Nothing special vi his h.., p.2
Nothing Special VI: His Hart's Command, page 2
part #6 of Nothing Special Series
Free smiled to himself as he popped a few bucks into the vending machine for a meatball sub. Not many people in the station knew what Free’s computer system was capable of— basically, any and everything his lieutenants needed of him. Of course, most things they asked of him were within the scope of the law, and that was why Free loved his job. A man with his talents could’ve worked for anyone from NASA to the Pentagon, but he wouldn’t. Ever. Because the moment he did, it wouldn’t have been long before his job duties changed and bordered on immoral, and he was finished with being bullied.
That was another reason he hadn’t hesitated to take the job when his best friend from college, Tech, had called him. He’d known Tech had been training for years to become a detective. As soon as he’d been promoted and granted field access, he’d asked Free to come to Atlanta and fill his current position as their technology specialist. It’d been comical when he’d first made his debut to God and Day. It hadn’t exactly been a conventional meeting. He’d hacked their system from the airport as if it were nothing and snooped on a case they were investigating. It may have ticked God off a bit, but the big guy had quickly come to rely on him over the two months he’d been there.
He paid for a Diet Coke while he nuked his sandwich in the microwave. Several televisions lined the walls, but all of them were showing different news programs. He wasn’t in the mood to be reminded of all the bad going on in the world. He sat at one of the tables facing the entrance. Sometimes, he’d use the excuse of wanting a better vending selection from the upstairs break room and eat up there; but he’d really go to sneak a peek through the glass walls of the SWAT department.
There was no reason to venture up there and pretend tonight. The entire department was dark and empty, just as it’d been for the last two and half weeks. But he’s on his way home. Free smiled as he bit into the bland, about to expire in two days, sandwich. Not much could ruin his great mood. Only Tech knew how bad he had it for the huge captain. Gosh, every time Free thought about how Hart had stuck up for him at God and Day’s bachelor party against that creepy cop, Vasquez, it made his heart race. He’d even seen him home safely. Then Hart had gone out of his way to check on him during his first few weeks working for the department, to ensure he was settling in, and no one else had given him any more trouble. He was so caring and considerate with him. However, it was all so damn confusing—and extremely infuriating—because it was believed that Hart was straight.
Well, he was going to find out once and for all.
“Hey,” Syn said, distracting Free from his reflections.
“What’s going on, Sarge?” Free asked around a mouthful of bread.
“Nothing much. Ronowski and Michaels are in for their shift. It’s gonna be a long night, so I’m gonna head out. You can go. We’re not doing anything else tonight,” Syn said, leaning against the counter, drinking a bottle of water.
“The lieutenants gone?”
“Yeah. God was waiting on Hart, but his team’s not leaving St. George for a few more hours, so they won’t be arriving until morning.”
Damnit. Free really wanted to see Hart tonight. His cheerful mood deflated rapidly and his sandwich now tasted like Chef Boyardee spread on dry toast. Free crumpled the last few bites in the plastic wrapper and chucked it toward the trash can.
“Relax. He’ll be here in the morning.” Syn chuckled as he left the room.
Free covered his eyes, sinking farther in the hard plastic chair. He was never going to fool anyone.
Hart
Hart stood at the rear of the car and stared down at the petite woman whose safety he’d been responsible for the last sixteen days. She placed her trembling hand on his bicep and leaned closer to him. He could feel his team’s eyes on him as the woman got emotional right there in front of ten fully geared-up SWAT officers, a slew of St. George police and several FBI agents. She ignored them all and concentrated on him. Being surrounded by uniformed men had been her life for the last eight months while the state put on a defense to take down a violent gang. The last day of the trial had been yesterday. It was over. Maryanne reached up as high as she could and tried to drape her hands over his shoulders.
Hart could sympathize. Maryanne had been dealt the kind of hand in life that made a person question if there was a God. Her husband and only child had been victims of a gang-related drive-by last year that had also killed four other people. As the sole survivor of the attack, she’d cooperated with the FBI to give eyewitness testimony, in exchange for full protection and a new identity. For the past two weeks, it’d been Hart’s job to get her to and from the court building safely.
