Katie

Waking up to a heart attack isn’t something I recommend.

Just like the last time we slept beside one another—although, this time I’m not handcuffed—Jack shoots into a sitting position and shouts my name, sending a scream ripping up my throat, my hands reaching towards the lamp to use it as a weapon. My mind registers the lack of threat at the same time his big, warm, naked body lands on mine, tackling me gently into the pillows. Giving new meaning to the word euphoria.

“Sorry.” His voice is scratchy, a lot like the stubble nuzzling into my neck. A heavy forearm drags my hips back, fitting me against a decidedly awake male lap, but just as the moisture begins to gather between my thighs, Jack’s body tenses. “Don’t tell me that’s the actual time.”

I don’t realize my eyes are closed until I have to squint one in the direction of the bedside clock. Eight twenty-nine. “Maybe there was a power outage,” I surmise in a hopeful tone. “It could happen, right?”

“Fuck this.” He rolls me onto my stomach, his mouth hot and hungry against my nape, his erection heavy against the crease of my backside. “I’m playing hooky.”

“You can’t,” I gasp, the brakes of my mind screeching. “Jack, I won’t let you.”

His miserable groan makes me laugh until he drops his weight, forcing the oxygen straight out of my lungs. “It’s Friday. We only have until Sunday morning. I can’t spend one of those days cooped up in a gymnasium, when I could spend it making you moan.” He turns cajoling, rolling his hips and rumbling my name in my ear. “Don’t make me go, honey.”

Oh, I’m so bloody tempted to throw my mission aside and spend the day beneath Jack. Trust me, I am. But my leaving in two days can’t be the reason he stays, it has to be the reason he goes to the academy. I haven’t forgotten the meeting with Lieutenant Burns. The man’s words are still ringing in my ears and I won’t give him one more reason to overlook Jack’s talent. I refuse to be the cause of him falling behind, then leaving him to deal with the consequences.

For the first time, the reality that I’m leaving punches me hard in the midsection. My leaving has been a given since day one. Something that will happen. With Jack breathing in my hair, however, boarding a plane to Ireland and watching New York grow smaller in a tiny window seems like a fast approaching tragedy. Do I miss my parents? Of course I do. Do I miss my job? Somewhat. I miss the fulfillment of laying my head down at day’s end, assured that my instruction helps keep people safe. That my skills aren’t going to waste.

They definitely won’t go to waste if I agree to begin training with my father again, will they? The unmade decision is clinging to my organs like a leech, sapping me of the will to do anything for myself. Anything that could shape the future when it suddenly seems out of my control.

My father needs me. Jack needs me. What do I need?

“You’ve gone quiet on me, Snaps. Something tells me it’s not because you’ve changed your mind about me ditching training.”

“No,” I whisper, shaken from my troubling train of thought. “No, I . . .”

A beat passes wherein I get the feeling we’re both holding our breath. That is, until Jack flips me over onto my back, searching my face with worried green eyes. “You changed your mind.”

“About what?”

“This. Us. Until Sunday.”

“No.” I scoot back and sit up, throwing my arms around his neck. His hands remain at his sides, like they’ve lost the ability to function. “No, I didn’t change my mind, Jack. I’m only quiet because . . .” Despite the niggling fear that I’m falling into the same pattern of being needed, the truth is still crystal clear. “I didn’t realize it was going to be so hard. To leave, you know?”

Slowly his arms weave around me, holding me tighter and tighter until I’m crushed to his chest. “Yeah, I know. I’ve known. This isn’t new for me.”

“It seemed so far away.”

Silence thrums around us. “Are you worried about what I’ll do when you leave? Is that what this is about?”

A tank crashes in my stomach, because I hadn’t considered the obvious. But there’s no pretending when our heartbeats are pressed together. “Yes.”

“Me, too.” He tilts my chin up. “You’re the one who held up a mirror. You’re the one who brought me to the meeting.” Regret mixes with determination on his face. “But I’d be worried about slipping even if you weren’t leaving. Fixing this problem of mine? That’s on me. You’re not responsible, Katie, understand?”

I want to believe him. God, I really do. Yanking the rug out from beneath his feet when he’s only just gotten his balance, though? It’s going to make getting on that plane brutal. What option do I have but to leave? I’m here on a short trip. I have no work visa, didn’t apply for one because finding a reason to stay never entered my mind. Is staying an option now?

No, of course not. That would be impulsive. Totally mental. My entire family is back home. My job. Childhood friends, if not professionally connected ones. I’ve built a life in Dublin since the Olympics concluded and I haven’t even given myself a chance to flourish. Whether or not I agree to train for Tokyo, my life is three thousand miles away.

Not to mention, Jack hasn’t asked me to stay. Major detail. And a sign that I’m getting way ahead of the game and setting myself up for a disappointment when he inevitably doesn’t ask. I’d have to decline anyway so this whole line of thought is total bollocks.

Bollocks, Katie.

“What is going on in that head?” Jack asks slowly, swaying us side to side. “It looks serious.”

“I’m only just remembering we decided to have dessert for dinner. We didn’t even eat.”

