by Diana Duncan
Liam, O’Rourke brother number three, sauntered in the back door with his K-9 partner, Murphy, alert at his heels. She knew better than to try to pet the big German Shepherd. Murphy was working, his posture all business. His intelligent brown eyes watched Liam, awaiting a hand signal or verbal order. “No explosives or booby traps, at least outside the home.”
Aidan’s youngest brother, Grady, who was a paramedic as well as a SWAT officer, spoke a low, rapid-fire tattoo of medical jargon over the landline.
Each time she watched Aidan and his brothers in action, her admiration grew. She’d love to dip her toes in the incredible gene pool that had produced four handsome, courageous, selfless men. The boys resembled the pictures she’d seen of their dad. In contrast to her murky background, the O’Rourkes had inherited awesome DNA.
Liam flashed her a five-hundred-watt smile. His sunny grin was dazzling, yet her previously dancing hormones had taken five. Funny, she’d always preferred bright, sunlit days. But lately, she’d grown partial to storm clouds. Liam tweaked her with their running joke. “Hey, Geraldo. Find Al Capone’s vault yet?” The opposite of Officer Scowly, easygoing Liam was rarely without a grin, and accepted her as one of the gang. He offered no-strings affability, a rare and valuable commodity in her experience, and she wasn’t about to shun it.
“Hey yourself, Deputy Dog. Want to give me breaking details?”
Aidan and Con had rich, warm brown eyes like their dad. Grady’s eyes were clear gray-green, but Liam’s were the true, deep green of the Emerald Isle, and now they twinkled at her. “And risk getting pounded by the A-man? Pass.”
Zoe offered Shelly a wave and an encouraging smile, glad to see the previously wan woman looking hopeful. Sitting in a room pulsating with testosterone could do that to a gal. If these guys couldn’t save her children, nobody could.
Aidan turned to Zoe, his face stony. Their near-miss kiss might never have been. “As long as you’re quiet, you can stay. The minute you let out a peep, you’re gone. Is that clear?”
Zoe nodded. She didn’t expect his attention on her in the midst of a hostage crisis, nor would she respect him had it been. Yet, deep down, his cold dismissal stung. A smile wouldn’t kill him. “As ice.”
Greene drew the men aside to show them several diagrams. Aidan’s laser gaze focused on Greene, and he seemed to have forgotten Zoe existed. She caught a peek of the emergency dynamic entry plan, formed in case the team had to storm in and rescue the kids. She stayed still, barely breathing, not drawing attention to herself as Greene continued to brief Aidan.
“Our negotiator, Wyatt Cain, is stuck on the other side of the city, with the river between him and us, and the bridges are up. You’ll have to negotiate.”
Aidan didn’t bat one long, gorgeous eyelash. “Fill me in.”
“Since Eric got fired, he’s spiraled downhill. Another potential job flatlined yesterday, and it sent him over the edge.”
Aidan scrubbed a hand over his strong jaw. “We’ve seen suspects crash and burn over less.”
“True. He’s been on a four-day bender…beer, pot and cocaine, which reached critical mass last night. He accused Shelly of cheating on him and beat the hell out of her.” Greene’s words were even, but his expression was fierce. “When he finally fell asleep early this morning, she left the kids with a neighbor and went to the pharmacy for a prescription. He woke up and discovered her gone, saw the kids playing outside in the neighbor’s yard and snatched them, then barricaded everyone inside the house. The neighbor called dispatch and said she saw him brandishing a hunting knife.”
“In other words, he’s totally unpredictable.” Aidan frowned. “A freaking time bomb.”
“It gets worse. The medication Shelly went to refill was for the four-year-old, Emma. She has asthma. There’s an inhaler inside the house, but we don’t know if Kincaid has allowed her access.”
Anger crackled inside Zoe. How could a husband and father do such horrible things to his family? Sick regret drowned the anger, and nausea churned in her stomach. She knew better than to ask. She and her mom had spent their lives on the run from her own father. The fact that she didn’t know who he was, or anything about him only intensified the terror. She took a deep breath and forced her focus back to the situation at hand. The past was over. She was done running from the bogeyman.
