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Overwhelming Force
Janie Crouch
He lost her once. He won't lose her again.Despite an illustrious career as a top hostage negotiator, Joe Matarazzo is haunted by the past. It was a year ago that three innocent lives were lost under his watch. But Joe isn't the only one who remembers that day. When Joe's exes begin to fall victim to a violent stalker, Joe seeks the help of Laura Birchwood--a lawyer and the woman he once loved. Despite old wounds, Laura agrees to help Joe find out who's framing him. And while they expect to be met with danger, they're unprepared for passion that still burns strong. And their determination to give what was between them a second chance.


He lost her once. He won’t lose her again.
Despite an illustrious career as a top hostage negotiator, Joe Matarazzo is haunted by the past. It was a year ago that three innocent lives were lost under his watch. But Joe isn’t the only one who remembers that day. When Joe’s exes begin to fall victim to a violent stalker, Joe seeks the help of Laura Birchwood—a lawyer and the woman he once loved. Despite old wounds, Laura agrees to help Joe find out who’s framing him. And while they expect to be met with danger, they’re unprepared for passion that still burns strong, and their determination to give what was between them a second chance.
Omega Sector: Critical Response
Joe pulled her close again and they crossed the street to her house.
She handed him the key to her door. “You know, I think it’s safer for you if I stay at your house until we find Bailey Heath.”
He slid her jacket off her shoulders and Laura turned to look at him, smiling. “Oh, yeah? And is some psychopath stalker the only reason you’re interested in staying here?”
He hung her jacket on the back of the dining room chair and soon his followed suit. He turned his gaze on her. It could be called nothing less than predatory.
Everything inside her heated at the look in his eyes.
“Are you saying you might be interested in something other than me being your bodyguard?” He took a step closer.
“I’m pretty sure there’s something I’d like you to do with my body, but guard it isn’t what I had in mind.” She gripped the waistband of his jeans and pulled him closer. She took a step back until her spine was fully up against the door.
He was everything she should run from. He was everything she craved.
Overwhelming Force
Janie Crouch


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JANIE CROUCH has loved to read romance her whole life. She cut her teeth on Mills & Boon Romance novels as a preteen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. She enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com (http://www.janiecrouch.com/).
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Joe Matarazzo—Hostage negotiator for Omega Sector’s Critical Response Division. Wealthy, charming, dangerous.
Laura Birchwood—Colorado attorney who has a history with Joe Matarazzo. He’s already destroyed her once. She should stay as far from him as she can.
Derek Waterman—SWAT leader for Omega. Raised on a ranch in Wyoming, and with a past in Special Forces, he’s a warrior at heart. Married to Molly Humphries.
Lillian Muir—Sole female member of Omega’s SWAT team. Helicopter pilot. Sharpshooter.
Steve Drackett—Director of the Critical Response Division of Omega Sector.
Jon Hatton—Crisis-management expert and profiler for Omega. Engaged to Sherry Mitchell.
Sherry Mitchell—Talented forensic artist; engaged to Jon Hatton.
Molly Humphries-Waterman—Married to Derek Waterman. Six months’ pregnant. Criminal pathologist and head of the forensic lab at Omega Sector.
Lance Thompson—Detective for the Colorado Springs Police Department. Knows something isn’t right and is determined to get to the bottom of it.
Deacon Crandall—Friend of Joe’s, a man who gets things done. Works inside the law, or sometimes outside if he needs to.
Summer Worrall—Lost her husband, Tyler, in a hostage situation a year ago.
Omega Sector: Critical Response team—Made up of the most elite agents our nation has to offer; providing expertise and support to local law enforcement for crises of all kinds.
To Allison, my editor. You gave me my first shot and I’ll forever be grateful. Here we are, ten books later, and you still haven’t gotten a restraining order against me yet. I’ll consider that a win. Thank you for all you do.
Contents
Cover (#u6c84af2c-7784-566f-a5ba-1b19289885a7)
Back Cover Text (#u41150b95-f26c-5164-ae42-95d5c20e6b62)
Introduction (#u07f58f57-48ce-536f-b49a-0f6f71fcada9)
Title Page (#ua860ac0f-909b-565f-85ad-425fbc136ad2)
About the Author (#u2510f4e0-7764-565f-ba23-3f32591e91b9)
Cast of Characters (#u92877cf9-f5be-5c2f-9c0e-2258c02829d3)
Dedication (#u68c4408c-b0fc-59c0-9ff7-ab0797d9620f)
Chapter One (#ulink_3faa427d-d4c7-5b32-ab2c-20e88ac79497)
Chapter Two (#ulink_40ce559a-2008-589e-8669-de6d02e4a085)
Chapter Three (#ulink_cf672e65-5dda-5167-a883-e8b246f9b129)
Chapter Four (#ulink_9c773b49-dcbd-5b03-bc35-3beb64af9895)
Chapter Five (#ulink_cd8c9647-56dd-5d68-80fa-31abd0770965)
Chapter Six (#ulink_7401a7bd-c82d-5db7-ac86-28eee39587ed)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_7abdaffd-72ac-5ba8-8ff0-d9664c911ecb)
She’d watched him for a year.
She’d traveled all over the country going wherever he went. Others might call it pathetic, but she didn’t think so. Besides, what else did she have to do since he’d taken everything from her?
Joe Matarazzo had cost her the man she’d loved. Losing everything after that—her job, her friends, her home—had been his fault, too. Joe Matarazzo had cost her the future.
So now she journeyed around and watched him. Or when she couldn’t travel she scoured the internet for information about him.
Whenever she heard his name on a police scanner she prepared to rush to the scene. She had no doubt he would save the day once again.
Why couldn’t he have saved the day when it had mattered the most?
Fire had taken the man she loved. Joe Matarazzo could have stopped it, but he hadn’t. Hadn’t tried hard enough, not like he would today. Not like how hard she’d seen him try in all his other successful situations. He had the most important job: rescuing those who couldn’t rescue themselves. Leading them to safety. Putting their lives before his own.
But he hadn’t done his job a year ago. Almost exactly a year ago now. On that day he hadn’t tried hard enough. Hadn’t cared enough about those he tried to help.
Since that time she had observed him, followed him, studied him. She knew everything about him. Because of that, she could say with a clear conscience that he was guilty.
The time had come for Joe Matarazzo to atone for his wrongdoings. To suffer for the lives he’d lost.
He’d paid no price for what he’d done. Instead, he had women, he had money, he had everything. But soon that would change. She would see to it.
First, Joe would fall. And as he did, he would know the pain of losing what he cared about most.
Then he would burn.
Just like the fire that had taken her love.
* * *
“CASANOVA HAS STRUCK AGAIN. I know it’s hard, fellas—don’t be jealous just because Joe Matarazzo looks better on your girl than her outfit.”
Joe rolled his eyes and tried to snatch the newspaper clipping out of Derek Waterman’s—Joe’s Omega Sector Critical Response Division colleague—hands. Derek shifted slightly, holding the paper just beyond Joe’s reach since they were both strapped into the bench seat of the twin-engine helicopter.
Who even read a physical newspaper anymore? Joe hadn’t looked at a news report that wasn’t on his smartphone or computer for years. Not that his dating life was news, print version or otherwise.
Joe had no idea why so many people would want to read about his love life. Yeah, his family had money—a lot of it—and yeah, he’d grown up with some Hollywood A-listers and ended up photographed a lot.
And yeah—he grinned just a little, glancing out the helicopter’s window as Derek continued to read and the seventy miles between Colorado Springs and Denver whirled past—Joe tended to be a bit of a bad boy. Had a reputation with the ladies.
So what? He liked women.
“The lady du jour was Natasha Suzanne Bleat, daughter of British diplomat Marcus Bleat...”
Joe tuned out as Derek read Natasha’s impressive list of family credentials through the headphones that allowed all of them to communicate with each other. Jon Hatton and Lillian Muir—the first an Omega profiler and the second Omega SWAT like Derek—listened raptly from the pilot and copilot seats where Lillian controlled the aircraft.
Seriously, Joe’s colleagues loved this stuff, ridiculous as it may be. They had a whole scrapbook full of Joe’s clippings.
