shirt and dark trousers of his uniform hung and clung to a lean but powerful frame, and Charlotte was getting a good view as she trotted down the stairs behind him. The awareness of such masculinity was irritating. It wasn’t attraction, just…awareness, but that in itself was disconcerting. Easily dismissed, though. Charlotte hadn’t been remotely attracted to any man since Jamie. And she wasn’t about to be now.
Hawk held the heavy door at the end of the next short corridor open and waited for Charlotte to pass him. She did so without thanking him for the courtesy. Would he have done that if he was leading the way for a male colleague?
‘My squad car’s here.’ Hawk wrenched the door open. ‘Our car,’ he corrected himself grudgingly. He glanced briefly at Charlotte—the first eye contact since their introduction. ‘You do drive?’ he queried.
‘Of course.’ Charlotte slid into the passenger seat of the station wagon and reached for her safety belt.
‘Advanced driving, I meant. Have you had emergency response training?’
‘Of course,’ Charlotte repeated. ‘I’d hardly be in a position to do this job if I hadn’t, would I?’
Hawk didn’t bother responding. He activated the car’s beacons and had the siren going as soon as they cleared the ramp from the basement garage. More than one car on the busy road skidded slightly as the drivers braked hard. Hawk slipped the squad car into the gap and then cruised into the middle of the road, putting his foot down on the accelerator as he shot forward between the opposing lines of early morning, inner-city traffic. He knew precisely how well he could do this and he knew he was better than most. Even well-seasoned officers were known to go a little pale when they were his passengers in an emergency response and Hawk had no inclination to tone things down for Charlie.
He stole a sideways glance after negotiating a particularly narrow gap between a crowded bus and a concrete-mixing truck. The faces flashing past in the bus had shown horror at the gap of only inches between the vehicles. Charlotte, however, looked unperturbed.
‘What are we going to?’ she asked.
‘Car versus lamppost that appears to have been fatal. There was bystander CPR on the driver getting started when the call came in.’
‘Driver collapse, maybe?’
‘I don’t make assumptions before I arrive at a scene.’
‘Do you need a map reference?’ Charlotte’s tone was now as clipped as his had been.
‘No.’
Hawk concentrated on negotiating a rapid route through increasingly snarled-up traffic. An accident at this time of day had a surprisingly wide-reaching flow-on effect. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising. Throw a stationary fire truck or two and an ambulance into even a three-laned highway and there wasn’t much space to channel traffic through. There would be police cars as well with officers trying to keep the scene clear and directing irritated motorists to a new route if possible.
Hawk was feeling a little irritated himself. The early callout had presented a welcome opportunity to delay the inevitable meeting with his new partner. He hadn’t expected the mid-corridor ambush but he knew better than to refuse a direction from Lance Currie unless he had a very good reason. His boss had held the senior position at Grisham Street station for many years. He was known behind his back as Elsie, and the nickname was appropriate for more than his initials. Currie was a bit of an old woman when it came to following regulations, observing protocols and dotting every ‘i’ on paperwork. If he’d decided Hawk was to take his new partner out on the job then it wouldn’t have been worth the repercussions if he’d refused.
Charlotte Laing had been even more unexpected than the ambush. Any hope that the potential distraction of working with a woman would be mitigated by her unattractiveness had been felled in a somewhat gut-wrenching swoop. This woman would turn heads anywhere. The only saving grace was that she was totally unlike the type of women Hawk preferred. He liked his female companions to be fun and they were invariably blonde, curvy and at least a little bit bouncy. Fluff, in other words. Charlotte Laing was as tall and slim as a pencil. Long, straight black hair twisted into a rope that only narrowed as it reached her waist. Her features were defined enough to appear almost sharp and her olive skin hinted at some exotic bloodline in her family tree. She looked, Hawk had to admit, like some native American princess and the overall effect was unusual enough to have been startling.
Hawk turned off the siren as their progress slowed to a crawl. He eased the car onto a footpath to skirt a line of cars that had no hope of manoeuvring to let them through. Pedestrians flattened themselves against a fence as a blip on the siren warned them what was happening. Hawk could see the flashing lights of other emergency vehicles in the distance but even now it was hard to concentrate solely on the task ahead of them.
It was more than irritating. Hawk had only been in her company for about ten minutes and it was already proving difficult to fight the distraction. He’d never seen anyone like her. On the positive side, being thrown into a job with her meant that he couldn’t escape. The startling effect would wear off more quickly and at least he knew there was no possibility of being distracted by a genuine attraction to the woman. No hint of bounce there. Or even a sense of femininity. Charlotte’s clear, golden-brown eyes advertised steely determination and a brain that was active enough to mean he needed to stay on his toes. That game-playing scenario with their names hadn’t gone over her head and Hawk had the uncomfortable feeling that he hadn’t actually scored any points at all.
A police officer let Hawk’s vehicle through the cordon and pointed towards a potential parking area behind a fire truck. An ambulance was parked at right angles to the fire appliance, its back doors open towards the car crumpled against the concrete post. Hawk glanced at the body lying between the ambulance officers. The man’s clothing had been cut to expose his chest. A male paramedic was taping an IV line to one arm. He lifted his hands and leaned back on his heels as the other paramedic pressed paddles onto the victim’s chest. Hawk grimaced at the convulsive jerk their patient made.
‘Doesn’t look very good,’ he muttered.
‘They’re defibrillating him so at least there’s some sign of cardiac electrical activity.’
‘What?’ Hawk’s head swivelled. He’d forgotten he wasn’t with someone who knew as little as he did about medical matters. ‘I thought they only zapped people if the heart had stopped. Flat-line stuff.’
‘Shocking someone can only interrupt and potentially reset the electrical activity. If there’s a flat line on the screen it means there’s no signal present so shocking someone isn’t going to do anything other than burn a bit of heart muscle.’
‘Oh.’ Hawk didn’t enjoy feeling ignorant. In future, he was going to keep his mouth shut and save himself a lecture.
‘The heart has stopped in that it’s not functioning as a pump, though,’ Charlotte added. ‘It’s usually fibrillating, which is a kind of fast wiggle that can’t produce an output—which is what creates a pulse.’
‘So that’s why it’s called a defibrillator.’ The annoyance of having his lack of knowledge exposed was replaced by a flash of satisfaction in learning something new. Hawk shook his head. ‘I’d never even thought about it.’
‘Why should you have? We gain expertise in what we’re trained in.’
‘Exactly.’ Hawk’s glance at Charlotte was speculative. ‘So are we going to get on with our job or do you want
