Chapter 1

Rory MacDermot did not cool his heels well at all. He paced up and down the hallway, resisting the urge to put his fist through the wall at the far end of his path. Instead, he executed a precise about-face and stalked back to the other end. For a man whose business depended on patience, he had absolutely none at the moment. The little blonde receptionist stuck her head out of the doorway and waited until he drew even with her.

“Are you sure you won’t come in and sit down? Can I get you something to drink?” Her hesitant voice rose at the end of each sentence, making a question of everything. “Dr. Burns won’t be too much longer? She just called to say she was on her way?”

He shook his head. The last thing he needed was more caffeine. As it was, adrenaline zinged through his body, snapping across muscles and nerve endings as it passed. “I can’t wait much longer. I have stuff I need to do.”

The blonde looked apprehensive. “You have to stay until the doctor gets back.” She tried to sound insistent, but it came out as a plea.

Normally, he would have felt some pity for the girl, but today? Nope. Wasn’t happening. This was the last place he wanted to be. In fact, it pissed him off royally. He didn’t need further debriefing. Not now. Not ever. He watched the little receptionist cower away from him. Catching a glimpse of his face in the glass window in the door, he understood why. His scowl made him look like a mad man. Angry, he amended. He wasn’t mad. Or crazy. Rory scrubbed a hand across his face. He had to admit he did look haggard. But considering his lack of sleep, his appearance was understandable.

“Look, this is a really bad idea. I need to be somewhere else, doing something else. Tell the doctor I’ll call to reschedule.” He turned on his heel, stalked down the hallway, and made it as far as the elevator before his pager went off. “Damn.” The curse came out like a sigh, muttered under his breath. A call out. His team had been activated. The little blonde still stood at the entry to the doctor’s office, watching. “See? I just got paged out to an incident.” He didn’t wait for the elevator, turning instead to the door marked “STAIRS.” He bumped it with his shoulder, pushed through, and took the stairs two at a time.

The adrenaline surge he’d been fighting since arriving at the doctor’s office ramped up another notch. Action. That’s what he needed. Not sitting penned up in some therapist’s office, puking his guts out to her about an incident that couldn’t be changed, couldn’t be fixed, and shouldn’t be erased.

Reaching the first floor, Rory bounced the bar on the stairwell door. It slammed open and he stood, hesitating for just a moment. Noon. The place teemed with office drones. One part of his brain registered the fact they looked like ants after their hill was disturbed. He, however, had to cross the lobby of the office building. He stepped into the crush of bodies. With the ease of a running back dodging tacklers, he executed a broken-field run through the crowd and made it out into the humid air of the hot August day. He snagged his cell phone, punching the autodial even as he jogged for the corner.

His partner picked up on the second ring. “Scotty, I’m at Airline and Montgomery. Grab my gear. I’ll meet the truck at the scene.” He listened for a moment, his trot slowing to a walk before he halted completely. “That’s bullshit, man. Tell the captain I’m coming anyway. New Boy isn’t ready.” His hand clenched the phone, his grip so tight the electronic device almost cracked. “Just bring my gear, Scott. I’ll deal with Captain Davis.” Flipping the phone closed, he jammed it in his hip pocket.

“Great. Just fucking great,” he snarled, unaware he spoke aloud until a little old lady thumped him with her handbag.

“Watch your language, young man,” she chastised him primly.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” He didn’t stop to see if the grandmotherly woman accepted his insincere apology. He’d parked his truck around the corner, lucky to find a space on the street. Turning the corner, he kicked his jog up a couple of gears and sprinted to his pride and joy. The big four-wheel drive pickup was rigged to run and looked completely out of place on this urban street.

Rory dug his keys out and hit the fob, deactivating the door locks with a loud beep. The meter maid taking down his license plate number jumped. She marched around the back of his truck, glaring at him.

“You did that on purpose!”

Under normal circumstances, her accusatory tone would have him teasing and bantering with her. Today, though, he was a man on a mission. “Sergeant Rory MacDermot,” he announced. In a smooth and practiced gesture, he pulled his wallet from his hip pocket and flipped it open. “SWAT. I’m headed to a call out.”

“Oh no you aren’t, big boy.” The meter maid fisted her hands on her hips and scowled up at him. The drab brown uniform did little to hide her curvaceous figure, and her dark eyes snapped as she blinked rapidly. “You are twenty minutes out of time on this meter, and I’m in the process of writing you up. You are not going any place until I finish writing this ticket and you sign it. You think I was born yesterday?” She shook her head and muttered under her breath. “That badge don’t mean nothing to me. Flashing it like a get out of jail card. Humph.”