“I’ll never forget what you did for me last night.” She leaned her head against his chest, pressing against the equipment he was wearing. “You’re a very special man.”
“Thank you,” Hart said roughly.
The woman had been a broken shell when he’d first seen her in the safe house just outside of Scottdale. As the lengthy trial had worn on, there’d been two more attempts on her life, which only made her that much more determined to see justice served for her spouse and nine-year-old baby girl.
“No. I thank you, Ivan.” She peered up at him with watery green eyes.
She took a few deep breaths as she tried to stem the tears. He let her have as much time as she needed. They all did. No one rudely cleared their throat or interrupted her goodbye. She wasn’t just saying goodbye to the men who’d risked their lives for her every day, but also farewell to who she’d always been.
Maryanne reached into her pocket and pulled out the emergency alert beacon he’d given her last week to make her feel safer. It was designed like a necklace, only the Irish cross charm had a button on the back that could be pressed to alert their mobile command of her exact location. She placed it back into his palm. “You won’t know where I am anymore, will you?”
“No. No one will know.” Hart leaned down and hugged her tightly. He felt her sigh and squeeze him back. He dropped his head and whispered against her temple, “You’re gonna be fine, Mary. Whatever your new life is, try to embrace it. Okay? Don’t fight it and you’ll be just fine.”
She smiled somberly. “Yeah. I’ll try my best.”
Hart pulled back and nodded once to the FBI Agent waiting to take her to the airport. Where she’d land, he didn’t know. He returned her wave as the unmarked car disappeared from his sight. Hart got into the passenger seat of the armored truck and motioned for his team to move. “Let’s roll out. Time to go home.”
“Big roger on that, Captain,” his sergeant responded happily, maneuvering the huge APC—armored personnel carrier—out of the parking lot. An unnerving anxiety settled over Hart as they merged onto I-75. There was a certain individual back in Atlanta who he was dying to see, but he was unsure what the hell he was gonna say when he saw him. It was about time he stopped being coy. A grown ass man—a single man—at age forty-four should be able to go after what he wanted.
“So, Cap. What exactly did you do for Ms. Maryanne last night that made her so damn appreciative?” Fox asked him.
Hart didn’t bother to look at his lieutenant. He was sure Fox had that annoyingly sly smile on his face, and he wasn’t in the mood to slap it off. “You’re all animals, including you, Dinah.”
“Hey. I didn’t ask the stupid question, Fox did. But, inquiring minds do wanna know,” his sergeant chimed in. Dinah was a beautiful black woman with long black and blonde dreadlocks that she kept pulled up into a large, complex bun at the base of her neck. She was a gorgeous scorpion with a vicious sting. And Hart fully relied on her and his lieutenant to help him manage a high-demand SWAT team.
“Inquiring minds? More like nosy minds wanna know. Trifling minds wanna know. Crass minds wanna—”
“Oh come on. We’re not any of those things,” Fox said from the rear. “But, you can’t expect a woman to confess those kinds of sentiments in front of all of us and we not ask about it.”
“True. You were in her boudoir for a long time, Cap.” Dinah chuckled, pushing the diesel truck hard down the interstate.
“‘Boudoir’?” Hart laughed.
Dinah rolled her brown eyes, “You know what I mean. In her bedchamber.”
“I wasn’t in her boudoir or freakin’ chamber. I was in the witness’s room comforting her.”
A loud round of cheers and “ohs” followed.
“Sometimes I wonder how old you all are,” Hart grumbled. “I didn’t mean that kind of comfort.”
“She sure was comfortable putting her hands on you,” Fox added.
“He’s so big and cuddly,” Dinah said, trying to reach over and squeeze his shoulder.
“Okay, enough. Just get us home safely, Dinah,” Hart ordered. He knew his team was giving him shit, they often did, but he didn’t want to joke about what had happened last night.
