X-Ops Exposed Page 38

  “SWAT officers doing paperwork?” She shook her head. “Tell me it isn’t so.”

  The two men laughed.

  “Unfortunately, it’s the bane of all police work,” Gage said. “The more actual cop work you do, the more reports you have to fill out.”

  While the admin part of the job might be boring, Mac did see one thing that caught her attention. Next to the office was a room filled with filing cabinets. If there was something interesting to find around here, that’d definitely be the best place to start.

  She and Gage were heading out the back door of the building when they passed a set of stairs that led up to the second floor.

  “What’s up there?” she asked when Gage didn’t offer to give her a tour.

  Gage paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Some is storage, but most of it is barracks space.”

  “Barracks space?”

  “Yeah. You know—showers, a small kitchen, and a few bedrooms. In case we have to work late or need to keep a crew here on twenty-four-hour shifts.”

  “Oh.” It probably didn’t look like a room at the Ritz, but she had a sudden urge to see it anyway. Where would men like Gage crash after pulling an all-nighter? “Mind if I take a look? Just so I can get a feel for how you spend your downtime?”

  He shrugged and gestured up the stairs. “After you.”

  Mac was about halfway up the stairs when it occurred to her that Gage might have asked her to go first so he could stare at her ass. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder to check and was disappointed to see he wasn’t even looking. Damn. If she couldn’t distract him with her feminine assets, this job might turn out to be tougher than she thought—and it was already tough to begin with.

  As he’d said, some of the space upstairs was dedicated to storage, but there was also a small kitchen with a table and some chairs, as well as a large community shower, and a room with four cots that looked as if they would have fit in just fine on a military base…or a prison. Even the blankets were rough, made of uncomfortable-looking wool. The room also had a wall of gray lockers Gage explained held extra uniforms and personal gear.

  Well, one thing was for sure. No one could accuse SWAT of misappropriating tax dollars for their own comfort. The place was positively Spartan.

  Mac turned to say as much to Gage when she caught sight of the pile of bloody gauze bandages on the counter. Gage must have seen the direction of her gaze because he hurriedly swept them into a trash can with his arm.

  “One of the men got nicked during the hostage rescue,” he explained.

  Martinez. She’d almost forgotten. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. It was just a little scratch. One of our medics patched him up.”

  Mac wasn’t an expert on scratches, but that had certainly looked like a heck of a lot of blood for a scratch. She wished she could swipe one of those bloody bandages so she could get it tested, but there wasn’t any way to do it with Gage standing there. She would have to wait until they put the trash on the curb for pickup and dig through it. Until then, the bloody bandages were just one more nugget of information to be filed away for later.

  As they walked through the bedroom area, she looked at the uncomfortable beds again, then glanced at Gage. “Do you spend much time here?”

  He gave her a wry smile on the way down the stairs. “Unfortunately. I wasn’t kidding when I said we have to do a lot of paperwork. I stay here two or three nights a week just trying to keep up with it.”

  Huh. Guess that answered the question as to whether he had a girlfriend. She already knew from his personnel file that he wasn’t married, but with work hours like his it was safe to assume he wasn’t seeing anyone, at least not regularly.

  They ran into Diego Martinez on their way out of the building. He was carrying what looked like a footlocker on his shoulder. The thing had to weigh seventy-five pounds easy, but he held it like it was nothing. Maybe his injury hadn’t been as bad as it looked—or the designer drug he might be taking made him impervious to pain as well as super strong.

  As Gage made the introductions, she searched for signs that Martinez was juicing, but his eyes weren’t dilated, his hands weren’t shaking, and his skin wasn’t cold and clammy. If he was taking drugs, it was the type that didn’t have any visible side effects.

  She pointed to a series of buildings as they crossed the back of the compound. “What are those?”

  Gage followed her gaze. “We use those to simulate different tactical scenarios. We can practice climbing, rappelling, going through windows, breeching doors, explosive entry—pretty much anything we want.”

  As they got closer, Mac realized that what she’d thought were buildings were actually facades, like something on a Hollywood movie set. Gage gave her a tour, describing the kinds of things the team used them for in more detail. Even though she kept telling herself she was only there to look for evidence of some wrongdoing, she couldn’t help but be fascinated by the training he and his men did. She almost wished she were writing a fluff piece on them.

  She found herself standing a lot closer to Gage than necessary, too. And it had nothing to do with her trying to play him. She might be a journalist, but she was a woman, too. And she couldn’t deny she was flat-out attracted to Gage. Hell, she wasn’t sure there were many women in the world who wouldn’t be attracted to the man. She knew she should fight it, but she didn’t. Instead, she put her covert mission on hold and gave herself permission to have fun.