Rory shoved his badge wallet back in his pocket and pulled out a couple of ten-dollar bills from the front pocket. As he approached, she opened her ticket book and returned to filling out the form. He never broke stride as he tucked the money in the book and closed it. “To pay the ticket. And remind me to send you chocolate.” He paused, reading the name placket on her uniform. Pasting his most devastating smile on his face, he added, “Officer Ramirez.”

Before she could recover, he was in his truck and pulling out into traffic. Glancing in his rear view mirror, he realized she hadn’t moved—that she stood in the same spot staring after him. He gunned the accelerator to pull around a slower car. He was less than a mile from the incident. Hopefully, he would arrive at the same time as the SWAT truck with his gear. His heart raced for a moment and then settled down to the steady thump-thump-thump of its normal rhythm. He lived for this. Always had. First in the Marines and now with the police department.

Uniformed patrol officers had the street blocked off. He pulled up behind one of the squad cars and left the truck parked in the middle of the lane. He climbed out, and his badge appeared in his hand. As it turned out, he didn’t need his ID. The first street cop he met flashed a grin of recognition and lifted the flapping crime scene tape stretched across the road.

“Howdy, Rory. You must have been close.”

He ducked under the tape and nodded. “About a mile away.”

Both of them turned at the sound of a growling diesel engine. The SWAT truck rumbled up, men spilling from the back before it even rolled to a jerky stop. Rory ducked back under the tape, intent on retrieving his gear. Captain Davis stepped down from the front passenger seat, effectively blocking his way.

“Just where do you think you’re going, MacDermot?” The captain barked the question, and Rory was reminded once again how much the man, with his jowly cheeks and narrowed eyes, resembled a bulldog. “If I’m not mistaken, you are still on mandatory administrative leave. Until you have the paperwork from the consult, you aren’t cleared for duty.”

Rory lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I went. The doc didn’t show up. Then I got the page.” He stepped closer, invading the older man’s space. Lowering his voice, he added, “Look, captain, we both know I’m fine. New Boy isn’t ready. He’s never been tested, and this isn’t the time to find out if he has the cojones for this job.” He recognized the flicker of doubt in the captain’s eyes and pressed home his advantage. “My gear’s in the truck. Let me suit up, cap’n. I’ll take New Boy with me. Watch him and evaluate. But if push comes to shove, the shot is mine.” He schooled his expression. It wouldn’t do to let Captain Davis see how important this was, how desperate he was to get back to his job.

Davis stepped back so he didn’t have to crane his neck so much to look up at Rory. “Every instinct I have is screamin’ at me, boy. I should kick your ass out of here and send you back to wait on that doctor.”

Despite the huge smile blooming inside, Rory maintained his poker-faced expression. “But you won’t. You know I’m right about New Boy.”

Davis actually sighed. “Yeah. I know. Get your gear while I find out what the hell is going on here.”

Rory dashed to the back of the SWAT vehicle and climbed inside. All alone, he let the smile appear. He stripped down and pulled on his jumpsuit, bullet proof vest, boots, and grabbed his sniper rifle. He pretended his hands weren’t shaking as he loaded the weapon. Gulping in a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and emerged from the truck. His team clustered nearby, but he simply nodded to them and headed off to find Captain Davis. He didn’t miss the scowl New Boy flashed in his direction. Sooner or later, he would have a come-to-Jesus meeting with the kid. But not today. Today he had a different mission. He found Davis talking to the patrol division supervisor, a lieutenant, who’d been in charge before Metro SWAT arrived. The lieutenant was just finishing his briefing.

“The first unit on the scene was only two blocks away when the silent alarm went out. As he pulled up, a teen-age boy ran out the door. Shots were fired so the officer grabbed the kid and ducked. As near as we can tell, there are two perps and five hostages, one of them a baby or toddler. The victim who escaped mentioned two clerks, and two women with a child in a stroller.” The LT snorted. “Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The kid walked in on the robbery. He took one look and high-tailed it out of there.”

Rory winced at the mention of the hostages but steeled his emotions and his expression before either man saw him. As Davis turned his direction, he was already scanning nearby rooftops looking for the best firing position. “Is there any way they can get out the back of the store?”

The lieutenant shook his head. “Only way in or out is through the front door. Back door is blocked by the Dumpster. Go figure.” He shrugged and continued. “They attempted to close the blinds on the window but something happened.” He turned and pointed to a shop in the middle of the small strip center. Metal blinds hung askew, one end jacked higher than the other.

