved his hands in his suit pockets and fleetingly wondered how long it would be before he could change into something that didn’t feel like a straitjacket. “So. Good shooting today. Were you lucky or are you that good?”
“I’m that good,” she said without a hint of modesty. And because it was no more than he’d heard, he nodded.
“Cold Shot. That’s your call sign, right? From what I hear, it’s well earned.” They stepped into the parking lot. “Who spotted the shooter first?”
“I work with a partner. He was in the conference room. Steve Banes.”
And that, he noted, didn’t answer the question. “Banes told your chief that you noticed it first.” She didn’t respond and he took that as an affirmative. So she wasn’t quick to take credit, a team player. Both facts only cemented his earlier decision. “I’d like to offer you a job.”
The hitch in her gait was the only sign he’d surprised her. “No.” Then after a pause that made it clear it was an afterthought, she added, “Thanks.”
“Haven’t heard my offer yet.” He figured which was her car before she stopped in front of it. A Pontiac, seven or eight years old, and showing its age. “My company, Global Security, specializes in a full array of security solutions. I’m always looking to hire qualified individuals. Your performance today was impressive.” Even more impressive had been what Chief Sanders had to say about Carter’s experience. He was still trying to square her reputation with the tall, lithe woman beside him who’d look more at home on a runway than in SWAT gear.
She clicked the automatic opener on the car, then reached for the handle, offering him a polite smile. “Like I said, I’m not interested. I’ve got a son and I have no intention of uprooting him.”
Disappointment stabbed through him, surprising in its strength. He’d also heard about her son, so her refusal wasn’t totally unexpected. What was unexpected was hearing himself offer, “I’ve got some employees that freelance for me. Work special jobs during their vacations. If you ever want to consider that, give me a call.” He handed her a card, quoting the range of pay.
Her eyes widened, her first real reaction since they’d started the conversation. “A month?”
“A week. Of course, it depends on the job.”
Looking bemused, she accepted the card and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. “The bodyguard business must be lucrative.”
“I prefer personal protection specialists, and yeah.” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s a dangerous world.”
“Tell me about it.” She opened the car door, got in. “Goodbye, McCabe.”
He stepped away, watching her back out of the space. Leave the lot. And wondered why he was feeling so disappointed that a woman he barely knew was driving out of his life.
She might have made it in time to pick up Alex, Ava thought darkly, as she reparked her car in the half-empty police headquarters lot thirty minutes later. Probably would have, given that he always seemed to be the last one out of the locker room. But the terse phone call she’d received when she’d been halfway to the East High School gym had ended hopes of getting home any time soon.
Her mood grim, she jogged up the steps to the building and flashed her ID at the officer manning the front desk. She strode by with barely a pause in her step, heading toward the stairs leading to the administrative offices. Chief Sanders hadn’t been particularly forthcoming on the phone. But it wasn’t like she could turn down his “request” that she head back in for yet another meeting.
Questions tumbled through her mind like circus acrobats. Had a question arisen regarding Cabrerra’s death? It had been a clean shoot, but she’d seen more than one SWAT sniper get caught up in bureaucratic bullshit after a public outcry.
She took the steps to the second floor two at a time. It was much too early for Sanders to be taking flak for the incident response. The nightly news had just aired. And the mayor, never her favorite person, wouldn’t have a reaction until the results of his daily polls were weighed.
Since it was impossible to guess the agenda for the meeting, Ava tried to shove her questions aside. But that didn’t dissipate the knot of nerves tightening in her stomach.
Knocking on the closed door of Sanders’s office, she awaited the chief’s growled invitation before entering. Immediately her gaze went to the strangers seated across the desk from the chief. She made them out as feds immediately. Their dark suits and arrogant expressions were more telling than badges.
“Detective Carter.” Chief Sanders waved her toward a chair. Ava sat in one a couple feet from the strangers. She felt the two men’s gazes on her, bold and appraising, so she returned their stares unflinchingly. With a few notable exceptions, she held feds in as low esteem as she did politicians, for much the same reasons.
“DHS Agents Samuelson and Paulus,” Sanders continued, with what passed for an introduction. The men gave her slight nods, and Ava struggled to hide her jolt of shock. What would Homeland Security want with her? Because it was at their request that Sanders had ordered her back. That much was clear.
“I’m sure you’re anxious to get home, Detective Carter,” started Samuelson. He was a tall, spare man, with slicked-back thinning dark hair and a tan that didn’t quite hide the old acne scars on his face. “I’ll get right to the point. I understand from Chief Sanders that you’ve met Cael McCabe, the owner of Global Securities.”
“Yes.”
The agent seemed to be waiting for her to go on, but when she didn’t, he pressed, “The two of you were seen together in the parking lot afterward.”
“Yes.” Seen by whom? Who had been the person of interest? McCabe or her?
A