  He was one of those rare people who could talk about anything she brought up, including local and national politics. She was floored he knew the names and agendas of every political mover and shaker not only in Texas but on the national level and in Mexico, too. Before long, they were talking about topics that had nothing to do with SWAT, cops, or even journalism. And she was enjoying the heck out of it.

  Mac didn’t even realize how much time had passed until she noticed they’d toured at least a dozen training buildings, an obstacle course, a climbing tower that was way too high in her opinion, two shooting ranges, and a beach volleyball court of all things. The next thing she knew, they’d done a whole circuit of the SWAT training grounds and were heading back toward the admin building. But instead of taking her there, Gage led her to a one-floor building without any windows. More storage, maybe?

  “Last stop on the tour. I figured you might want to get a look at our armory.” Gage flashed her a grin. “No offense, but it’s been my experience that reporters seem to have an unhealthy fascination with the weapons SWAT uses for some reason.”

  She smiled up at him. “No offense taken, since I’m a journalist, not a reporter.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “About thirty thousand a year.”

  He chuckled, but didn’t say anything as he opened the door for her. The building was a welcome relief from the blistering temperatures outside, and Mac pushed her sunglasses up on her head. A police officer behind the counter that blocked their entry into the back half of the building looked up when they entered.

  “This is Senior Corporal Trevor McCall,” Gage said. “Beyond his normal SWAT duties, he’s also our senior armorer. He maintains and repairs all our weapons, modifying them when needed. McCall, meet Mackenzie Stone.”

  She shook hands with the officer, marveling that here was yet another hot, muscular guy. She didn’t realize it was even statistically possible for that many attractive men to be in one place. This had to be a record or something.

  “Come on back and I’ll give you the grand tour,” McCall said.

  Gage waited for her to walk around the counter, then followed. There were actually two doors between them and the room where the weapons were kept—the first was made out of a wire material while the other was a solid metal door. Big safes and cabinets lined each wall, along with several shelves with storage bins.

  The men
led her around the room, pulling out weapons and explaining what they were, how they worked, and what the SWAT team used them for. Mac had seen quite a few weapons, from the pistols the gang members in Dallas carried to the assault rifles and machine guns the cartel drug runners used, but she wasn’t an expert and she quickly got lost in all the details as Gage and McCall explained the differences between this carbine and that rifle. She could barely recognize the difference. Then they showed her all the handguns they stored in the various safes and really confused her. All the numbers started spinning around her head like bees—.380, .40, .357, .38, 9mm, 10mm—and those were just the ones she caught in passing.

  “Hang on,” she said, holding up her hand. “Why do you need so many different sizes of guns? Are you guys hoarders or something?”

  Both men laughed.

  “You know, you might be onto something,” McCall agreed. “We’ve picked up most of them over the years, but hardly ever shoot them.”

  “Most of us use Sig 9mms or .40 calibers for both our primary and backup weapons, but I’ve always thought it was a good idea to be as familiar as possible with as many different weapons as we can,” Gage added. “You never know when it might come in handy.”

  They showed her a couple of their favorites, letting her hold them so she could get a feel for their heft and balance.

  Gage eyed her curiously. “You have much experience firing a handgun?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I’ve only fired a gun once. My dad let me shoot his pistol when I was twelve.” She pointed at the big, heavy revolver she’d just been holding. “It was about the same size as that one. Scared the hell out of me and I dropped it. That was the last time he let me try.”

  Gage frowned. “A gun that size isn’t made for someone with small hands, much less a kid.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. While she loved her dad, he wasn’t the most patient teacher in the world, which was ironic considering it was how he made his living. If he knew how to do something, he just assumed everybody else should be smart enough to know how to do it, too. Luckily, he taught English literature and not a weapons class.

  “You know,” Gage said, his dark eyes softening, “if you want to try again, I could show you how to shoot a gun you’d be more comfortable with.”

  Mac smiled. “That sounds fun.”

  Gage smiled at her in return, and she realized after a bit that she was just standing there with a goofy grin on her face. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking away. And caught McCall looking at them expectantly.

  “That does sound fun.” It took her a second to remember what they’d been talking about. That’s right. Target shooting. “We can get all the guys out there—it’ll be a blast.”

  Gage scowled at him, but didn’t say anything.

  Mac wandered around while Gage and McCall put away the weapons they’d dragged out. That was when she saw the hard plastic cases stacked on shelves inside a heavy-duty, wire storage bin.

  She smiled at Gage over her shoulder. “You guys have more guns in there? What, you run out of cabinets and safes to hold them?”

  Gage glanced at her as he closed one of the safes. “Those are our night vision goggles.”

  Mac’s Spidey senses immediately began to tingle. “Like the ones the guys used during the hostage rescue today? They sound cool. Can I see them?”

  “Sure.”