“Order it for breakfast instead and save me something?” That pirate smile makes an appearance. His hand drops from my chin, down to my stomach, his knuckles trailing over my belly button. Lower. “I’ll eat it later.”

My libido dances in a circle. “This is a classic have your cake and eat it, too, situation.”

He swoops in and captures my mouth in a thorough kiss, before pulling away with a groan. “You think being so damn cute will help convince me to leave?”

When his erection nudges me in the belly, I know we’re reaching the point of no return, so I force myself to back up. “I have a meeting today, anyway.” I swing my legs off the bed and stand, only brazening out my nakedness for two seconds before snatching up a pillow and hiding behind the fluffy barrier. “I’ll save you something sweet.”

Jack has no such modesty and he’s . . . dear God. He’s stunning on a normal basis, but wrapped in morning light, the beginnings of a beard and no clothes? He looks as though heaven spat him out onto my hotel bed. “You just save me some, Katie, huh?” A wink in my direction has me sighing. “Come out with us tonight. Me, you. Charlie, Ever, D. We’ll go grab Mexican food.” His eyes are level. “Just dinner.”

I nod right away, relieved there’s a definitive point in the future when I’ll see him again. Maybe I’ll even be able to pretend Sunday isn’t speeding towards me like a train with the brakes cut. “Okay.”

My agreement has his shoulders relaxing. “After training lets out, I’ll go to a meeting, then come get you.”

“You’re good to go alone?”

“Yes.” Jack holds my gaze for a heavy beat of time. “Yes.” He moves past me into the bathroom, emerging a moment later clad in boxer briefs, pulling his T-shirt down to cover his chest. Pity, that. “We’ll head over to the restaurant together, yeah?” After stooping down to pull on his jeans, he leans in and kisses me, the tempo increasing, my blood firing hotter and hotter until he pulls away with clear reluctance. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” I echo.

Jack takes a long look at me, then heads for the door, stuffing his feet into boots and picking up his jacket on the way. Before he can walk out, however, he returns on swift feet, stealing the pillow out of my hands and tossing it on the bed. “You’re too beautiful to hide.”

I stand, glued in place, and stare at the door for long minutes after he’s gone, wondering how in the world I fell in love in just two short weeks.

Turns out, it’s not as much fun having dessert for breakfast while alone. That didn’t stop me from devouring a basket of beignets with raspberry sauce from room service while still in my robe. Shameful behavior, really, but I was feeling self-righteous with my sore shower sex muscles. I’d earned a few extra calories and trashy television, no? Well, that attitude lasted all of seven seconds before my regimented training kicked in and I dragged my ass down to the hotel gym for a run. Someday I will learn to indulge without guilt, but for now I’m happy with baby steps.

A shower and change of clothes later, I’m walking into 1 Police Plaza for the meeting I told Jack about. What I hadn’t mentioned was this: It was unscheduled. And the chance I’ll pull off a face-to-face with the ESU commanding officer is about as good as a lampshade being elected mayor. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. The CO and I had a cursory meet and greet last week, one of the brass big boys welcoming me to New York on behalf of the exchange program, but he doesn’t strike me as a desk jockey. This could be a wasted trip, but I’ve made it downtown so I’m damn well going to attempt a sit-down.

When the officer stationed at the front desk looks up at me and does a double take, I tamp down the urge to check if my zipper is down. Oh God, what if I’m not even wearing pants? But no, he smooths his hair and adjusts his collar, as if he’s interested. In me.

The sparkly feminine pleasure that slips around in my belly is new. There’s no hesitation or surprise behind it. Before this trip, I avoided men in any capacity but professional because I was so sure I would make a bollocks of any encounter with so little experience in my arsenal. Not so far-fetched, considering the closest I’d come to a date was exchanging pleasantries with the cute checkout man at Tesco while buying cereal.

It’s Jack having this effect on me. The way he looks at me lingers, even when he’s not around. Like a sweater fresh from a clothesline warmed by the sun, it hugs me close, surrounding every inch of me with security. Earlier while getting dressed, I caught my own reflection in the mirror and saw a new glow on my cheeks. Less tension around my eyes. A languidness to my movements. Has this feminine confidence always been there waiting to shine? I think so. It feels so natural sustaining eye contact with the officer as I approach the desk.

“Can I help you?”

I nod and produce my ERU badge, looking past the officer down the busy corridor. “Yes. I’m Garda McCoy, here to meet with Commanding Officer Kirkpatrick.”

The man ceases his interested perusal of my badge, giving me a skeptical head tilt. “Is he expecting you?”

“No, but we met last week. His exact words were, ‘don’t hesitate to get in touch if you need anything while in New York, McCoy.’ And I’ll wager he’s not the type to make empty gestures. Don’t you think?” I give him my best smile, a smidgen amazed when his cheeks go pink. “So I need a personal helicopter tour around Manhattan. With Jay-Z as my guide. Think he can arrange it?”

He backs up a pace. “Uh, yeah. Listen—”

“Ah sure look, I’m only messing with you, love. Your face is classic.” I give the hallway behind him a loose-wristed wave. “Five minutes of his time would be grand. That’s it.”