The woman had recently lost her husband and child. He’d provided her with nothing more than a friendly ear and a shoulder to weep on. The trial was over and she’d needed a long, cathartic cry. It hadn’t been until Maryanne had wept herself to sleep on his chest that he’d finally pulled the covers over her and slipped out of there at four in the morning. He’d ignored the disapproving glances he’d gotten from the two agents posted outside her door as he made his way back to his team’s area of the safe house.
Dinah pulled the truck into the station’s underground garage a little after ten a.m. They were all exhausted from having been up most of the night, then traveling for the last five hours. But, there was no rest for the weary. They had to get all their gear catalogued and stored in their armory. Get showered and be back in uniform and at their desks, ready to report. Then the commander would make his way over and demand an immediate debriefing. All this was to be done before he’d even be allowed to eat breakfast. It was the life of a SWAT officer.
His team came through the precinct doors, still in full gear with their special operations assault rifles laid across their chests. The bullpen came alive with shouts as fists pounded on desks, and chairs squeaked as the precinct stood to welcome them back. Hart nodded at a lot of the officers as they made their way to the elevators, even accepted hugs from a few of the female staff.
“Glad you guys are back, Hart!” Captain Myers called from his office. “Damn good job out there.”
More cheers rose from the officers. It was a great day for Atlanta and it was huge recognition for the department that they’d gotten another gang off the streets. Hart nodded in the captain’s direction then turned and looked toward his friend God’s narcotics department.
The lights were bright inside the huge office, and he could see several of the detectives at their desks through the glass panels. God was standing with his hands in the air with a massive grin on his face. Hart threw his fist up, then gave God a sign that meant he’d be back after he handled business upstairs. Just before he turned the corner, he saw a familiar pair of dark, striking eyes watching him closely, making a shiver ran down his spine.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, he couldn’t’ve been more relieved to see his own department. His assistant was already at his desk, with his office open for him. Hart passed his rifle to Fox and headed in the opposite direction, while his sergeant and lieutenant led their team to the armory.
“Hey, Hart. Welcome home.” His assistant, Carlos, jumped up from his desk the moment he entered. “How are you? Oh goodness. You look exhausted.”
“I am.” Hart groaned, straining to remove his protective vest. “Any messages that need my attention now?”
“No. They can wait.”
“Good. I’ll be in a conference with the commander at eleven. Don’t schedule anything for me after two, please.”
“Sure thing,” Carlos answered. He came over and started unfastening clips on his uniform, removing piece by piece like he always did.
When he had most of the belongings in a huge pile on the floor in his office, Hart stood unburdened in just his utility pants and a sweaty Atlanta PD T-shirt. Carlos scooped up his equipment and left.
First thing he wanted was food. He was a big man, and he hated missing meals, but he had to get in the showers and be ready for his boss. Hart was glad to see that Carlos had retrieved his uniforms from the cleaners and straightened up his office. They’d had to go so fast, he’d left it in a shambles.
On his way to the elevators, he ran into one of the administrative officers in the accounting department. “Hi, Officer Lawrence. How are you?”
“I’m fine. And please, it’s Sasha, for the millionth time.” She grinned nicely, before her rosy lips turned to a pity-slash-pouty frown. “Oh, look at you. I bet you’ve gotten hardly any sleep.”
“None of my team has gotten much rest, honestly. But yeah, thank you.” He wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking her for. “And there’s still more work to be done before I can call it quits, so I better hit the showers before Commander Lark gets here.”
Hart shied away from the lust in her pretty eyes. Officer Lawrence, Sasha, was a lovely, and most importantly, brave woman. She’d been a beat cop until she’d been struck by a bullet ricochet in her left kneecap that had abruptly ended her field career. Yet she’d saved two lives that day. She licked her lips and smoothed back the cowlick just behind her ear. He stood awkwardly, since she was blocking his exit. He didn’t want to tell her to move, and he’d look dumb trying to squeeze past her. He was six-three, two hundred and sixty pounds. There was no way he was getting by without brushing his body along hers. From the way she was staring at him, he wasn’t sure she’d mind.