Joe had grown up with press and had learned to pretty much ignore it. The press had their own agenda and nobody’s best interests in mind but theirs. He learned that lesson a little too late, but learned it.
And it wasn’t like paparazzi followed him around. Yet for whatever reason, gossip sites and society pages loved to report on his dating life. A dating life he had to admit was pretty extensive. Everyone called him Casanova. The press and even his colleagues at Omega.
Joe wasn’t offended. It took a hell of a lot more to offend him.
“...the redhead beauty was last seen entering the Los Angeles Four Seasons with Joe, arm in arm.”
Joe raised his gaze heavenward with a long-suffering sigh and waited for the rest, but that was it.
“Last seen?” Joe finally succeeded in snatching the paper away from Derek. “They make it sound like I killed her and hid her body.”
“Oh, it sounds like you did something to her body, but I don’t think anyone figures you killed her. At least not literally.” Lillian snickered from her pilot’s seat.
“I have no idea how you get so lucky, dude.” Derek closed his eyes and leaned farther back on the bench seat next to Joe. “No matter what city we’re in, the women throw themselves at you.”
Joe could’ve pointed out that speeding their way to a hostage negotiation scene was probably not the time to discuss the press version of his love life. But he knew this sort of distraction helped keep the team loose and relaxed.
There would be plenty of time for tension and focus when they landed and assessed the scene.
Joe shrugged. “What can I say? I’m #blessed, man.” He made the hashtag symbol with his hands, tapping his fingers together.
Everyone groaned.
“Don’t make me shoot you. I’d catch flack for shooting an unarmed man.” Derek didn’t open his eyes as he said it.
Joe was the only unarmed person in the helicopter. Although he was trained in the use of a number of weapons, he almost always went into situations unarmed.
He was Omega Sector’s top hostage negotiator. And he was damn good at his job.
Joseph Gregory Terrance Matarazzo III didn’t need a career. At least, didn’t need one for a salary. He’d been born with money, had known its benefits his entire life. Had used those benefits for a carefree, fun-loving existence until about six years ago when he’d turned twenty-five and decided maybe he’d like to do something with his time besides sit around and look good.
The laid-back, playboy, slacker and media darling had decided to become a better man.
Joe had skills. Not the same skills Derek had in his ability to formulate the best tactical advantage in any given hostile situation. Or the ones Lillian had with the many ways she could kill someone not only through the use of weapons, but just her scary, tiny, bare hands. Or Hatton with whatever he did, which was pretty much overthink everything and come up with scenarios and means of handling crises.
Joe’s skills rested with people. He had a charming way with others. He knew it. Everybody knew it. Joe excelled at talking to people, listening to them, making them feel comfortable. He was likable, a cool kid. The type of person people wanted to be around.
It wasn’t an act. Joe honestly cared about people, even the hostage-takers he was sent to talk to. So he tried his damnedest to connect with the people in these situations, to listen to them and see what he could do so everyone could leave the situation alive. If Joe did his job right, nobody had to get hurt.
If he didn’t do his job right, the Dereks and Lillians with the guns came in with a different solution.
Most of the time Joe successfully completed his mission and nobody was harmed. Sometimes there was no other way and the bad guys got wounded or worse. Joe was trained—and wasn’t hesitant—to make the hard call when he knew he wasn’t going to be able to neutralize the situation and SWAT needed to step in and take the tangos out. That situation wasn’t Joe’s preference, but he didn’t lose sleep when it happened.
Every once in a while something went terribly wrong and innocent people got hurt. Joe touched a burn scar at the base of his neck, one that continued over his shoulder and partway down his back. Innocent people had been hurt that day a year ago. Innocent people had died.
Joe planned to use his skills today to make sure another situation like that didn’t happen again.
Derek and Jon began arguing over the name of the woman the press had spotted Joe with a few days before Natasha during an Omega case in Austin, Texas.
“Her name was Kerri. I’m telling you.” Jon’s voice came crisply through the headphones. “Kerri with an i. I remember it clear as day.”
“No,” Derek said. “That was the one before. Austin was Kelli. But also with an i.”
Joe wondered what Derek’s brilliant wife, Molly, the crime lab director at Omega, and Jon’s fiancée, Sherry Mitchell, a hugely talented forensic artist, would have to say about their men’s topic of conversation.
No doubt they would find it as ridiculous as Joe did.
Joe remembered both Kerri and Kelli. He’d had dinner with one, a drink at a bar with the other. Nothing more. Just like the night at the hotel with Natasha when Joe had walked her, admittedly arm in arm, to her room. And left her there.
Because, hell, nobody could be as much of a Casanova as the press wanted to label him. God knew he wasn’t a monk, but sometimes the women he was with were just pleasant company—clothes on—and nothing more.
But Joe hated to deny his colleagues their fun.
“Would you like me to settle this, boys?” he asked, sighing.
“For the love of all that is holy, please yes, Matarazzo, settle this.” Lillian’s higher voice cut through the baritone of the three men.
“You’re both wrong. It was Kerri and Kelli. Both of them in Austin. Together.” Joe smiled as he told the lie.
If they wanted Casanova he would give it to them. He knew he probably shouldn’t since it reinforced what his colleagues already thought to be the truth about him: that he was less part of the Omega team and more like a novelty. But Joe was great at figuring out what people needed and becoming that, at least for a little while. A distraction en route to a troublesome situation? No problem.
Hatton and Derek both groaned, neither knowing whether to believe him.
“I’m going to check some of the gossip sites when I get back to HQ,” Hatton threatened.
“You do that,” Joe responded. “Because you know everything they publish can be taken as gospel.”
Silence fell as they flew the last few miles and Lillian landed the helicopter on the roof helipad of a building that had been cleared two blocks from First National Bank of South Denver. Temporary home of two bad guys and a dozen or so hostages.
Lillian landed and switched off the rotors. “Time to go to work, boys.”
Joe slid the door open and he and Derek both ducked their heads and briskly made their way down the stairs, out of the building and over to the bank. Jon quickly joined them as they found the officer in charge. Lillian would be there after she took care of the helicopter. Jokes and talk about Joe’s exploits ceased. Omega now had a job to do.
The older man shook everyone’s hand. “I’m Sheriff Richardson. We appreciate you coming out so quickly.”
“We need the most up-to-date intel you have,” Derek told the sheriff. Joe was glad the locals had called Omega and egos hadn’t come into play. Situations like this tended to be delicate enough without law enforcement working against each other.
Richardson nodded. “We have two men in their midtwenties holding, as best as we can tell, sixteen people hostage inside the bank. Two of those hostages are children. They’ve been inside for two hours and we haven’t been able to speak with them, despite trying multiple times.”
Richardson turned from Derek to Joe. “You’re the negotiator, right? The city has a good one of our own, but she had a baby a couple of days ago. She was still going to come in but I put a stop to that immediately.”
Joe nodded. “That was the right decision. I won’t let you down, Sheriff. I’ll do my very best to get everyone out safely.”
“Do you have building plans for the bank, Sheriff?” Derek asked.
“Yes.” He gestured over to a younger man who brought them over. Lillian joined them, and she, Derek and Hatton were soon poring over the plans.
Joe took a deep breath, looking out at the small bank. He couldn’t see anything happening inside. The Denver County police didn’t have a sizable SWAT team, but it did appear like they had a couple of marksmen. He knew Derek and Lillian were both expert sharpshooters also.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Why were the hostage-takers here at this particular bank? Had they tried to rob it then got stuck so took hostages? Robbing a bank wasn’t a very smart move and didn’t have a high success rate, but people did desperate things sometimes.
There were kids inside. That upped the ante a lot. Joe’s natural inclination was to march up to the door right now, even without backup. But he knew to set wheels in motion before Derek and the team were ready could spell disaster for everyone.
“Derek, there are kids, man,” Joe said softly. He knew he didn’t have to remind his friend of that—with his pregnant wife, it would be in the forefront of Derek’s mind, too—but couldn’t help himself. “They’ve already been in there a long time. Let me know which direction you’ll be coming from if it goes south and I’ll get started. At least get the kids out.”
“There’s not a lot of good options with a bank this old that was built in the fifties,” Derek muttered, studying the plans more intently. “It looks like the roof will be our best bet. Probably a ventilation shaft. We might have to send Lillian through alone if it’s too small.”