“Doc Holliday is briefed and prepared for that?” Aidan glanced at Grady, who nodded. All SWAT team members had code names. Aidan was Alpha Eight, because he was the last of the eight Alpha team members inside, last to take cover. He was the rear guard, the man who protected everyone’s backs.
Zoe had researched the teams. The more she learned, the more she was in awe. SWAT officers were amazing in their bravery and dedication. Unflinching in the face of death, they performed the most dangerous jobs, took the hairiest risks. When other cops called 911, SWAT answered. True-blue warriors, they did their jobs and left. No accolades, no thanks. Riverside SWAT officers made a whopping dollar more an hour for life-threatening duty, and donated hundreds of hours of their own time to train. Unless a situation escalated, like today’s, nobody even knew the officers’ lives had been on the line.
Soon, she’d have enough material to propose a week-long feature to her boss. She burned to inform the public about the sacrifices these men made to protect them. She’d lived in more than a dozen cities and never paid any attention to SWAT teams until recently. They deserved admiration and respect.
She reported the truth, but these selfless men lived it.
At Greene’s nod, Aidan continued. “Has Kincaid beaten his wife before?”
“Yeah. He has a history of domestic violence.”
Aidan’s jaw clenched, and a muscle ticked in his cheek. “What about the kids, he hit them, too?”
“The wife says no.”
“One thing going for them.” His voice was tight. “Let’s hope he doesn’t cross the line today.”
“We tossed in the throw phone. Attempt to establish contact.”
Zoe glided to the table and sat beside Shelly. The woman reached for her hand, and Zoe gave it a squeeze.
Aidan turned away to access the throw phone. “Hello, Eric?” Concentration hummed in every controlled movement. “This is Officer Aidan O’Rourke with Riverside PD. What’s going on?”
The throw phone had a speaker, so everyone in the room could hear Eric Kincaid’s slurred answer. “The ball-and-chain called 5-0, huh? Figures.”
“I’m here to help.” Aidan kept his tone low and soothing. “But I have to know what’s happening.”
“The bitch has been sleepin’ around on me.” Kincaid adopted a self-pitying whine. “Nobody gives a shit.”
“I care.” Sincerity rang true in Aidan’s words. “I want everybody to walk out of your house safe and sound, including you. How are Kylie and Emma?”
Shelly’s grip on Zoe’s hand tightened, but she didn’t make a sound.
“I can’t get a damn job anywhere, man. They won’t even hire me to sling fries.”
“That’s frustrating, and must make you feel angry and powerless.”
“Yeah.” Kincaid’s unsteady voice rose and fell randomly. “I got no money, and my wife don’t want me no more.”
“Your wife is very worried about you. You want to talk about your problems, Eric, and I want to listen. But, first, I need to know how your daughters are. Are they all right?”
“Can’t you hear the brats? Shut up!” His shriek was muffled, as if he’d moved the receiver away from his mouth.
“They’re scared. They don’t understand that you’re not angry at them.” Aidan paused, presumably to let the statement sink in. “If you hurt Kylie and Emma, there won’t be anything I can do for you. The police officers surrounding your house will take you to jail.”
Zoe pursed her lips. For a man who ruthlessly restrained his own feelings, Aidan excelled at pinpointing Eric’s.
“Aw, they’re okay. The little one’s whining about not breathing too
good, but she always snaps out of it.”
Shelly clutched Zoe’s hand. Zoe slid an arm across her shoulders and hugged her. “It’ll be all right,” she whispered in Shelly’s ear. “Aidan will help her.” Zoe knew that Aidan would find a way to save the little girls.
An hour later, she wasn’t so sure. Aidan had tried everything to get Eric to let the children go, or at least allow Grady to treat Emma. Aidan was walking a fine line, both sympathizing with Eric and controlling him, and doing an incredible job. But Kincaid wouldn’t budge. “Work with me, Eric. Send out Emma and Kylie, and I’ll give you something you want.”
“Hey, man, you got any scramble?”
Aidan frowned. “You know I can’t give you drugs.”
“Why the hell not? Everybody knows cops got the quality candy.”
