Lena Diaz - Swat Standoff

Good grief, what was wrong with her? She was obviously more tired than she’d thought. And the day’s events had made her emotions raw. Blake the police officer she could handle. Blake the sexy, nice, attentive man sitting across from her—holding her hand—was draining her IQ points by the second. If she didn’t do something fast, she’d start stuttering and batting her eyelashes at him. Or worse, lunge across the couch and find out once and for all if he was the excellent kisser that she’d always fantasized that he would be.

His brows crinkled with concern. “Donna? Are you okay? You look flushed.” He reached toward her face as if to check her for a fever.

She jerked back and yanked her hand free. Popping up from the couch, she said the first thing that flashed into her mind. “I have to pee.”

His eyes widened.

She groaned and sprinted from the room.

* * *

WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED? Blake stared at the empty spot on the couch beside him where Donna had been sitting just seconds earlier. Obviously he’d upset her, or she wouldn’t have run out of the room like that. But other than an apology, he couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to make things worse.

He blew out a frustrated breath and stood. He was too agitated to keep sitting on the couch, so he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. Now that he’d delivered his pathetic apology, with disastrous results, he wasn’t even sure whether he should hang around to tell her the other reason that he was here. After all, there were dozens of explanations for his concerns—all of which seemed valid and far more likely than the insane scenario that kept running through his head. Maybe he should have started with the scenario and skipped the apology part. But he’d been worried that she’d be too angry to listen if he didn’t smooth things over first.

A lot of good that had done.

He checked his watch. Thirty minutes to midnight on a Saturday. This was silly. He should just go home and try to sleep off the aftereffects of a very nasty hangover that was already making his head pound in spite of the aspirin he’d taken. Everything was bound to look different in the morning. His concerns would be proven false, and everyone would go about their lives like normal.

Except for him.

Nothing had been normal in his life for a very long time.

“Blake.”

He turned to see Donna standing by the recliner, her brow lined with worry. He cleared his throat and stepped over to her. “Whatever I did, if my apology somehow offended you, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“What? No, no. You did nothing wrong. It was just...” She shook her head. “Forget it. It was something stupid. Nothing to worry about. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Then we’re good? You’re not upset with me?”

“I’m upset that you got yourself fired. And I’ll be really upset if you don’t try to talk to Dillon to get your job back. Maybe if you just apologize to him, explain your side—”

“That’s why I’m here. I mean, other than trying to fix things between you and me. I came here because I did try to contact Dillon. I wanted to meet with him, just the two of us, and talk this thing out.”

“Oh, well, that’s great. We’re supposed to go back to Hawkins Ridge for another exercise in the morning, around nine. Maybe you could go up there and talk to him then, while the rest of us are getting everything set up.” She frowned. “Why are you giving me a funny look? What’s wrong?”

“It could be nothing.”

“Tell me.”

Lightning flashed off in the distance, illuminating the front windows. A distant boom of thunder followed. And still, he couldn’t seem to force the words out. The longer he stood there, the more he felt like he’d jumped the gun. The whiskey and his hangover were dulling his brain, not to mention the lateness of the hour.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Forget it. It’s stupid. I’ll do what you said, try to catch Dillon in the morning before your training session. Sorry I bothered you so late.” He circled around her and headed for the door. He’d just flipped the dead bolt and was reaching for the doorknob when she grabbed it instead. He looked at her in question.

“You’re not leaving yet. Something bothered you enough to come over here close to midnight to talk to me. It wasn’t just to tell me you were sorry. What’s going on? Talk to me.”

He dropped his hand and shook his head. “Forget it. I’m sure it’s just the storm interfering with signals. Or maybe they’re all too ticked at me to answer. I ignored dozens of texts and calls from you, and it didn’t mean I needed help.”

“Blake, if you don’t start making sense, I swear I’m going to shoot you.”

By the irritated look on her face, he didn’t doubt that she would. He let out a deep breath and prepared himself for her laughter. “Dillon’s missing.”

She blinked. Then blinked again.

“See?” he said. “Told you it was stupid. It’s nonsense. I went off half-cocked and still half-drunk and imagined all sorts of crazy things. I’m sure he’s fine.” He reached for the doorknob, motioning for her to move her hand.

She suddenly stood on her tiptoes, leaned in close and sniffed.

He jerked back. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing if I can smell whiskey on your breath.”

He gritted his teeth. “I’m not drunk. I haven’t touched a drop since you left me at the bar.”

“And yet you said that Dillon’s missing. What does that mean?”

The smile hovering on her lips had him feeling even more ridiculous. “I wanted to talk to him, like I said. So as soon as I sobered up, I called, both cell phone and radio. He didn’t answer.”

She shrugged. “Why would he? He fired you. I doubt he ever wants to talk to you again. Which is why you need to go see him in person—”

“I did. I went to his horse ranch. He wasn’t there. Neither was his wife and daughter. The guy who oversees the operations—”

“Griffin.”

He nodded. “Griffin. He said Mrs. Gray and her daughter had gone off on some cruise. But he didn’t know where Dillon was. He figured he was still in the woods, conducting training exercises.”

“What time was this?”

“Close to nine, I imagine.”

She glanced past him, probably to the wall clock that he’d noticed over the TV earlier. “It’s way too late to try calling him again. I’m sure he’s okay, though. Dillon’s one of the most capable men I know. He—”

“I called Randy, too.”

“Okay. What did he say about Dillon?”

“Nothing. Randy didn’t answer his phone either.”

Her brow furrowed. “That’s not like him. Even if he was upset, which is a rare thing for him, he wouldn’t have ignored your call.”

“That was my thought, too. So I called Max. Then Chris. I even tried the chief, on his home phone. No one answered any of my calls. I would have at least expected the chief’s wife to answer.”

She shook her head. “She’s on the cruise with Ashley. All the team’s wives went—Dillon’s wife, Ashley, and their baby, the chief’s wife, Claire, Max’s wife, Bex, and Chris’s wife, Julie. It’s a law-enforcement family cruise some charity put together, a getaway for the families who do so much to support their law-enforcement loved ones. That’s how it was advertised, anyway. That’s why Dillon scheduled the training this weekend. I could have sworn you knew all this. Scenic Cruises? Out of Miami? It was organized by some charity group out of Knoxville. I’m sure Dillon mentioned it.”

“I’m sure he mentions lots of things to you. He and I rarely speak unless he’s ordering me around or telling me I screwed up.” He waved his hand in the air. “Forget it. That’s not the point. I tried calling all of them tonight. No one answered. It’s highly likely that they’re ignoring me because of what happened today, and I overreacted. But I couldn’t ignore it without letting you know. Just in case.”