Lillian alone would be plenty enough to put down two tangos. Joe nodded at her; she winked at him. Despite her beauty, he had never tried to make a move on her. He knew better than to hit on a woman who made a living shooting people.
“Okay,” Joe said. “What’s today’s go-signal?”
The team always had a phrase and action, both meant only to be used as a last resort, that Joe could use to signal SWAT that the situation inside was out of hand and they needed to use deadly force.
“Word is sunglasses.” Derek glanced up from the plans. “Action is putting your sunglasses on your head.”
Joe’s shades were in the pocket of his shirt. Unlike the other Omega members, all wearing full combat gear and bulletproof vests, Joe was wearing a black T-shirt, jeans and casual brown boots. It was important that he seem as normal and nonthreatening as possible when he approached the hostage-takers.
“Be careful in there, Joe.” It was Jon who looked up from the building plans this time. “We’ve got a lot of blinds here. I know you’re good on the fly, but watch your six.”
Joe nodded, already beginning to walk toward the building. “Those kids and their mother will be coming out first. Be ready for them.”
He blew out a breath through gritted teeth, forcing his shoulders then jaw to relax. Coming in tense—or at least looking overly tense—never helped. There were two guys in there who needed to be heard. Joe wanted to do that. But even more he wanted to get the hostages out safely. Every one of them.
Joe walked up to the glass door of the bank and knocked, then held his hands up in a position of surrender so they could see he wasn’t armed. And he waited.
He was about to become best buddies with two potentially dangerous guys.
Just another day at the office for Joe Matarazzo.
Chapter Two (#ulink_05e65ea5-615d-55c4-8da5-ef16fa99ce68)
Laura Birchwood should’ve sent her assistant to the bank to get these stupid papers signed.
But no, Laura had wanted to get out of the office, get some nice fresh air on this relatively warm, sunny April day in Colorado. It had been a long, cold winter and it had snowed even as late as a week and a half ago.
So when it had been in the upper 60s on a late Friday afternoon and her Colorado Springs law office—Coach, Birchwood and Winchley, LLP—had needed the signature of a bank manger here on the outskirts of Denver, Laura had offered to make the trip herself. Her assistant had Friday night plans; Laura didn’t. Laura decided she would have dinner in Denver while she was here. She’d be by herself, but that wasn’t anything unusual.
The two guys pacing frantically with big guns, stopping every once in a while to wave them around and scare the people sitting on the bank floor, were going to ruin her dinner plans.
As pathetic as the plans were.
Laura refused to let herself panic, even when the guys glanced over in her direction. Hysteria wasn’t going to help anything in this situation; as a matter of fact, she was pretty sure the hostage-takers would just feed off it and become more aggravated.
“I have to get them out of here,” Brooke, the young mother sitting next to Laura, whispered. “They’re going to get hungry soon. Get upset.”
She referred to the two girls the mom had with her, a baby maybe eight or nine months, not old enough yet to be crawling, thank goodness, and a five-year-old. Both had done remarkably well so far. Brooke herself had done great. She’d fed the baby a bottle and given the older girl, Samantha, a box of crayons and a coloring book she’d had in her diaper bag.
Most of all she’d stayed calm. Her daughters had picked up on their mother’s cues and had also stayed calm. Laura wasn’t even sure Samantha really understood what was happening.
“Police will be coming, Brooke,” Laura whispered to her. “I have a packet of peanut butter crackers in my purse for Samantha. That will buy us some time.”
“I need to make another bottle.” Brooke gestured to the baby currently sitting in her lap, playing with some teething toys. “And I know her diaper is wet. I’m going to have to talk to them.”
“No, I’ll talk to them—”
Laura flinched as one of the two men, the loud one, let out a loud string of obscenities. “Shut up over there!” he yelled, pacing more wildly.
Samantha looked up from her coloring. “He said a bad word,” she whispered to Laura.
He’d said a bunch of them. Laura wasn’t sure which one the girl meant.
“You’re not supposed to say shut up,” Samantha stated primly, then went back to her coloring.
Laura couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to meet a kid whose definition of foul language revolved around the words shut up.
She had to get Brooke and her two beautiful daughters out of here. She knew drawing the men’s attention to her by asking them to release Brooke and the girls could be dangerous. Laura had no idea what the men wanted. To be honest she wasn’t even sure these men knew exactly what they wanted.
The local police had tried calling the bank. The men had made the employees unplug all the phones and then had hit the assistant manager on the head with their gun. The man was conscious but still had blood oozing down the side of his face. They’d forced everyone to put their cell phones in a trash can and placed it in the middle of the room.
If the robbers decided to start killing hostages, Laura didn’t want to put herself at the front of the line. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to let Brooke do it. And now that there was no way the police could contact the men to see what they wanted, Laura didn’t know how the police could help.
She reached over and squeezed Brooke’s hand.
“Laura, wait, don’t—”
Laura was standing up when a knock on the bank’s front door suddenly drew everyone’s attention. She didn’t have a good angle to take in the whole scene but could see the upheld arms of a man standing there. She quickly sat back down.
The robbers went ballistic.
“Who are you? What do you want?” one screamed at the person at the door, voice shrill.
“We’ll kill everyone in here. Every last one of them. Get away!”
The man outside didn’t move except to gesture to them to unlock the door.
The two men began frantically talking between themselves. Laura couldn’t hear all of it, but knew one of the men at least understood that the man at the door was a hostage negotiator.
Hopefully the guy was a good one.
Finally the two men broke apart from their huddle. The negotiator was still standing arms upstretched by the entrance. Laura still couldn’t see his face.
“You.” One of the hostage-takers pointed over to the bank manager. “Get over here and open the door.”
The manager got shakily to his feet and walked to the door gathering a large ring of keys from his pocket. The robber got behind him, using the man as a human shield, and put the gun directly to the manager’s temple.
The baby started fussing and Laura reached over to hold her so Brooke could get out another bottle. Plus, if bullets started flying Brooke could grab Samantha and Laura could try to protect the baby.
“You better pray that this guy doesn’t try anything. Because you’ll be dead before you hit the floor if he does. Open it just a crack,” the man holding the manager said.
The manager nodded as he put the key in the door. Rivers of sweat rolled down his face. The room remained silent.
“P-please don’t do anything,” the manager said to the man outside. “He’ll kill me if you do anything.”
“Nah, no plans to do anything to make anybody nervous.” The negotiator’s voice was clear and friendly. And oddly familiar to Laura. “I swear to you all, I am unarmed and just here to talk. To see what we can work out. To find a solution where all of us get out of here without getting hurt.”
“How do I know you’re not armed?” the robber yelled from behind the manager, keeping his head down.
“I’m going to reach down now and lift up my shirt and turn around. You’ll see. No weapon at all. No earpiece. Nothing.”
She still couldn’t see his face, but Laura and the rest of the bank were treated to the sight of rock-solid abs as the man lifted his shirt and turned around slowly. Under any other circumstances Laura would’ve just enjoyed the view.
“You could have a gun in your pants,” the other man said. “An ankle holster or something. We’re not stupid.”
“No, you’re right. You’re smart to think of that. Most people wouldn’t.”
The negotiator was good. He’d already tuned in to what the robbers needed to hear: that they were smart, in control. The man ripped off his shirt and dropped it to the ground.
“I’m going to take off my jeans, okay? Not trying to give anyone a show, but you’re smart to check and make sure I really don’t have any weapons.”
Strong muscular legs came into view as the man kicked off his boots and socks and then took off his jeans. Black boxer briefs were all that was left on the negotiator. Laura sort of hoped the robbers would let him in, not only so he could negotiate them out of this mess, but so she could see his face. Would it be as impressive as the rest of him?
“Miss Laura—” Samantha giggled “—that man only has his underwear on.”
Laura smiled. “I know, sweetie. He’s silly.” She bounced the baby on her legs, thankful she wasn’t crying anymore.
“So as you can see,” the negotiator continued, “no weapons. Well, one, if you know what I mean. But I generally only bring that one out for the ladies.” Laura could hear the smile in his voice. “Do you mind if I come in and talk? It’s a nice day but still a little chilly out here in just my drawers.”