Officer Blushkins has no idea what to make of me. I wish Jack were here. He would be busting his sides laughing. Or better yet, Jack would play along without missing a beat. A tiny ripple fans out in my stomach at how easily I paint Jack into the scene now. In a short space of time, he’s become the person I want standing beside me in all situations.

“Let me go check if he’s available,” says Blushkins, adjusting his belt and ambling off down the chaotic hallway, moving through a sea of blue uniforms. Two minutes later, he returns, giving me a chin jerk I’ve come to associate with New Yorkers since arriving in town. It means, getcha ass over here. Well, he doesn’t have to tell me twice. Apparently this newfound confidence is working for me, because I’ve just gotten an audience with the CO.

He’s on the phone when I enter his office, earning me another chin jerk. The leather seat creaks in welcome as I sit down, my eyes scanning the wall full of accolades as Kirkpatrick wraps up his call. Dust motes swirl in the air, slices of sunlight pouring in through wooden blinds. Then the phone smacks into its cradle and I’m being scrutinized by one of the sharpest minds in the NYPD. Not intimidating whatsoever.

“What can I do for you, McCoy?”

“Thank you for meeting with me, sir.” Something tells me my helicopter joke wouldn’t get a laugh, so I cut straight to the point. “Part of my assignment was to recommend a recruit for ESU.”

The computer sitting on his desk gets a chin jerk. “Burns emailed me with your pick.”

“Yes, the lieutenant is very efficient.” The animosity in my tone seems to amuse him, twin sparks twinkling in his eyes. “I’m here because there’s another recruit with a high proficiency for firearms, sir. I’d like him brought to your attention.”

“Why didn’t you recommend him?”

Heat prickles my face. Discussing Jack when he’s not around makes me feel disloyal, but I remind myself doing nothing, never saying his name, would be worse. “He didn’t have the best home life growing up. As a result, he has some issues. Issues he’s sorting through. Actively.” He starts to speak, but I interrupt. “All due respect, sir, if you tell me your job is to conform men into team players . . . or groom them for something larger than themselves, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

His right eyebrow lifts in increments, as if operated by a crank. “That is my job.” I open my mouth to issue the rejoinder on my tongue, but he holds up a hand. “But it’s only half my job. Teamwork is certainly a value we ingrain in our men at ESU, but most of them were loners before I got a hold of them.”

Something that feels like hope climbs my arms like ivy. “Maybe the best men and women learn to be strong alone, before they merge that strength with others.”

“That’s catchy.”

My chin lifts. “It’s the truth.”

Kirkpatrick leans forwards, resting his large frame on his forearms. “I like you, McCoy. You seemed like a timid mouse when we shook hands last week.”

“I was focusing on not breaking my neck in those high heels.”

A laugh rumbles out of him, whipping the dust motes into a frenzy. Several beats pass as the CO settles back into his chair. “Is Jack Garrett really as good as you say?”

My forehead wrinkles. “I never . . . I don’t think I told you his name.”

“Lieutenant Burns included Garrett’s name in the email.”

I whistle low and slow under my breath. “Well, that was unexpected. I might have to amend my judgment of the lieutenant.”

Kirkpatrick shrugs. “He’s a prickly bastard. Don’t take away your resentment—it’s what fuels him.”

“Why?”

The humor dances out of the older man’s eyes. “It was a bad scene when he lost his partner. Well before he made lieutenant.” He taps a finger on the desk. “I’ve seen it before. Officers react one of two ways. They get numb and slowly burn out. Or they work triple time and grow obsessed with procedure. Guess which option Burns took?”

“The latter.” Guilt slithers through my ribs. “I see.”

“What do you propose I do about Garrett?”

“Meet him,” I say without thinking. “Watch him shoot. The rest will take care of itself.”

I’ve given myself away. My affection for Jack weighs down every word out of my mouth. But I don’t flinch under the knowledge in Kirkpatrick’s eyes. There’s a point in a woman’s life when she has to trust that her accomplishments, the way she’s lived, can speak for itself and earn enough respect to redirect any and all bullshit. And I do believe I’ve just reached that point. My relationship with Jack is not why I’m here and I dare him to accuse me otherwise. “I’m here because I refuse to let someone with that much talent get lost in the shuffle.”

Kirkpatrick studies me a moment. “I’ll meet with Garrett. If I think he can be an asset to this unit, I’ll offer my support while he figures his shit out.”

“Thank you.” I’m not so brave that I can’t admit I’m about to begin sobbing, so I stand abruptly and put out my hand. “I appreciate your time, sir. The boys back in Dublin will be delighted to know you’re as fair and tough as your reputation.”

“That’s it, huh?” The CO takes my hand in a firm shake. “Back to Ireland.”

“Yes, sir.”

He presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “If you ever decide New York is more your scene, I’ll have you on my squad as an instructor.” His mouth tilts at one end. “I told you, McCoy. I like you. And I hate pretty much everyone.”

Sobbing shall commence in three . . . two . . . one . . .

“Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me.”

As I jog down the corridor with burning eyes, hearty laughter trails after me.