From Mission To Marriage. Lyn Stone

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to be called to duty in her place.

      “We’re burning daylight, Agent Walker. Let’s go,” Senate said, looking straight at her. She caught the almost undetectable hint of a smile in his eyes.

      Van gave herself a mental high five and barely contained a whoop. Instead, she calmly picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

      The urge to wink at Buddy and Joe almost overwhelmed her, but she refrained. Decorum had suddenly become important, at least until she was outside the building.

      On the way to the car, she gave him a pat on the arm and thanked him. He cut those steely gray eyes at her and Van got the distinct feeling she had overstepped again. Maybe he didn’t like to be touched.

      On the sixty-mile drive to Cool Spring, she kept her mouth shut except to thank him again, briefly and more circumspectly, for going to bat for her. He muttered that she was welcome and then concentrated on studying the written report of her interview with Lisa Yellowhorse that the chief had provided. Man, could this guy focus.

      He had great hair, wore it long and tied back neatly. Though he looked better than presentable in a business suit, she could easily imagine him on horseback, flying like the wind, dressed in feathers, loincloth, leggings and moccasins. She’d seen way too many movies. This guy could definitely play a Hollywood Indian.

      His features looked less Iroquois than Plains—sharp angles, square jaw, high cheekbones and a very slight hook to the nose. As large as he was, at least six-two and heavily muscled, he might even have Viking blood for all she knew. His size, height and those cool, gray eyes of his didn’t come out of the Indian gene pool. Neither did the five o’clock shadow he was wearing.

      She realized all of a sudden that she was physically attracted to him. Okay, more like bowled over. No point revealing that to him, however. He didn’t like her much and she was definitely not interested in mixing it up with a superior who probably could burn her career if she made a wrong move.

      Oh well, he was great to look at and she could enjoy that without feeling bad about it. She kept stealing glances while he was busy reading the report.

      He thumped the page with the back of his fingers. “Very detailed. Good work.”

      “Thanks.” Van enjoyed the unaccustomed thrill that came with praise, not something she had basked in very often since her college days. “Any questions?”

      “Your AIC isn’t convinced Hightower’s behind this. Are you certain Ms. Yellowhorse is being straight? Maybe she’s a disgruntled lover or just scared to have him living with her.”

      “Gut feeling,” she replied with a succinct nod. “And it all fits. Circumstantial at the moment, I know, but you’ll see I’m right.”

      He turned to look at her fully, remaining silent for a minute. “Tell me about your escapes.”

      She laughed. “My what?”

      “Roan told me you’ve pulled yourself out of the fire so many times, he feels the urge to bury you under a mountain of paperwork so you’ll survive to see thirty. Details, please. Start with the robbery you interrupted six months ago.”

      “He’s exaggerating,” she said with a scoff. “I dodged a few bullets, that’s all. The perps were lousy shots.”

      “But you’re obviously not,” he remarked with the ghost of a smile.

      Van shrugged. “I have a good eye. It’s probably inherited, but I’ve practiced a lot, too. My grandfather was a sniper in ’Nam. Taught me a few tricks.”

      “Enough to qualify for the Olympic team, apparently. What about the fire after that bomb went off in the casino? They thought you were trapped.”

      “It was jump off the roof or burn and it was only two stories, not necessarily a fatal leap. What would you have done?” Van hated talking about that. Fire was her worst nightmare and had nearly finished her off. She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand and flexed her left leg. “No serious injuries, thank goodness.”

      “And you saved two people by pushing them off that roof.”

      She shook her head impatiently. “Yeah, but I had to coldcock one and shove him off unconscious. Poor ol’Bobby Rock has a bad fear of heights. I worried that the fall would break his neck, but it was that or let him go up in smoke.”

      “What about last year, the hostage thing at the school? You did okay, Roan said. Hard to think with a gun to your head, but you managed to talk the perp into surrendering.”

      She made a face. “He was just a kid.”

      “With a .45 full of hollow points. You’ve faced death square in the face several times now. I’m interested. Which time destroyed your fear of it?”

      “Who says one did? But I will say this, I believe I’ve survived for a reason. I just don’t know what it is yet.”

      His look was intense when she glanced over at him.

      “Are you a loose cannon?” he asked quietly.

      She faced the road again. “No. If we get into a dicey situation, you can count on me to react appropriately. Are you worried?”

      “If you’re convinced that you’re destined to do something so great that a higher power is keeping you alive against all odds, then, yes, I am definitely worried.”

      She laughed. “Get real. Don’t you think I know God helps those who help themselves?”

      “So you’re religious?”

      “Most people in law enforcement are. Aren’t you?” she asked.

      “Let’s not get into that. Sorry I brought it up.”

      “Well, you did, so brief answer, please. Do you believe in that higher power you mentioned, yes or no?”

      He paused. “Yes, but if God’s a woman, she could change her mind on a whim. Maybe decide to let someone else perform whatever task you think you’re programmed to do, so I wouldn’t trust fate too far if I were you.”

      Van laughed, but it was a little bitter. “My, my, here I was thinking you’re so politically correct and then you come out with something weird like that. Women are inconstant, gods or not, huh?”

      “It was a joke to get you off the topic of religion.”

      “Well, you can forget comedy, my friend. Some chick dumped you, right? Now you’re down on the whole female gender.”

      He was hiding a smile, she could tell. “I’m thirty-six and unmarried. How do you know I ever liked women to begin with?”

      “Because when you checked out my breasts, your expression did not indicate envy,” she explained, her reaction deadpan.

      He laughed out loud. The sound was new and Van liked it. She was shaking up that stoic warrior image to hell and gone. It was what she did best, making men laugh. Even the boss unbent a little when he wasn’t ready to throttle her about something.

      “See? You’re

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