“Fine,” the guy behind the bank manager finally said. “Get in here. But if you do anything suspicious at all, I’ll start killing people.”
The guy grabbed his pile of clothes and quickly squeezed through the door. The manager relocked it and the bad guy got away from the danger of the door and pointed his gun at the negotiator.
Laura could feel her jaw literally drop when she got her first full look at him.
Standing there in his boxer briefs was Joe Matarazzo.
She never thought she would see him again. Had hoped she would never see him again. And now it looked like her life was in his hands.
Just went to prove that behind every worst-case scenario, there was a worse worst-case scenario.
* * *
JOE KNEW HE would never hear the end of this little striptease from his Omega colleagues. But he’d been certain he couldn’t get into the bank any other way. These two guys were paranoid, frantic. Joe knew immediately he needed to put himself in a position of seeming to be the beta. Let them feel like they were alpha.
Joe’s pride, his true feelings, his personality, didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting everyone out of the bank safely.
If they had asked him to take off his boxers, he would’ve done that, too. But he was glad they hadn’t.
Joe quickly assessed one half of the bank as he put his jeans back on. The bank manager seemed scared to death and had some bruising on the side of his face—probably took a punch—but otherwise appeared fine. An injured man, also a bank employee, sat propped up against the wall. Looked like he also had received a blow to the side of the face. Bloody, but not life-threatening.
All the bank employees being alive was a good sign. It meant these two guys probably didn’t want to hurt anyone. Probably had planned to rob the bank and things had escalated.
No one was dead yet, so that meant there was a very good chance that Joe could get everyone out unharmed.
“I’m Joe, by the way,” he told the two men as he pulled his shirt back over his head.
“You expect us to tell you our names so you can get a bunch of information on us? No way, man.” Both men had their weapons aimed directly at Joe.
Joe wanted to point out the flaws in their logic: how was he supposed to get any information? He’d just gotten almost naked in front of them so they knew he didn’t have any communication devices. And even if he did, what would a bunch of information do versus two very real guns?
But pointing out the logic flaws would only put them more on the defensive.
“No, nothing like that. I was just wondering what to call you.”
“You can call me Ricky and him Bobby,” the older of the two men said, sneering.
Joe recognized Ricky Bobby. “Yeah, I saw that movie.” Joe smiled. “The kids, Walker and Texas Ranger. Hilarious. Anchorman was my favorite though.”
The men’s weapons lowered just the slightest bit. Good. Just keep them thinking about Will Ferrell and movies. Based on their coloring and size, Joe guessed Ricky and Bobby to be brothers.
He turned casually in the opposite direction so he could see the other half of the bank as he crouched down to put his shoes back on.
There were the kids. Good. A little girl alternating between coloring and watching what was going on and a baby in her mom’s lap. Joe glanced at the mom’s face to see how she was holding up.
And found the angry eyes of Laura Birchwood.
Joe felt the air leave his lungs.
Man, she hadn’t changed at all in the six years since he’d seen her, well, except for the two kids part. She still had wavy brown hair and a face more interesting than it was traditionally pretty. But it was still the face he’d never been able to ever get out of his mind.
The pain that assaulted him at the knowledge that Laura had moved on so completely from him took him by surprise. She obviously had found herself a husband and had a couple of kids, given the cute little baby who bounced on her knees.
After what he’d said to her when their relationship ended, Joe couldn’t blame her for moving on. It still hurt like hell though.
Joe stood from putting on his boots and looked at the two men. He needed to focus.
“Ricky, Bobby, I want to help you guys. They sent me in here to figure out what we can do to work this out peaceful-like.” He carefully didn’t use the word cops in case that was some sort of trigger word for the two men “There’s nothing that has been done here yet that makes the situation terrible. You guys and I can walk out of here right now and everything can be made right.”
That wasn’t totally accurate. Ricky and Bobby would be doing some jail time for this little stunt. But it would be much worse if they killed someone. Joe didn’t really think they were just going to walk out with him, but it was worth a shot.
“No,” Ricky said. “They’ll shoot us as soon as we come out. Or at least arrest us.”
“Nobody wants to shoot you. I promise you that,” Joe quickly interjected. He needed to keep the level of paranoia as low as possible.
“Well, we’re not going out there. Not until we have what we need.” Bobby looked over at the bank manager.
Okay, so they did want something. Probably money. That was good, something Joe could work with, something he could talk to them about.
Something that provided him leverage.
“That sounds reasonable. Is what you need going to hurt anybody?”
If what they needed was to blow up a bank full of people while the press was watching to make some sort of political or religious statement, then it was going to be time for Joe to pull out the sunglasses to signal SWAT awfully quick. But Ricky and Bobby didn’t seem to be the political statement types.
“No,” Bobby said. “What we want is ours. We just want it back.”
To the side, Joe heard Laura’s baby start to cry. He needed to get her and the children out of here. Right now. He couldn’t stand the thought of Laura being hurt again. Or especially her innocent children.
Joe had hurt her enough once. Maybe he could begin to make that right by getting her and her family out of danger.
“Alright, I can do that. That’s why I was sent in here. To see what it is you need and help find a way to get it for you. That’s my only job here, figuring out a way this can end okay for everyone.”
Again, that wasn’t actually true, but the baby’s cries were getting louder. Ricky and Bobby both turned to glare at the child and Joe briefly thought of trying to take both of them down physically himself, but he decided not to risk it. Somebody might get hurt. Plus, it was too early in the negotiation process. If Joe broke their trust now, he would not get it back.
“She’s got to shut that kid up,” Bobby told Ricky.
“Listen, guys...” Joe took a small step closer so they would turn their attention—and weapons—back on him and away from Laura’s side of the room. “I think we can solve a couple of problems here with one action.”
“What are you talking about?” Bobby’s eyes narrowed.
“Like you said, that baby is a huge headache. Plus the people outside—” Joe again was careful not to call them law enforcement or police “—would take it as a sign of good faith if you let the kids and their mom go. Works for everyone. You get rid of a screaming baby, and the people outside know you’re reasonable. Win/win. You’ve still got plenty of people left in here for whatever you need to do.”
Bobby looked over at his older brother and Ricky finally nodded. Joe felt like a hundred-pound weight had been lifted off his chest. Now, no matter what happened, at least Laura and her kids would be safe.
Keeping his eyes on Ricky and Bobby, Joe motioned for Laura and the kids to come over.
“Get the manager to open the door again,” Ricky told him, so Joe turned to the man. The heavyset manager got to his feet and moved to the door.
Joe turned back to reassure Laura as best he could but found another woman taking the baby from her. Clutching the infant in one arm and holding the hand of the little girl in the other, she made her way to Joe.
“You’re their mom?” Joe asked. “I thought the other lady was holding the baby.”
“She was just helping me,” the woman whispered. “Thank you for getting us out.”
Joe squeezed her shoulder. “When the door opens, walk straight across the street. Don’t stop for anything.”
The woman nodded.
“Okay, are we ready?” he asked.
Joe turned to Ricky and Bobby and fought back a shudder when he saw that Bobby now had Laura held right in front of him in a choke hold, gun pointed at her temple.
“If anyone does anything I don’t like, I’ll put a bullet in her,” Bobby said.
Joe ground his teeth. It took quite a lot to get him to lose his cool, but he was finding that a gun to Laura’s temple did it very quickly. He forced the anger down. He needed to stay calm.
The manager opened the door and Joe watched as the woman sprinted across the street, the little girl doing her best to keep up. They were safe. He squeezed the shoulder of the bank manager as he relocked the door.
“Thank you for not trying to run,” Joe said in a low voice. The man could’ve taken off when the door was open. Could’ve saved himself at the cost of other lives. Joe had seen it happen before.
“I couldn’t let them kill someone else because of me.” The manager rubbed his hands down his pant legs. “But I can’t give them what they want. I don’t have what they need.”
Joe’s smile suggested a calm he didn’t really feel. “We’ll work it out.”
Joe finally felt like he could breathe again when Bobby had released Laura and she had sat back down against the wall. She didn’t seem to be hurt in any way or even too scared.
As a matter of fact her hazel eyes were all but spitting daggers at Joe. She looked like she might grab Bobby’s gun and shoot Joe herself.