Aidan ignored the jibe. “How about some smokes? Or maybe you’re hungry? Let’s order out for burgers, or a pizza.”
“You’re starting to piss me off, pig!” Eric shouted like a sulky, spoiled child.
Obeying Aidan’s earlier command, Shelly had remained quiet. As Eric’s anger escalated, her desperation grew. Pale and visibly shaken, she leaned over and whispered in Zoe’s ear, a mere thread of sound. “When Eric is stoned, he loves to play his electric guitar and perform for his sleazy buddies. Maybe the cops can use that to get him to come out.”
Zoe grabbed a pen, scribbled a note on the back of a blank intel report, and then jumped up and passed it to Aidan.
He arched a brow, nodded. “I understand you play the guitar. Send out the girls, and you can play and sing for us. There are fifty cops out here. Lots of rock fans in this crowd.”
Not only tempting, but a subtle way to let Kincaid know he was totally outnumbered. Her cop was good!
“Rad idea, man! Are there reporters? I can wail on live TV!”
“I might be able to arrange that, if you release Kylie and Emma.”
“I wanna be on TV first. Then I might let ’em go.”
Aidan scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “All right. Can you hold on while I try to arrange it?”
“Sure.” Eric giggled drunkenly. Obscenely. “Don’t got nowhere to go.”
Aidan pressed a hold button and turned to Greene. “No way. Lord knows what he’d do on live TV. Besides, every lunatic in the city would be clamoring for their turn on the tube.”
Zoe tiptoed back and whispered to Shelly, “Do you have cable TV?” Shelly nodded, and Zoe strode up behind Aidan. “Aidan,” she ventured. “I think I can help.”
He swiveled, his face etched with anger. “I told you to butt out.”
“I have an idea.”
“Yeah, you have plenty of those, but I’m not interested in good ratings.” He dismissed her with a brusque wave.
“Uh, bro?” Liam shifted his stance, and Murphy’s ears twitched. “Chill out, and at least listen to what she has to say. You’re sure as hell not getting anywhere.”
Aidan shot Liam a look that would melt steel, but turned back to Zoe. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, let’s hear it, Brenda Starr. What’s the million dollar brainstorm?”
Zoe tamped down her own anger. They both had the same goal—to save those children. Personal grievances could wait.
“With a couple of hundred feet of coaxial cable, connectors and a splitter, you can hook a camera into the house’s cable jack from outside, and also to a TV inside the SWAT armored truck. The closed circuit will ‘broadcast’ Eric’s performance to both. He’ll think he’s on live TV.”
Aidan studied her. Was that admiration burning in his gaze? “And Command can monitor the officer who goes inside with the camera.” He gave a nod of respect. “Smart, Zagretti.” Warm fuzzies swirled inside Zoe at his rare compliment.
Greene turned to Liam. “Procure the equipment, set up the war wagon.” The CO yelled into the living room. “Send a uniform to get Aidan’s civvies out of his car!”
Zoe swallowed hard. That meant Aidan would be the man going inside with the camera. The man facing the threat.
Liam jogged out with Murphy trotting at his side, and Aidan told Eric he’d soon be on “live TV.” Again, he tried to convince him to set the girls free, with no luck.
In less than fifteen minutes, a camera was connected to the Kincaids’ cable jack and also to a TV inside the huge armored truck the guys referred to as the war wagon. It had taken a remarkably short time to pull everything together. Zoe’s throat tightened. To a tiny girl trapped with a raging junkie and struggling for breath, it probably seemed an eternity.
Shelly waited in the command center house with several uniformed officers, while the SWAT team and Zoe reconvened inside the war wagon. The driver parked in front of the neighbor’s driveway, so the team could storm in if they had to perform an assault-and-rescue.
Zoe had imagined the vehicle’s interior as dark and cramped, with Uzis and battering rams hanging on the walls. Instead, it was clean and airy. White cabinets lined the walls, and the dove-gray ceiling sported a bright fluorescent light. If she didn’t know that the cabinets bristled with weaponry, she’d think she was in a cozy office.
The team, including Grady and Liam, with Murphy alert at his feet, waited on padded gray benches beside the back doors. In the front, Zoe assisted Aidan and Captain Greene with the equipment hookup. A narrow counter supported a computer and the portable TV where Greene would monitor Aidan’s progress.
