Terms Of Attraction

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 note of impatience crept into Samuelson’s tone. “Did the two of you have a conversation?”

“Yes.” She saw Sanders hide a smile at her less than enlightening responses. But she was damned if she was going to feed the feds any information before they extended her the same courtesy.

“We’d like to know what you discussed.” It was the first time Agent Paulus had spoken, and Ava shifted her attention to him. He was a good foot shorter than Samuelson, stocky, with coarse gingery hair and nearly invisible eyebrows.

“Why?”

“Because we asked, Ms. Carter.” Samuelson’s omission of her title didn’t escape her. Neither did his biting tone. She was familiar with the intimidation tactics feds could use to leverage information. She glanced again at Sanders and he gave her a small nod.

She leaned back in her chair, feigning nonchalance. “He offered me a job.” The two agents exchanged a look. Clearly she’d startled them. But even more surprising was the suppressed excitement she sensed her words elicited from them.

“With Global Securities?” Samuelson barely waited for her nod before pressing, “And what was your answer?”

“I told him I wasn’t interested.” Her interest was piqued now, however.

“We’d like you to reconsider your answer to McCabe’s job offer,” Samuelson said. Though couched as a suggestion, it sounded more like a command. “There’s a matter of national security you could assist with by doing so.”

“Why would I do that?” She didn’t understand Chief Sanders’s silence, but she was tiring of the subterfuge. And her diplomacy skills tended to thin when she was tired.

“Patriotism?” offered Paulus. “Duty to your country? Commitment to national freedom?”

Anger coursed through her, a hot rush of feeling. Although she knew she was being manipulated, she was helpless to stem her response. “I’m recently recovered from taking a bullet because of my line of work. Just got back on the job two weeks ago. Tread carefully, gentlemen. You might not want to question my sense of duty.”

“She’s right.” As if Sanders could remain quiet no longer, he came forward in his chair, aimed a steely look at the agents. “Detective Carter is a valued member of our force, and of our incident response unit. Time to fish or cut bait, gentlemen. If you want interagency cooperation, you have to be open about the mission you’re asking Detective Carter’s help on.”

“Of course.” Samuelson smoothed his muted striped tie, his manner stiff. “We were getting to that. Our agency has an interest in Antonio de la Reyes’s new government and of the political climate in San Baltes. McCabe is providing security for de la Reyes, and anyone on his team would have access to certain…intelligence…that would help us with our threat assessment of the newly formed government there. With your heroics today, we thought you’d be in the perfect position to impress McCabe. Petition him for a position on his team.” He gave her a small smile devoid of sincerity. “Obviously you already accomplished that feat. He was impressed enough to offer you a job, which would make your task even more plausible.”

It was amazing, Ava thought cynically, what passed for open communication with these guys. Or maybe they really underestimated her intelligence enough that they thought she’d buy their story unquestioningly. “Why do you need me? Why not approach McCabe directly for the information?” She read her answer from the pained expressions on the agents’ faces.

“Mr. McCabe was disinterested in cooperating.”

Ava’s lips quirked. She could imagine McCabe’s response had been somewhat less polite than Samuelson indicated. Her estimation of the security consultant kicked up a notch.