Joe winced. Guess she hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d said to her six years ago.
He didn’t blame her. And he had to admit, as much as he wanted Laura safely out of harm’s way, his heart had actually leaped in his chest—seriously, he’d felt the adrenaline rush through him—when he realized those children belonged to another woman. Not Laura.
It was time to get this situation resolved so he could move on to more important things. Like talking Laura into dinner with him.
He had a feeling that might take more negotiation skills than even he possessed.
Chapter Three (#ulink_0b823a2c-c9b2-596f-99ff-9473d7a54cf5)
Joe Matarazzo working in law enforcement. Who would’ve ever figured that would happen? Certainly not Laura.
But she had to admit, he had quite deftly handled the situation in the bank with Ricky and Bobby. They had come there to steal the last remaining copy of their father’s will.
Evidently dear old dad had realized what jerks his sons had become and had decided to leave his “fortune” as Ricky and Bobby called it, a sum of just over twelve thousand dollars, to the local 4-H club.
Two grown men had broken into a bank, held sixteen people—including children—hostage, and had threatened to kill them all to get a will. A will that ultimately would only get them twelve thousand dollars if they were successful.
The perfect storm of idiocy.
The bank manger hadn’t had the other key. Every safe-deposit box needed two keys and the manager only had one. That’s when the problem had escalated. Ricky and Bobby thought they could just come in, show some ID and have the box opened. But not without the second key.
Demanding the manager open it by pointing a gun at his head hadn’t changed the situation. He still couldn’t open it with only his one key.
Somehow Bobby and Ricky just hadn’t understood that. They got loud. Someone called the cops and next thing they knew they had a hostage situation on their hands.
Laura had no idea what would’ve happened if Joe hadn’t shown up and defused the situation.
He’d sat down with the two men and the bank manager. The manager swore he would open the safe-deposit box if he could, but that the bank had put security measures in place long ago that required two keys. It’s what kept managers from being able to walk in at any time and take anything they wanted from the boxes.
Finally Joe was able to make Ricky and Bobby understand that. He’d then helped them figure out where their dead father’s key might be. Explained they needed to surrender so they could come back to the bank another time.
That time was going to be after years in prison, and by then the 4-H club was going to have some pretty nice 4-Hing equipment, or whatever a 4-H club used money for, but Joe had left that part out.
Both men had exited with Joe and had been immediately taken into custody. Everyone inside could hear Ricky and Bobby screaming at Joe, claiming he’d lied about being arrested. Joe hadn’t lied, he just hadn’t announced all the particulars of the truth. As a lawyer, Laura could appreciate the difference.
Cops and medical workers then rushed into the bank to see who needed help. As they tended to people, Laura watched with a sort of amazed detachment as one of the large air-conditioning grates on a wall about ten feet off the ground moved and a small woman, in full combat gear and rifle, eased her way out, hung as far as her arms would allow her, then dropped to the ground.
She’d been there, probably since not long after Joe arrived, silently ready to move in if things had gotten desperate.
But they hadn’t, thanks to Joe.
The woman had just made a quiet sweep of the area with her eyes then walked out the front door. Most of the people inside didn’t even notice her.
A uniformed police officer entered and made an announcement. “People, I’m Sheriff Richardson. Right now we’re just trying to ascertain who is injured. If you have any wounds at all, or feel like you’re having any chest pains or anything like that, please let us know so we can get a medic to attend to you immediately.”
Laura’s chest hurt a little bit, but she was pretty sure that was indigestion caused from seeing Joe again.
“Otherwise we ask that you stay in the immediate area of the bank so we can take your statement. Certainly you are free to go outside and get some fresh air. Also to call anyone you need to let them know you’re okay. This event will make the supper-time news, for sure, and you won’t want any family worrying about you.”
Laura doubted her parents or brother would hear about this back in Huntsville, Alabama, but she would text them anyway and let them know she was okay. She would not mention the fact that Joe Matarazzo had gotten her out of the situation safely. Her dad and brother might catch the first flight to Denver and take Joe out themselves.
They’d have to get in line behind her.
The image of Joe stripped down to his boxers and smiling charmingly at the two hostage-taking morons popped into her head unbidden.
Damn, he still looked good. Nothing about that had changed, not that she would’ve expected it to. His tall, lithe body was absolutely drool-worthy: broad shoulders, hard abs that all but begged you to run your fingers over them, trim hips that eased down into long, strong legs.
And that face. Crystal blue eyes and strong, sharp cheekbones and a chin that gave strength to a face that would’ve otherwise been too pretty. Brown hair with natural sandy highlights, straight, a little long with a half curl that always fell over his forehead.
And his smile. Joe Matarazzo had a quick, easy smile for everyone. The man loved to smile, and had gorgeous sensuous lips and perfect teeth to back up his propensity.
His cheeks were clean-shaven now, but Laura knew firsthand how quickly the stubble would grow and exactly how the roughness of his cheeks would feel as he kissed her all over her body.
She stopped the thought immediately. For six years she’d been stopping those types of thoughts immediately. Instead she fast-forwarded to the last memory she’d had of Joe. Him standing outside her apartment and telling her their relationship wasn’t going to work anymore.
That he’d liked her and all, and the last couple of months had been great, but that, let’s face it, she just wasn’t the caliber of woman someone like Joe—with his money and connections and good looks and charm—would be in a long-term relationship with.
Mic drop. Matarazzo out.
Laura could make those little jokes now, almost without wincing. Six years ago she’d just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. Joe may not have used those actual words, but basically said she wasn’t attractive enough for him. Silly her, she’d thought the fact that they’d always had a delightful time together, had the same quirky sense of humor and wonderful conversations had meant something. For the six months they had dated, Joe had led her to believe that he thought it was true, too. Until he just changed his mind out of the blue and ended it.
Not the caliber of woman...
So no, she was not going to let the sight of Joe Matarazzo in just his skivvies get her hot and bothered.
“Um, ma’am?”
Laura looked over at the young police officer who had evidently been trying to get her attention for a few moments.
“Yes?”
“Were you hurt in any way? Perhaps a head injury?” The young officer looked confused.
The only damage to Laura’s head was in her thoughts about Joe. “No, I’m fine. Just reliving the situation. It’s a little painful.” She didn’t state which situation.
“Do you feel up to giving me your statement? Otherwise we can have you come down to the station tomorrow.”
Laura shook her head. No, she didn’t want to have to come back. She gave the officer her statement, telling how Ricky and Bobby entered while she was finishing a meeting with the bank manager to get his signature on some financial paperwork for a client.
If Laura had just beelined it for the door she wouldn’t have gotten caught in the hostage mess at all. But then she thought of Brooke and little Samantha and the baby. Laura had been glad she’d been able to help them.
The officer took down Laura’s information and told her they’d be in touch if they needed anything else, and that she shouldn’t hesitate to contact them if she thought of something more she remembered. She was free to go.
Now all she had to do was make it to her car and get away without having to talk to Joe at all. Not that he’d try to talk to her. After all, what was there left to say?
She supposed she could thank him for doing a good job today and getting them all out alive. She’d been especially impressed at how he’d immediately gotten Brooke and her girls out.
Laura was thankful, but she wasn’t willing to actually talk to Joe to tell him that. Maybe she could send the sheriff’s office a letter with official thanks. Better. More professional.
She stepped out into the brisk April air of Colorado, closing her eyes and breathing it deep into her lungs. She was alive. She was unhurt. She even had the signature she’d originally come to this bank for. Everything was good.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring directly into the gaze of Joe Matarazzo.
The Rockies in all their stark majesty framed the area behind him. The bright cobalt sky made the perfect matching backdrop for the overwhelming force of his gorgeous blue eyes.
It was ridiculous. Like he was something out of a John Denver song or Bob Ross painting.
“Hey, Laura.”
And must the deep timbre of his voice match the sexiness of every other part of his being? Of course. Had God realized he’d given an abnormally large chunk of good genes all to one person? Height, charm, good looks and wealth all wrapped up in one sexy package. Seemed unfair.
“Joe.” It was all she could manage.
“It’s good to see you. I was thrown off guard for a minute when I spotted you in there.”