Dressed in his jeans and white shirt, with a Kevlar vest hidden underneath, Aidan stood next to Zoe as she showed him how to operate the camera. Her palms sweated with the effort to appear unaffected. This was the first occasion they’d spent any time in close proximity, and even under the tense circumstances it was an exercise in sensual torture. The man smelled scrumptious.
She pressed a button, and the team swam into view. Captured in the viewfinder, Liam gave them a thumbs-up. “This model is a little focus-challenged, so you have to keep adjusting.”
“No problem.” Aidan’s big, warm hand brushed hers as he rotated the dial, and her insides jittered. “Kincaid is a little focus-challenged himself. He’ll never notice.”
Whoa, a joke? She grinned at him in pleased surprise, and he arched a brow. What do you know? Her cop had a sly sense of humor lurking under his perpetual scowl.
For a man about to confront a volatile, knife-wielding druggie, he was amazingly calm. Not that she expected otherwise. Even last winter when his brother was trapped with armed bank robbers, Aidan had orchestrated the rescue as coolly as a Fudgesicle in Antarctica. He never showed fear. Did he feel afraid? She didn’t have enough experience with men to know. Especially tough guys. News anchors didn’t count. They freaked if their hairstyle looked bad or ratings dropped two-tenths of a point.
Aidan passed her the camera, and then secured a gun to his ankle. He already wore an earpiece and hidden throat mike that would keep him in verbal contact with Greene if he had to abort the visual transmission. He tugged his pant leg into place, and shrugged on his denim jacket. An inhaler for Emma was in the pocket. Grady stood by to treat Emma the instant Eric was neutralized.
Aidan took the camera from Zoe. “Ready to roll.”
She gave his hand a brief squeeze. “Be careful.”
His inscrutable gaze didn’t divulge any of his secrets. “Always am.”
He strode toward the doors. As one, the team stood. The men offered smart-ass comments and slaps on the back underscored by genuine concern.
Grady, Liam and Aidan slapped palms and said in unison, “Fortune favors the brave.” From the looks of it, a familiar pre-battle ritual. Their gazes locked and a silent, heartfelt exchange passed between them. For one poignant moment, they were brothers instead of cops.
Liam smiled. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
Aidan snorted. “Short list, bro.”
Grady shook his head. “If you end up wounded, I’m not notifying the wedding party that the best man is AWOL.”
Aidan rolled his eyes. “Con would
understand.”
Liam’s smile widened into a wicked grin. “On the other hand, the mothers, bridesmaids and the bride-to-be…yikes! Facing a mob of furious females in formal wear? Uh-uh.”
Grady chuckled, displaying his dimples. “I’d rather go mano a mano with crashing meth heads. Naked.”
Zoe’s heart lurched. Nobody’d mentioned that Aidan could die. Cops probably couldn’t afford to think that way, or they wouldn’t be able to do their jobs.
Aidan’s lips quirked. His second hit-and-run with a near smile in an hour. “See you later, girls.”
“Big brother, you are so full of crap, your eyes are brown.” Grinning, Liam saluted as Aidan propped the camera on his shoulder and exited the vehicle.
Zoe stayed glued to the television screen. Via the camera lens, she saw through Aidan’s eyes as he approached the front door and knocked. “Mr. Kinkaid, I’m here to put you on TV.”
Zoe held her breath as the door swung open and Eric appeared. His pale eyes were red-rimmed, and a scraggly beard darkened his gaunt face. His brown hair was rumpled, his clothing disheveled. He brandished a huge, notched knife in his right hand, and sun glinted off the blade. He peered at Aidan, then the camera and grinned drunkenly. “Great, man.”
He stood to one side and Aidan stepped into the living room. Drawn blinds cast the room into sinister shadow. Beer bottles and cigarette butts littered the coffee table, sprinkled with grainy powder residue where Eric had snorted lines of coke. Two little blond girls huddled on the couch, the smallest as white as death and wheezing audibly. They stared wide-eyed at the stranger, but remained mute, terrorized beyond crying out.
