After Wes went over the grid scheme for the L.A. basin, pinpointing the largest skyscrapers that had been destroyed according to earlier reports, he began handing out assignments. Callie was able to give him one handler and dog for each of the twenty-two grid areas. He seemed pleased with her efficiency and ideas. Finally, at the end of the process, he wrapped up one roll of blueprints and tucked it beneath his arm.
“Okay, Lieutenant Evans, I’m assigning you to me. We’re going to the Hoyt Hotel in southern Los Angeles. It’s a fourteen-story structure that, according to the best intel we have, has completely collapsed. It was built in the 1920s, long before earthquake codes were in place, so I know it’s going to be one helluva hot spot. According to the local fire department in that area, that hotel was filled to the gills with party goers. It was one of the ‘in’ spots.” He searched her wide, flawless eyes. Her pupils were large and black, her lashes thick and long. Despite her height, or lack of it, he liked the set of her square jaw and the confidence in her demeanor. “You think you can handle it?”
Callie grinned back, once again receiving that green-eyed warmth from him. “No question about it, Lieutenant James. My dog and I can handle anything you throw at us. We’re vets of Turkey, Greece, Colombia and Mexico. This isn’t going to be any worse than that.” Or maybe it was and Callie just didn’t want to believe it.
Satisfied, Wes gestured for her to step ahead of him. “Good enough, Callie. I’ve got a Humvee outside. I want you to ride over to your H.Q., grab your dog and meet me at the airport. We have a Huey at our disposal to take me and my crew—and you—to our assigned grid area. Make it back as fast as you can?”
Callie nodded. “Yes, sir, I will.”
Before she hurried out, she saw Wes give her a slight, tired smile, concern burning in his eyes. This was a man who cared deeply, and that made her feel glad to be working with him. The urgency to help the thousands of victims out there thrummed through both of them, as well as the rest of the officer corps. This was worse than a war: no shots had been fired, but the death toll was going to be horrific, Callie thought.
She moved briskly toward the door at the rear of the room. Her hands were shaking. Her heart was beating hard in her chest as she trotted down the concrete steps to a dark brown and tan desert-camouflaged Humvee that waited for her at the bottom. The sky was just beginning to turn a turgid gray color. Soon, dawn would come. And soon they would all see the devastation that this quake of the century had caused.
As she rode over in the Humvee, down an asphalt road that was buckled in some places, but still functional, she clasped her hands together. Her attention seesawed from details of her duty to thoughts of the green-eyed officer with the warm, caring smile. He treated her as if he liked her—a lot. That was nonsense, of course. She was no looker. She wasn’t pretty in any sense. Just a plain Jane. So why had he given her that look? Oh, Callie recognized it well. She’d seen men give it to women thousands of times before—but never to her. Rubbing her hot cheek, Callie wondered if she were dreaming. But with the quake and all, it felt more like she was in the middle of a very bad nightmare, with Wes in the role of the hero she’d always dreamed about meeting. Shaking her head, Callie decided her emotions were skewed because of the quake and the awful disaster that surrounded them. That was it: she was in mild shock and completely misreading him.
Still, as she disembarked at her unit’s H.Q. and ran toward the kennel to retrieve Dusty, Callie’s heart thumped hard in her chest—and it wasn’t from fear. No, it was in anticipation of working with Lieutenant Wes James. He liked her and she knew it. And she found that amazing.
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