Laura took a slight step back. He was too close. Anything under a mile was probably too close.
“Well, thanks for getting us out.” She waved her arm like she held a wand. “For doing whatever magic you did and working out the situation so no one got hurt.”
Joe shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
“Wow, a job?” She tried for light laughter, but it came out tense and brittle. “That’s new, right? I didn’t think you would ever need a job.”
Joe looked over to the side of the bank where the press and bystanders had been roped off. Laura hadn’t even realized they were there, but saw dozens of smartphones recording them. Recording everyone coming out of the bank.
“Let’s go around to the side, so everything we say doesn’t end up online.” Joe walked away from the crowd, around a corner, leading Laura with a gentle hand at the small of her back.
She could feel his hand through her blouse as if it seared her. That small touch stole her breath.
And pissed her off.
She didn’t want to react this way, didn’t want to feel anything when he touched her except maybe disgust. She stepped away from his hand, glad there was now no one else around to witness any of this.
“How have you been? It’s been a long time,” he said when they were out of earshot of everyone else.
She just stared at him. She wasn’t sure what to say. If this was some sort of police follow-up to make sure she was okay, then that was fine. Otherwise she didn’t want to make small talk with him as if they were old friends who had just lost touch.
“Seeing you here, like I said, it sort of threw me,” he continued. He shifted a little nervously, but his friendly smile never wavered.
“Well, you did great. You were amazing with Ricky and Bobby.”
He rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t up against mastermind criminals there, that’s for sure.”
“They still had guns and could’ve hurt a lot of people. So I’m glad you were able to get them to surrender. Although they seem pretty mad at you for it.”
They stared at each other for long moments. Laura felt the flare of attraction she knew was only one-sided and realized she had to get out of here. All the damage repair she’d done over the last six years was crumbling down in mere minutes in Joe’s presence.
She took another step back. “I’ve got to go. I gave my statement to one of the policemen inside the bank, so he cleared me to leave.”
His blue eyes seemed to bore into her. She looked away.
“Laura—”
“It was nice talking to you. Glad you seem to have a job you like. Take care, Joe.” There. A reasonable, polite statement.
Now get out.
She took another step back and to the side. Her car was around the other corner, but she’d walk around the entire block out of her way if it meant she could make a clean getaway from Joe.
“Laura, let me take you out to dinner tonight.”
“No.” She knew she was too abrupt, but reasonable, polite statements seemed beyond her now.
Joe put his large hands out, palms up, in an endearing, entreating manner. “Just to catch up. It’s been what, six years? It’s great to see you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Why?” He took a step closer and she immediately took a step back. She had to keep some sort of physical distance from him. “Are you married? In a relationship?”
“No.”
The attraction was still there for her. She didn’t want it to be, but it was. Laura had done her best not to think about him for the last six years while also having to admit that the man had shaped her life like no one else. Because of him the whole course of her career and even her thought patterns had changed.
One brief, cruel conversation with him six years ago had made her into the woman she was today.
“Then why?”
Was he really asking this? Couldn’t figure it out on his own? “I just can’t. There’s too much...” She almost said ugliness, but that reminded her too much of what he’d said to her that night. “There’s too much time and distance between us.”
Faster than she would’ve thought possible his hands whipped out and grabbed both of her wrists. He held them gently but firmly. “There’s still a spark between us.”
Laura’s laugh was bitter, unrecognizable to her. She wasn’t a bitter person. Even though Joe’s words six years ago had shredded her she’d never let herself become bitter, even toward him.
“Spark was never the problem, at least not on my end.” She wrenched her arms out of his hands. “The fact that you thought I wasn’t attractive enough to be in a relationship with you, that was the problem.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_6637093a-69fc-51ee-a2b9-7f393a753600)
Joe watched Laura hurry down the corridor between the bank and the coffee shop next door then round a corner. He wanted to run after her, to stop her, to explain.
To explain what, exactly? That he’d been a jerk six years ago?
Seemed evident she already understood that pretty clearly.
How about that he’d been a fool? That he’d realized long ago how stupid he’d been to let her go? That Laura’s honesty, authenticity and love for life had been something he’d missed day in and day out for six years?
Perhaps he could tell her that he’d nearly called her dozens of times. Had stood outside her house in Colorado Springs like a stalker more times than would make anyone comfortable. That every time he got a little tipsy out with friends it was her number he wanted to drunk-text.
That he’d never stopped dreaming about her even when he’d forced his mind not to think of her while awake.
When he’d seen her holding that baby today, an icy panic had gripped his heart. Because she’d been in danger, but more because he’d thought he’d been too late to right his wrongs. She’d met someone else and fallen in love and made sweet beautiful babies.
When Brooke had stood up and taken the baby from Laura and he’d realized they weren’t Laura’s children, something had snapped into place for him. He hadn’t realized it at that moment but he sure as hell realized it now.
He wasn’t waiting any longer. He had to make things right with Laura. He didn’t know why he’d waited until now to start trying.
By her own admission Laura wasn’t married or seeing anyone. Joe planned to change that. If he could convince her to forgive him. That was a huge if.
But he planned to try. Fate, in the form of two moronic bank robbers, had brought them back together. It gave him the perfect opening to ease back into her life, to apologize in every way he knew how. And think of a few new creative ways if needed.
That would be his pleasure.
And if he couldn’t talk her into giving their relationship a try, he could at least prove himself a friend to her. To erase from his mind forever that haunted, shattered look that had taken over her features when he’d let the press and gossip columns get the best of him and convince him he could do better than Laura Birchwood.
News flash: he couldn’t.
He wouldn’t blame her if she would never become romantically involved with him again, but he was going to try to convince her.
Starting tonight. He’d take a note from his get-whatever-I-want past playbook and follow her home. He’d charm her into going out with him.
He began walking back toward the bank. As soon as he cleared the building he could feel eyes on him. Press and bystanders were all taking pictures and recording the scene and him. Most weren’t looking at him, just knew something exciting had happened at the bank.
But a few people in the crowd knew who he was. He could feel eyes following him in particular. It never failed to make him a little uncomfortable when people seemed to be hostage “groupies.”
Derek, Lillian and Jon were talking to the sheriff when Joe walked up to them.
“We’ll get the rest of the statements and proceed from there. It looks like the manager and assistant manager of the bank were the only ones injured and neither of them seriously.” Jon nodded at Joe in greeting.
That was good. Hopefully the judge would take that into consideration when sentencing Ricky and Bobby, aka Mitchell and Michael Goldman.
“Lillian, Joe and I are going to head back to Omega HQ since you seem to have everything under control,” Derek said, shaking the sheriff’s hand.
“I’m going to stay around for the rest of the evening, if that’s okay,” Jon told the sheriff. “I work crisis management in a lot of cases for Omega and may be able to help you with press or any questions you have.”
“We appreciate Omega sending you so quickly.” Sheriff Richardson turned to Joe. “And we especially appreciate what you did in there. That you kept it from becoming bloody.”
Joe shook the man’s outstretched hand. “The Goldman brothers didn’t really want to harm anybody in my opinion. They just made some bad decisions, which led to panicking and more bad decisions.”
“Either way, me and my men are thankful for how the situation got handled today. I’m sure the hostages are, too.”
Jon and Sheriff Richardson turned back toward the bank while Lillian, Derek and Joe began walking the blocks to where the helicopter had been landed.
“Alright, mission completed. Let’s get home,” Derek said.
Lillian nodded as they began to make their way up to the roof. Joe wanted to move quicker, to rush them, so he could get back to HQ and back to Laura. But he knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything but cause them to dig into why he was in such a hurry. Joe was rarely in a hurry.
But getting to Laura, seeing her again? Touching her again in any way she would allow...
His urgency continued to grow.
He wanted to give her as little time as possible to fortify walls against him. That was why he was going to see her tonight.
Derek rode in the copilot seat next to Lillian, leaving Joe in the back by himself. That was fine. He felt some of the pressure inside him start to loosen as the overhead blades began to whirl and they became airborne.
“Hey, did anyone get video footage of Matarazzo in just his undies?” Lillian asked. “I didn’t have a great view from where I was in the elevator shaft.”
“Oh, you better believe it, sister.” Derek’s amusement was obvious. “I wouldn’t want anyone at Omega to miss that.”
