Crossfire. B.J. Daniels

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finally given him the number. But he’d never called.

      Instead he’d shown up at the beach, and he was so shy, so sincere, so nervous he seemed like a different guy.

      “You saved my life,” he said.

      Right. “It wasn’t quite that dramatic.”

      “You’re wrong.” He settled those dark eyes on her. “It was for me. It was the luckiest day of my life.”

      That day at the ballpark he’d been wearing the T-shirt she’d carried around with her for the last five years. His lucky shirt, he used to call it. Lucky because he’d been wearing it the day he met her.

      She normally didn’t date his type. Jocks. Stars of one sport or another. The kind of guys her sister Emily always dated. And ended up marrying.

      Anna had only given him her number that day at the hospital to shut him up. She’d never expected him to call. If he had called, she would have turned him down. And saved them both a lot of grief. Instead he’d shown up at the beach, looking sweet and shy and anxious as he asked her to dinner.

      And fool that she’d been, she’d said yes. Look where that had gotten them, she thought now, dragging herself out of the memory as Flint halted at the door to the briefing room.

      He opened the door and stood back to let her enter.

      “After you,” she said. “Just one of the team.”

      He made a face. “Right.” He turned and entered the room ahead of her.

      She braced herself. There were always a few men on a SWAT team who had trouble accepting a woman among them. Fortunately most of the men were younger, more in tune with the times. Flint, she hoped, would prove to be the exception rather than the rule, since the Courage Bay SWAT team was all men.

      As she stepped into the briefing room, she heard a male voice ask, “You are aware that the last time a paramedic went in with us, she was injured?”

      There was some grumbling agreement.

      “That’s why I’ve gone with a paramedic with SWAT training and experience,” Max answered. “Anna can handle herself under pressure. She knows the danger. She’s going to surprise you all.”

      Anna flushed. “Thank you, Chief Zirinsky,” she said, moving out from behind Flint to meet a lot of very male faces.

      To her surprise, Flint stepped to her side. “Gentlemen, this is Anna Carson, our new SWAT team paramedic. Anna, if you will,” he said, giving her the floor.

      She looked at the men, then laid it out for them in a flat, no-nonsense account. “I am SWAT trained, second in my class. I spent three years on a Washington, D.C., SWAT team. I received several medals for bravery and dedication to duty. I have been involved in tactical situations from bank robberies and terrorist attacks to domestic disputes and hostage-suicides.” She stopped before adding, “I’m honored to be part of your SWAT team, and I look forward to working with all of you.”

      Silence. Then, “This isn’t Washington, D.C. We don’t have the same kind of manpower.” It was one of the older men. His name tag read T.C. Waters. “I, for one, don’t like the idea of a woman on the team. Call me old-fashioned—”

      “Old-fashioned and a true chauvinist,” Flint said, and laughed. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, T.C. They’re even letting women vote nowadays.”

      “Aw, T.C. even gripes about women reporters on the field during a football game,” a younger SWAT member called from the back.

      “Yeah, he says he doesn’t like the sound of their voices,” said another one. More laughter.

      “The bottom line here is that Anna’s on the team,” Flint said, looking over at her. “We treat her like we would any other team member. Forget she’s a woman.”

      There were some chuckles. “Yeah, right,” one of the guys retorted. “At least you could have hired an ugly one, Chief.”

      Even Max laughed this time. The desk sergeant stuck his head in the doorway. “Chief.”

      Max went to the door and immediately called Flint over.

      Anna didn’t have to hear what they were saying. She saw Flint’s face, saw the color drain from it and the look he gave her.

      His gaze met hers, then moved past to his men. “City hall. Possible hostage situation. Suit up.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      8:02 a.m.

      FLINT KNEW THE DRILL by heart: contain and control. The command center was quickly set up in the briefing room with a view of city hall out the window.

      “Lock down that building,” he ordered into the high-tech headset that let him communicate with the tactical force.

      Behind him, Max was barking out orders, as well. “Get me blueprints. I need an exact location of the meeting rooms on the second floor, all air-conditioning vents and the phone panel.”

      Techies raced into the room with TV monitors, both visual and audio devices and phone systems. Outside, barricades had gone up and the streets were swarming with firefighters and policemen. An ambulance pulled through the barricade. Just a precaution, he told himself. Just like Anna being here.

      He couldn’t believe Anna had chosen this day to begin work. All his fears seemed to be coming true. He had to diffuse this situation stat before someone got hurt and Max wanted to send Anna in.

      Max pulled him aside, moving the two of them to the northwest corner of the room to look kitty-corner across the street at city hall. Normally they would have set up the command center across the street from the incident. But with the police station so close, it made sense to set it up here.

      From the window Flint had a good view of the right wing and part of the back of the building. The large, old, white-stone building, U-shaped and three stories high, glistened in the sun, the windows like mirrors. Even at this angle, the back employee entrance was partially hidden from view by the oleander hedge. Nothing looked amiss. Nothing gave them any indication that a siege was going on inside.

      “I’ve ordered an evac of the area and the perimeter cleared for four blocks,” Max said.

      Flint looked at the chief in surprise. “Four blocks?”

      “We have the aide to the city council, Lorna Sinke, patched through dispatch. She says one of the subjects has an assault rifle.” He met Flint’s gaze. “The other has a homemade bomb duct-taped to his chest. I’ve put the bomb squad on notice. Unknown type.”

      Flint felt his heart drop. Oh, yeah, Anna had picked one hell of a day to start her new job. It would be a miracle if he and his team could defuse this crisis without anyone getting hurt and needing a paramedic.

      “Do we have any idea who these guys are or what they want?” Flint asked.

      “So far all we know is their names. Kenny and Lee. But Sinke says she thinks Lee’s name is Harper. She thinks he’s been at the city council

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