Man With The Muscle. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ a rich daddy’s girl like her and a streetwise cop like him. She probably owned shoes that cost more than his monthly salary. Unless she went slumming for some secret kind of sex life, he could guarantee that a former gang member turned weapons and recon specialist for KCPD wasn’t the kind of guy she’d even deign to notice—much less want to connect with.

      And an attorney who lacked the cojones to go after Smith and win wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted to be with anyway, right?

      Carrying the oversize pretzel bowl in one hand, Alex made his way between a row of booths and two pool tables, sparing a moment to trade winks with a cool blonde. That was who he should be gettin’ the hots for. She was interested, willing—and not responsible for bringing Demetrius Smith to justice. But he moved on with a thanks-but-no-thanks smile when giggles and chatter erupted around her table. Too perky. Too easy. While Alex wasn’t averse to spending time with a beautiful woman, he just wasn’t in the mood for light and playful and meaningless tonight.

      Besides, he had a feeling that if he didn’t deliver these snacks soon, he’d drop even further down that invisible hierarchy of prove-you-deserve-to-be-here attitude he got from the members of his team.

      “Pretzels are up,” Alex announced, setting the bowlon the table and sliding it to the middle. “Josie’s bringing the drinks.”

      “Thanks, shrimp.” Joseph Jones, Jr., nicknamed Triple J and often shortened to Trip, stuck a finger into the thick paperback book he was reading and helped himself to a handful of the salty twists.

      So Alex was only five-ten. He hated the nickname Trip had stuck him with. Of course, as tall and powerfully built as the tank-size Trip was, anyone under six feet probably seemed small. “At least my mama knew more than one letter of the alphabet when she was coming up with names.”

      Trip looked up from his book as the others, including Holden Kincaid on his cell phone beside him, laughed. “Good one, peewee.”

      Yeah. Like that was better than shrimp.

      “Thank Josie.” Alex pulled out a chair and took a seat between Sergeant Delgado and Captain Cutler. “She saw us on the news. She wouldn’t take my money.”

      “What? Hell.” Rafe Delgado glanced over his shoulder at the bar where Josie and her uncle, the Shamrock’s owner, Robbie Nichols, were busy serving drinks. “She can’t afford that.”

      “I left a twenty in the tip jar for her,” Alex assured him.

      “Can’t even get one lousy order straight,” he grumbled. The lanky, dark-haired sergeant spun his chair around and shoved it under the table. “I’m going to see if I can at least save her the trip over here.”

      “She’s the one who offered to—”

      But Rafe was already striding away. Alex turned at the strong hand that squeezed his shoulder. Captain Cutler’s typically stoic expression was eased by a fatherly smile. “Let him go, son. It’s not personal.”

      The reprimand sure felt as if he’d insulted Josie in some way. And he hadn’t meant to. “I paid her for the drinks, I swear.”

      “I know you did. And somewhere under the strain of having that boy die in his arms this afternoon, he knows it, too.” Cutler swatted Alex’s shoulder and pulled away, including the other two men at the table with them in his explanation for the sergeant’s abrupt departure. “Josie’s a hell of a lot prettier to look at than any of you. With what we’ve been through today, I don’t blame Rafe for choosing her company over your ugly mugs.”

      “Sarge likes her?” Alex asked.

      “I think it’s more of an overprotective big brother thing,” Cutler explained. “His first partner when he joined KCPD out of the academy was her dad. He’s watched her grow up.”

      “So no hitting on Josie or Delgado will cut you off at the knees, shrimp.” In one smooth motion, Trip pointed a warning finger at Alex and scooped up half the pretzels remaining in the bowl. He glanced over the top of his book. “And you can’t afford to be any shorter.”

      Alex flicked a pretzel across the table, hitting Trip in the middle of his forehead. The book went down on the table. Alex caught the pretzel that came flying back at him and crushed it in his fist, crumbling the dregs down into the bowl.

      “Oh, you da man, Taylor.”

      “That’s right, big guy. I’m the man.”

      “Children …” Captain Cutler warned with a smirk of his own.

      Alex’s and Trip’s respective pretzels were dutifully stuffed into their own mouths. The silliness of the interchange lightened Alex’s mood, and while Trip went back to reading with a grin, Alex turned to spot Sergeant Delgado plucking the tray of beers from Josie’s hands and trying to squeeze a word in through the argument his actions triggered.

      They were finally shaking off the grim events of the day. SWAT Team One was going to be okay. Alex was fitting in. No one was on his case for being too new, too young, too short—too lucky to have this job because he was a Taylor—too anything. He shifted his shoulders inside the black cotton sweater and leather jacket he wore and relaxed against his chair.

      “Liza said to tell everyone hi.” Sharpshooter Holden ended the call to his wife and set his cell phone on the table. “I’m leaving after the first drink. I have orders to come home with cookie dough ice cream or not to show up at all.” He tapped his cell phone and grinned in a boyishly excited way that belied his ability to go stone-cold still to make a kill shot or bring down a suspect. “With the way her appetite’s kicking into high gear, I think we could be having the baby any day now.”

      Captain Cutler chewed around a pretzel as he spoke. “I thought Liza wasn’t due until Christmas.”

      “It’s practically Thanksgiving already.”

      “In two weeks. You’re hopeless, Kincaid.”

      “Oh, and when you and Jillian decide to start making babies, you’re going to be all cool, calm and collected about it?” Holden challenged with a grin.

      The captain smoothed his palm across the top of his short, salt-and-pepper hair. “I have a teenage son. I know about making babies.”

      “So you and Jillian are working on giving Mikey a little brother?”

      “Mind your own business, Kincaid.”

      “Or maybe a little sister.” Holden whistled through his teeth. “I’d hate to be the guy who tried to date her.”

      Alex easily pictured an image of Captain Michael Cutler, suited up in body armor, weapons and badge, greeting an already-nervous teenage boy at the front door. His daughter’s unsuspecting date would probably pee his pants. Wisely, Alex buried his amusement by pulling the snacks away from Trip and helping himself to a bite before they were all gone. Only golden-boy Holden could get away with such teasing.

      “You finished?” The captain arched an eyebrow as Holden’s chuckle erupted into laughter.

      “I can’t hear myself think over here,” Trip groused, giving Alex the evil eye as he easily reached across the table and pulled the pretzels back in front of him.

      “You СКАЧАТЬ