Joe didn’t even care.
* * *
LAURA WALKED INTO her small house in Fountain, Colorado, just south of Colorado Springs, an hour and a half after leaving Joe standing by the side of the bank building.
What a day. She didn’t know which shook her more, two idiots running around with guns or facing Joe again.
She was a liar; she knew which shook her more. But she had kept it together, talked to him reasonably, calmly, like an adult.
And then turned and ran away like a five-year-old.
Laura sighed. She could’ve handled the situation with more aplomb, more pride, more professionalism—all of which seemed to have evacuated her presence when Joe entered her personal space. Thank goodness that only happened every six years so far.
She changed out of her business suit of a black pencil skirt and blazer coupled with a white blouse and slipped on brown leggings and a chunky-knit, cream-colored sweater. She looked at herself in the mirror. The person she saw looking back at her didn’t cause her to cringe or turn away. Laura knew who she was. Not gorgeous by any stretch of the imagination, but she was reasonably attractive—brown hair, hazel eyes, a nose just a touch too small, lips a touch too big. Her five-foot-four-inch frame was just average. As a matter of fact everything about her looks was just sort of average.
Nobody was going to stop and follow her down the streets whistling and catcalling because of her looks, but no one was ever going to run away screaming either.
It was only when you placed her against the backdrop of someone as gorgeous as, say, Joe Matarazzo, that anyone looked at Laura and used words like plain Jane, doleful, or reverse beauty and the beast.
All of those had been said about her when she’d dated Joe. Mostly by people in gossip blogs. Joe had told her to ignore all press, so she had. She thought he had, too. Until he’d proved otherwise by ending their relationship so suddenly.
That had hurt, mostly because the blow had been so unexpected.
When they’d first met she’d expected it. She’d worked nights waiting tables so she could go to law school during the day. He’d come in with a couple of buddies and flirted outrageously. She’d laughed him off, not taking him even the least bit seriously.
After all, how could someone who looked like Joe Matarazzo be interested in someone like her?
But he’d pursued her. Her twenty-three-year-old, slightly socially awkward self hadn’t had a chance against Joe when he’d set his sights on her.
And she would admit, he didn’t have to pursue her long. She gave in. When else would she get the opportunity to have a fling with someone like Joe? He’d been handsome and charming and popular, and the sparks had flown.
She’d been expecting the blow then, too. Once he’d gotten what he’d wanted physically, she thought he’d be gone. But he’d stayed.
Laura knew she had her perks: she was focused and driven when it came to her career, but also cared about people. She tried to be honest and live by the golden rule. But she definitely wasn’t someone who would be labeled as witty, or the life of the party, or a breathtaking beauty.
She didn’t think she’d keep Joe’s attention for long. But when weeks had turned into months and he was still always around, she’d started to believe their relationship was going somewhere.
She’d let her guard down. Let herself believe he was falling for her the way she was falling for him.
That had made the unexpected blow so much harder to take when it finally came. When he’d called off the relationship after they’d been together just over six months, with no warning at all.
Laura straightened as she focused on her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her sweater down. That was all in the past. No more thinking about Joe Matarazzo. Fate had dumped them together today, but that didn’t mean anything.
The doorbell rang and Laura checked the clock. It must be little Brad next door. The seven-year-old sometimes came over to play video games on the weekends. His father was deployed in the military and his mom had her hands full with his three-year-old twin sisters.
Good. An hour’s worth of Mario Kart would cure whatever ailed her.
She bounded down the stairs and swung by and opened the door, not stopping to look at Brad on her way to the kitchen. She needed some fortification if she was going to take on the neighbor boy. He was a fiend at the driving game.
“Brad, come on in. I’m going to throw a frozen pizza in the oven. It’s all over for you tonight, kiddo. No amount of coins or stunt boosts are going to save you this time.”
“I’m not sure what stunt boosts are, but I guess I better learn if they’re needed to save me.”
Not Brad’s voice. Joe’s voice. Laura dropped the pizza on the counter and walked back to her foyer.
“What are you doing here?”
“You don’t sound as excited to see me as you did about seeing Brad.” Joe’s smile was charming, gorgeous. Laura had to force herself not to give in to the appeal, to keep her expression cool.
“That may be because the most hurtful thing Brad has ever done to me was launch a red koopa shell at my Mario Kart vehicle.” She turned back toward the kitchen. “And even then he felt pretty bad about it.”
“Laura...”
Turning her back to him had been a mistake. His long legs had closed the distance between them quickly and silently and now he was right behind her.
“What do you want, Joe?”
He touched her gently on the arm. It was totally unfair that she could still feel sparks of attraction where his skin touched hers. She didn’t turn around.
“Seeing you today... I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I—”
“Apology accepted. You can go.”
It hurt Laura to say the words. But it was better this way.
Joe was quiet for a long time before coming around to stand in front of her. “You have every right not to ever talk to me again. But let me just take you out one time. Let the person I’ve become in the last six years talk to the person you’ve become.”
He reached down and grasped her hands; she could feel his thumbs stroking the back of her palms. “We’re not the same people we were then, Laura. I don’t expect you to get involved with me, but I would appreciate it a great deal if you would just let me take you out one time to apologize for my stupidity then.”
His clear blue eyes were sincere. His face pleading, engaging. A curl of sandy brown hair fell over his forehead as he gazed down at her, and hope lit his features. Laura couldn’t resist him when he was like this. Nobody could resist him when he was like this.
Like you were the center of his world.
But she’d been here before. She couldn’t forget that. This time she’d take some control. She thought about just cooking the pizza she’d gotten out and feeding them both that. Letting him say what he had to say. But being trapped inside a house with him where there was a bed, or a bathtub, or the couch or the kitchen floor nearby was probably not a good idea.
“Fine,” she told him, her breath escaping her body when his worried look turned into one of joy, lighting up his eyes. “I’ll go out with you. But no place fancy. No romance and candles. As a matter of fact, I’ll pick the place.”
His suppressed half smile only added to his charm. Damn him. “Yes, ma’am.”
She poked him in his chest. “And you keep your hands to yourself. You got that?”
His smile turned downright wicked.
She was in trouble.
Chapter Five (#ulink_0b600446-42aa-5425-9869-fc3e568ba846)
Joe seemed different. An hour later, sitting in the restaurant where they’d first met when she’d been a waitress and he’d come in with his friends after a night of partying, she had to admit he wasn’t the same man she’d known six years ago.
He’d grown up.
Although he was two years older, in their previous relationship Laura had always been the more mature one. Now Joe seemed more balanced, more focused. She had no doubt of the cause for that.
“So Omega Sector, huh?” She leaned back against the booth across from him, having finished her meal, and took a sip of her wine. “I never would’ve pegged you for law enforcement.”
“I didn’t have much education, but I had a pretty developed skill set. I decided to see if I could put that to use.”
Laura raised her eyebrow. She definitely remembered certain skills Joe had, but was pretty sure that wasn’t what he meant. She tugged at her sweater feeling a little overheated. “Oh yeah?”
“I had a very observant, honest friend who pointed out to me that I had more potential than to just be a trust fund baby. That I had skills in observation, listening, adaptability. That I was calm under pressure and that people genuinely seemed to like me.”
Laura’s eyes snapped to his face. She had said that to him. Had truly believed it. But she hadn’t dreamed he would take her words and change his whole life.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“Yeah, wow.” He took a sip of his wine. “I repaid the favor by saying some of the cruelest, most ridiculous words that have ever left my mouth. Ever left anybody’s mouth.”
“Joe...”
He reached over and grasped her hand. “I want to make sure you know I’m sorry. That a day has not gone by where I haven’t regretted those words. I’ve nearly called you or come to your house dozens of times, but—”
“Joe.” She stopped him, shaking her head. “You were right. About us. About me not being the right type of woman for you. You were right.”
“No.” The hand not holding hers hit the table just loud enough to cause her to jump. “I was not right. Whatever the opposite of right is, that’s what I was.”
Laura couldn’t help but smile. “Wrong?”
Joe laughed and sat back, releasing her hand, the tension easing from his face. “Yeah, wrong. Wrong to let myself be convinced of it, wrong to say it, wrong not to have apologized for it before now.”