“I know you’re exhausted, but our group wants to know if you’re still doing our class this weekend, or should I send an email saying you’ll resume next week?” she asked sweetly.
Hart loved the female officers’ self-defense class he taught for the department’s women’s group. He and Fox had been the first to volunteer to assist with their organization. He believed it was important to support the women on the force and give them the tools they needed to survive on the streets. “No, absolutely not. Fox and I will be there. Rested and ready. Hope you guys have been practicing your takedowns.” Hart gave her his friendliest smile.
“You’re just amazing. I don’t know how you do it. You must be part machine.” She giggled, a brighter gleam in her hazel eyes.
He cleared his throat and checked his watch, hoping she’d get the hint. He really didn’t want to be rude.
“I better let you go. Just wanted to double-check on the class.” She raised one brow, “And, I brought you a tuna noodle casserole. As soon as I heard our SWAT captain was coming back, I knew you’d return with a hearty appetite. It’s downstairs in the fridge, I’ll bring it up this afternoon once you get settled. Casseroles are kind of my specialty.”
“That was really nice of you Officer Lawr—”
She gave him a sharp glare, and he hurried to correct himself. “Sasha.”
She smiled, lowering both arched brows.
“My crew’s gonna sure appreciate that casserole after we do the debriefing. Thank you so much.”
She looked a little embarrassed, “I made it for you.”
Hart scratched at his beard. “Hope you don’t mind if I share.”
Her cheeks were flushed. “Of course. I just want to make sure you get a plate, Captain. I know how crafty that Fox is. He’ll eat half of it by himself.”
When she was in the elevator he let out a long sigh. The far one opened and Carlos stepped out with a concerned scowl on his face, “What’s going on? And, why aren’t you in the showers yet? Your boss will be here within the hour.”
Hart put his hand on Carlos’ shoulder, stopping him. Without his Energizer-bunny-like assistant he’d be lost. The people of importance in his world went from Fox, God, Dinah, then Carlos. He needed a daily dose of those people to help him manage and get through his hectic day-to-day life. However, he was not in the mood for Carlos’ motor mouth. He hadn’t been sure he and the five-foot-six, quick-witted man-boy would click when he’d interviewed for the position. But from the moment he’d walked into Hart’s office, he’d owned him. That had been two years ago. And just like he had on day one, Carlos could anticipate Hart’s needs without him having to voice it.
Hart rubbed his palm over the pulsing at his temple. “I’m going now. I got sidetracked.”
“Here take this.” Carlos held out his hand.
Hart automatically reached out and took the small, white folded packet. Carlos always knew what he needed. Bless you, little man. He opened the packet and dumped the bitter BC powder on his tongue and accepted the already opened bottle of orange juice from Carlos’ other hand.
“Thanks.” Hart grimaced.
“I sent for two steak bagels, they should be here in time for you to scarf them down before Lark gets here.” Carlos’s voice elevated, his hands flailing as he shoved at Hart’s chest, “But not if you don’t go and get your big ass in the damn showers! My gosh. Hurry up. You got a fresh uniform in your locker.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Hart knew his own voice sounded like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, but he was dragging ass and quickly running out of steam. The thought of steak bagels put a little more pep in his steps as he headed down to the locker room, trying his best not to get stopped again.
Free
Free poured himself another cup of hot water for his tea. It was past two o’clock, he probably needed to chill on the caffeine, because he was already buzzing from head to toe. The moment he’d seen those precinct doors open and Hart lead his team inside and through the bullpen, all ’tac’d up and weighted down with artillery, he hadn’t been able to settle down. The man looked too damn dangerous and fine at the same time. Free had always been attracted to large men. Men who could hold him down and control him. But since his father had betrayed his trust all those years ago, he had a hard time surrendering his body to someone who could potentially hurt him.
