her discarded clothing into the back of the SUV, holstered her .38 Ruger and closed the rear door as quietly as possible. “You’d better get changed, too. Your white shirt kind of stands out.”
That wasn’t a lie, even if mostly she was trying to get rid of him. Earlier she’d seen he had on well-worn jeans and a snug-fitting white T-shirt that revealed powerful biceps and pecs. The better to advertise, she’d thought cynically.
“Listen to sense, will you? You being there will distract the rest of us. We’ll all be worried about keeping you safe.”
Was she supposed to be touched? she wondered wearily. “No, Clay, you won’t all be distracted. Astonishingly enough, Captain McAllister and Chief Raynor, at least, respect my abilities. And you know what? I’d really like it if you wouldn’t worry about me.”
He made an inarticulate sound of frustration, snapped, “On your head be it,” and stomped away.
Jane didn’t move to follow him immediately. Instead she gazed toward the dark pasture and struggled to center herself. Pictured the small window she had studied earlier through binoculars. Began to walk herself step-by-step through what she had to do. Shatter the glass. Toss in a flash bang. Sweep the shards off the frame. Hoist herself—
“Is Sergeant Renner going to be a problem?” asked Captain Colin McAllister from only a few feet away.
She gasped and swung to face him. “Damn. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“I can see why,” he said drily.
It was Colin who last year had promoted her to lieutenant, heading the investigative division directly beneath him. Colin, a man who bore some physical resemblance to Clay Renner, enough to, on occasion, push her buttons.
Well, he’d never looked twice at her, not that way. The upside was he treated her with unwavering respect for her abilities. Downside? She was thirty-four years old and had yet to meet a man who treated her with respect and wanted her as a woman. She’d begun to suspect it wasn’t happening.
And was that so bad? She loved her job, and the relationships she’d tried to have had left her pretty sour on men anyway.
“Did you hear all that?” she asked.
“Afraid so. I didn’t want to interrupt. Sorry. When you recommended Sergeant Renner for this team, I didn’t realize you had a history.”
“Not much of one.” She shrugged to suggest how little she cared. “Impulse on both our parts. As you may have gathered, he’s a sexist pig.”
Colin chuckled. “Or intensely protective of you.”
She felt like a cap had been pulled out of a bottle of champagne—or a bottle rocket. “So protective,” she said fiercely, “I walked into the squad room to hear him describing my, er, attributes and telling everyone in earshot what he intended to do to me.”
She could make out his grimace. “Yeah, that would do it.”
Feeling sick, Jane said, “Now, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“I assumed you took some guff, being a woman in a field that’s still primarily male and testosterone driven. Let’s say I’m not surprised. Disappointed in Sergeant Renner, though.” He shook his head. “He’s been strictly professional here.”
“I wouldn’t have suggested we call him if I hadn’t been confident he would be.”
Colin pushed a button on his watch and it briefly lit up. “Less than an hour. You okay with your role?”
“You mean, going in the window? Sure.”
“Good enough.” He nodded and melted away, leaving her with a whole lot of regrets involving both men. Why couldn’t there be one man who both wanted and respected her?
* * *
CLAY WISHED HE’D been feeding Jane a load of crap, but the truth was, he didn’t think he was going to be able to turn off his awareness that she was one of the first members of the assault team in. Maybe the first member.
Jane Vahalik, no more than five foot four. Jane, with a sweet face and an incredibly lush body. A centerfold body, not a tough-as-nails cop body.
And, goddamn it, he knew she was good. She’d spent time on the multijurisdictional drug enforcement team, so this sure as hell wasn’t the first raid she’d participated in. From what he’d heard, she had played a solid part in the ugly stuff that had gone down last year in Angel Butte that had resulted in the police chief resigning in disgrace and a succession of reputedly crooked officers getting the ax. There was no way she’d earned the promotion to lieutenant by sleeping with her boss, as he’d heard suggested. If nothing else, Colin McAllister had the reputation as a straight arrow. Plus, he’d been living with another woman, one whom he had since married.
Knowing all of that didn’t help. Clay had been raised to believe in traditional gender roles. His father was a domineering man, his mother gentle and clearly subservient. Clay supported equal rights and never had any trouble working with women. But he’d tended to date women who didn’t challenge him in any meaningful way, and in his hazy view of the future, he saw a wife who’d stay at home with the kids, making her life about him.
He still didn’t know why he found Jane, a woman who’d excelled in a macho profession, so compelling. But, damn it, she’d gotten to him from the first time he’d met her. He’d liked her. He’d been living for the chance to get her into his bed. The really shitty part was, he’d deserved to be dumped. He still winced at the memory of having let himself be goaded into talking about her as if she was nothing but another piece of ass while bragging about his own sexual prowess. That moment—when he’d turned and seen her face—was one of the worst of his life.
That was it. She turned and walked out. He’d left groveling messages on her voice mail. She hadn’t returned them. Pride and his own awareness that the wrongdoing was his kept him from leaning on her doorbell. Also, as a cop, he was especially sensitive to any behavior that would smack of stalking.
He’d spotted her from a distance a few times, but when she’d seen him, she’d turned in the other direction. The closest had been one day in the corridor at the courthouse. The way her expression had gone blank when their eyes met had hit him hard.
And yes, he knew he should have kept his mouth shut tonight. He had kept his mouth shut while he, Raynor, McAllister and Jane, as the ranking officers, had planned the assault. He wouldn’t embarrass her like that.
But if he had to see her go down—
Clay swore softly under his breath as he ripped off his white T-shirt and pulled on a black one followed by the vest, which he topped with a black windbreaker that said POLICE across the back.
It might kill him if he saw her reeling back, blood blossoming. If he had to watch as the light went out of her hazel eyes.
He swore again, more savagely this time. He might really die if he couldn’t keep his head in the game.
And he didn’t know if he could do it.
Clay never liked waiting. This time was worse than usual. Jane was at the top of his list of reasons he hated everything about this operation,