Laura was not one to hold a grudge. She’d learned long ago that bitterness against him only hurt herself and had let it go.
“Well, I accept your apology and even appreciate it. What you said, what those gossip sites said, helped me turn a corner. I realized I was never going to be beautiful, but that I could at least make more of an effort. Style my hair, wear more makeup, make more attractive clothing choices.”
Joe’s jaw got tight as he studied her. “You look great now, but you were fine just like you were.”
“I was...comfortable just like I was. But I realized when I started my own law firm how important a professional image was. Like it or not, studies show that attractiveness affects your level of trustworthiness and credibility with people. I needed to change my image.”
His expression grew pained. “Laura—”
She smiled at him. She wasn’t trying to make him feel bad—the opposite in fact. She wanted him to know that what had happened between them had helped her. “I’m just trying to say that I grew from the situation, like you did.”
“But—”
“No more talk about the past. Okay? Or at least that part. We were young. We were stupid. Let’s just agree and move on.”
He looked like he was going to say something more but stopped and nodded.
Joe told her about some of the training he’d had to do to become an Omega Sector agent and some of his exploits since joining them. Laura told him about her law firm and how it had grown over the last year.
The words flowed easily. Lightly. This was how it had always been between the two of them: comfortable, relaxed. Only when other people had entered the equation had it gotten difficult and complicated.
Laura became aware of eyes on them partway through their conversation but tried to ignore it. Someone like Joe always had eyes on him. How could women not stare, even if they didn’t know who he was? But Laura didn’t like it. Didn’t like the thoughts that began to enter her head. Were they wondering what Joe was doing with someone like her?
Amazing how the blackness could creep in unbidden. No one had said anything; maybe no one was even thinking anything, but Laura could already feel her confidence plummet. She picked at the food she’d ordered, no longer able to enjoy the meal.
She couldn’t do this again.
She wasn’t mad at Joe, the opposite, in fact. Spending time with him just made her remember why she had fallen for him six years ago.
Which was also adding to her panic.
She’d been around him a little over an hour and she was already back to the person she’d been. Worried about her looks, about what people thought. How many different ways did she have to be told that she and Joe were from two different realms before she accepted it as the truth?
Somebody clicked their picture. The flash made Laura wince.
Joe turned calmly to the man. “Hi, we’re having dinner if you don’t mind.” His voice was friendly but firm. Laura saw the manager heading toward their table to ward off any problems, but the man with the camera left.
It could’ve just been anyone who recognized Joe and wanted to snap his picture.
It could’ve been someone from a major gossip rag.
Either way Laura knew she couldn’t stay. She put her napkin down beside her plate; she felt like she had a knot in her stomach that wouldn’t ease. Joe studied her with concern.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I can’t be here with you, can’t do this again. Thank you for dinner, thank you for the apology. I wish you the best, Joe.”
She started to stand, but he grasped her hand before she could.
“Laura, you’re panicking. Don’t. Please.” She felt his thumb brush over the back of her palm. “It was just a photograph and doesn’t mean anything.”
“No, what it was was a reminder. You are you and I am me. Our worlds aren’t compatible. You would’ve thought I learned that lesson well six years ago.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. I wasn’t prepared tonight, but I can take measures to protect you from the press. From the gossip.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Who’s going to protect me against you, Joe?”
He gripped her hand more firmly. “I don’t want you to protect yourself from me. You don’t need to, because I’m not going to do anything that will cause you harm. I give you my word.”
Laura shook her head. She believed that he meant it, but that didn’t change anything. “I can’t be the person who opened up to you so completely before. That person got crushed in the fray. I don’t think she exists anymore.”
“Then open up the woman who does exist.” A moment of pain crossed his features. “I’m sorry. I know I hurt you badly. I wish I could take it all back.”
Laura let out a sigh. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, truly. It’s just I don’t know if I can open up to you. If I even want to.” Didn’t know if the price would be too high. “All I know right now is that it’s been a long day. I need some space. Some time.”
Joe stared at her for long moments. She knew he wanted to say more, wanted to plead his case. Part of her wanted him to, but she knew it could just lead to disaster.
He nodded and let go of her hand, leaning back in his seat. “Okay, you’re right. I’m trying to rush this. To force it. And that’s not what I meant to do at all. So we’ll take it slow.”
“Joe...” She wanted to tell him to just leave her alone for good, that she didn’t want him around her, but couldn’t do it. She couldn’t force herself to say the words.
Because she knew they would be a lie.
He leaned forward pinning her with his blue eyes. “I’m not giving up, Laura. I’ll let you go now, but I want you to know I’m not giving up.”
* * *
LAURA THOUGHT ABOUT his words the entire way home, thankful she’d had the foresight to insist they drive separate cars to the restaurant. She thought about the intensity of his blue eyes and the way his entire body had leaned toward her as he told her he wasn’t giving up.
She had no doubt he meant what he said.
But despite the attraction fairly simmering in her blood for him, Laura knew she couldn’t go through it again. Joe Matarazzo might be the most handsome, charming, wealthy man she’d ever met, but he was no good for her.
She would have to make him understand. Make him see that she wasn’t just playing hard-to-get. That her very survival depended on him choosing to leave her, and the life she’d built, alone.
But was that really what she wanted? Deep down did she hope for something different? For him to pursue her again as he once had?
She had pushed those types of thoughts immediately out of her head for so long that she could no longer even answer them honestly. Even to herself.
She wished the universe would send her some sort of sign.
It did, with a vengeance.
One moment she was driving down a relatively deserted patch of Highway 87, the next another car had slammed into the back driver’s side of Laura’s vehicle.
She screamed as her head struck the side window and struggled to hold on to consciousness, her vision immediately blurry. Her car flew out of control, spinning in a sideways direction almost off the road. She jerked the steering wheel but it didn’t seem to do any good. She looked over her shoulder and found the vehicle that had hit her still pushed up against her Toyota.
Was the other car trying to ram her toward the safety rail on the side of the road?
Laura glanced in that direction for just a second. She knew this part of Highway 87 pretty well. The drop past that safety rail was steep. She would definitely flip if she went over the edge.
Looking back again at the car still locked against hers, Laura slammed on the brakes with both feet, causing her car to stop and the other one to separate from it and speed past. Once her car wasn’t trapped by the other, Laura had control of the steering again and overcorrected, causing her to swing around backward and land hard up against the rail. Her head flew back the other way from the force of the hit.
Her breath sawed in and out of her chest. That driver had to be drunk. Idiot had almost killed them both.
In the rearview mirror Laura noticed the other driver tap the brakes and wondered if the close call with death had sobered the person up enough to realize what they had done. But the car sped farther away. Laura tried to get a glimpse of the license plate but her vision was too blurry.
She sat for long minutes trying to take inventory of herself. Nothing seemed to be broken. She definitely had a knot on her head where she’d cracked it against the window and her hands were shaking. But it all seemed to be pretty minor bumps and bruises, considering she’d almost been run off the road. Overall, she considered herself lucky.
An older couple pulled up behind her—well, in front of her since her car was facing backward—and immediately got out to help. They opened the passenger side door and assisted her across the front seats and out of the car. The police were called and at the scene soon enough.
Laura was tempted to call Joe. He would still be nearby and she knew he would come immediately.
She also knew there was no way he wasn’t going to end up in her bed if she did that.
She would attend to her bumps and bruises herself. At least right now they were just on her body; if she called Joe she was sure he’d soothe all her physical aches. But the ones he’d leave on her heart wouldn’t be so easily healed.
Chapter Six (#ulink_16fd28ed-2dc1-55ec-9e44-f1a9f495c03a)
Convincing Laura to let him back into her life wasn’t going to be as easy as Joe had hoped. Not that he had really expected it was going to be easy. As a matter of fact, he would’ve sworn before Friday there was no way in hell she was ever going to let him back into her life. That she would punch him if he ever dared show his face around her again.
Although he had known she was a better person than that. She had even accepted his apology. But he knew when she left the restaurant she had no intention of ever seeing him again. The person who had snapped their picture had spooked her. Maybe she could agree that Joe wouldn’t be cruel, wouldn’t say unkind things to or about her, but the press?

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