He could feel Captain Davis’s gaze on him as he studied the layout. He pulled a pair of small binoculars from his flak vest and searched the area carefully. When he focused on the window, he could discern vague movement beyond the glass. Lowering the binoculars, he glanced up at the sun. In another hour, the sun’s reflection on the window would make seeing inside the shop all but impossible.

Davis squinted up at the sun, too. “Maybe there’s common crawl space. We could set up inside.”

Rory growled under his breath. “We couldn’t get that lucky.”

The captain’s growl echoed his. “Take Carter and set up your firing position. I’ll establish communications. Maybe we can negotiate.”

A bark of laughter erupted before Rory could stop it. “Yeah, and maybe the Cubs will win the World Series.” He turned on his heel and returned to the SWAT team. He filled them in and gave them their assignments. “Dutch, report to the captain for communications liaison. Andy and Luke, take the rear just in case. LT swears the front is the only egress. Let’s not get caught with our pants down if he’s wrong.” He nodded to the single female on the team and the big man standing next to her. “Jessie, Hoss, take the front. Scotty, across the street for low cover.” Rory glanced at Dean Carter, the newest member of the team. The kid bounced on his toes while his fingers alternately clutched and caressed his sniper rifle. “New Boy, with me.”

Within minutes, Rory selected his vantage point on the roof across the street from the shop. He motioned for New Boy to set up about ten feet away so they’d have two angles. With an ease of motion born of countless hours of practice, Rory set up his sniper rifle and settled in to wait. This is what he did best, this waiting patiently for a target to appear in his scope. Stretched out on the black-tar roof, eye to his scope, cheek resting against the butt of his rifle, Rory let his breath out. Slow. Inhale just as slow, lungs expanding to capacity, diaphragm stretched and almost aching before the release of air, just as deliberate. Breathe. His heart rate spiked briefly before calming to a steady beat. Had he realized he was smiling, he would have been surprised.

“Target team Alpha set.” His calm voice whispered through the microphone attached to his radio earpiece. Cutting his eyes to the left, he glanced over at New Boy. Sweat dotted the kid’s forehead, soaking through the band of his cap. Rory’s upper lip curled in contempt. He switched off the voice activation on his radio. Without moving his head, he said a bit louder, “Relax. We’re going to be here awhile.”

“I know.” Carter sounded defensive.

“Then why are you sweating?” Rory wasn’t in the mood to be nice.

“It’s hot out here.”

There it was, he thought, the New Boy whine. He should trademark the description. “And it’ll get hotter yet.” Rory had done his time as a field training officer. He didn’t relish repeating the experience, especially since this pup wanted his job. “Once the sun goes down, it’ll get cold. And you’ll get thirsty. Or hungry. You’ll need to piss, too, so you’d better learn to hold it.” He heard movement, the faint brush of whipcord material against tar paper. He cut his eyes as New Boy swiveled to face him and then immediately returned his focus to the scope and the scene playing out across the street.

“I can outlast you, dickhead.”

Rory snorted. “Yeah, you and your little dog, too, Dorothy.”

The radio whispered in his ear. “Any movement?”

“Negative,” Rory replied after switching the radio back to voice activation.

“Negotiator will be here shortly.”

“Roger that.”

He heard more rustling as Carter settled back into position. Sooner or later, the kid would push one too many of his buttons. Even though he knew his team would stand behind him and help put Carter in his place, deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Internal discipline on the team was crucial. A loose cannon only complicated matters, but if push came to shove, he was ready.

“Bravo Team in position.” Luke’s voice whispered in his ear. Rory could picture Luke and Andy taking up their positions on the back side of the strip. “Nothing but Dumpsters back here. LT’s right. Rear door is blocked.” Luke paused for a few seconds and Rory knew he was taking in the scenery. His earpiece clicked. “Looks like firewalls between each shop. No way to go inside high.”

Damn. He didn’t utter the curse out loud, but it echoed in his head. They’d be losing visuals soon.

“Charlie Team in position.” Jessie’s voice fluttered in his earpiece, interrupting his thought pattern. He grinned. She might look and sound all soft and cuddly, but she could take down any guy on the team, including Hoss. Hard on the heels of her acknowledgement came Scotty’s as he announced he’d taken up a spot just below the sniper team, but slightly off to one side, using a pickup for cover.

Now all they needed was the man who did the talking. With luck, the negotiator could keep the perps engaged until the sun moved far enough toward the horizon so he’d have a clear view. Ultimately, Rory hoped the negotiator could do his job and talk them out. He shivered despite the heat and then tamped down on his emotions again.

His right index finger caressed the trigger like a lover.

Breathe. He was ready.

Dammit, he was always ready.