  Gage took the set of keys McCall held out, then opened the gate. He grabbed the first box he came to and opened it, but not before she saw the name of the SWAT officer the goggles belonged to—Mike Taylor. The same Mike Taylor who’d supposedly worn them that morning. But from the layer of dust on the top of the case, it hadn’t been opened in a while, much less earlier today.

  “I would have thought you’d leave these on your response truck,” she said as he handed her the goggles.

  Gage didn’t answer right away. In her experience, that usually meant whatever a person said after that would be a lie.

  “They’re expensive,” he said. “So we keep them locked up here in the cage between incidents.”

  Uh-huh.

  “These are PVS-14 military-grade NVGs,” Gage told her. “They run about four thousand dollars a pop, but are worth every penny.”

  She only half listened as he explained how to wear the goggles and turn them on. Mostly because she was focused on trying to figure out what to make of this new piece of information. Obviously, they hadn’t worn NVGs—as Gage called them—on the hostage rescue that morning. But why not?

  Because the drug they were taking allowed them to see so well in the dark that they didn’t need NVGs? But that was too stupid for words.

  “When you come by to go target shooting, you can try out a pair of these, too,” Gage said as he put the goggles back in the case.

  She nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  That could have come out a bit more enthusiastic, but she was still trying to wrap her mind around why a SWAT team would leave a critical piece of equipment behind when it went on a call. Maybe they’d forgotten to bring them. If so, Gage and his men weren’t dirty, just stupid. And that didn’t explain why they’d been able to see in a pitch-black building.

  Mac gave McCall a wave as they walked out. Damn, the sun was already starting to set. She looked at her watch and saw that she and Gage had been walking around for almost four hours. And while she’d definitely enjoyed herself—maybe a lot more than she should have—she hadn’t gotten anything solid to go on. She’d been so distracted by his charm, tight T-shirt, and amazing good looks, she’d barely asked any of the questions she’d planned. The SWAT commander had handled her with ease, guiding the conversation and keeping her off her game for most of the afternoon. The only thing she could say for sure was that while she didn’t have a clue how all the strange tidbits of information she’d collected were connected, she was even more certain there was a story here.

  But how was she going to get her hands on it? Her day with Gage and his SWAT team was about to come to an end, and she wasn’t sure if a return visit was in the plans—regardless of the casual invitation to do some target shooting.

  “I hope I didn’t bore you too much,” Gage said when they reached the gate. “I couldn’t help noticing you weren’t interested in what I was saying about the NVGs. Not that I blame you—it’s pretty dry stuff.”

  Mac felt her face heat. She hadn’t realized he’d seen her zone out. “I wasn’t bored. I was just a little distracted, that’s all.”

  “Distracted, huh?” His smile was so knowing that for a moment she thought he was onto her. “Why’s that?”

  Damn, he was making this almost too easy.

  “Well…” She gave him a sheepish look. “I was thinking about the fact that I sort of fibbed to you a little before.”

  “Fibbed about what?”

  Despite the way he crossed his arms over his chest to show off those exceptional biceps and pecs of his, he didn’t seem angry. Or even mildly annoyed.

  “Being here for an in-depth story about a day in the life of a SWAT officer,” she said slowly.

  His eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”

  Now came the really tricky part. Straying too far from the truth could get her into trouble, but she couldn’t be too honest, either. Usually, that didn’t bother her if it meant getting a story. But in this case, it did.

  Mac ignored her guilty conscience and pushed ahead. “My editor sent me to confirm a rumor he’d heard about the SWAT team.”

  “What rumor is that?”

  She felt another twinge of remorse and immediately squashed it. This next part wasn’t really a lie—not completely anyway. “That your team is using performance-enhancing drugs.”

  Gage didn’t say anything. Instead, he regarded her with those beautiful dark eyes of his. Crap. What if she’d tread a little too
close to the truth?

  But then he smiled that gorgeous smile. “Since you’re telling me this, I assume you don’t believe that?”

  She moved a little closer, letting her arm brush against his. The brief contact made her body tingle all the way down to her toes, and she quickly stepped back. He was supposed to be the one getting flustered, not her.

  “Of course not,” she said when she finally found her voice. “But my boss is going to need more to go on than my assurances. Especially since I’ve only spent a few hours with you.”

  He considered that. “I can see how that might be a problem. Any idea how you can convince him the rumors are wrong?”

  She threw him a quick glance from under her lashes to see if he’d caught on to her game yet, but his face gave nothing away. “I thought I could hang around the compound for a few days, maybe watch the SWAT team train…”

  “Then your editor would be more likely to believe you when you told him you thoroughly checked everything out and concluded that none of us are using PEDs?” Gage finished for her.

  She grinned. “Exactly.”

  Gage didn’t return her smile. “I wish I could okay something like that, but the department has policies against giving a journalist complete access to the unit.”

  Damn. “Isn’t there anything we can do to get around that policy?”

  He thought a moment. “I suppose I could tell the department we’d been planning this story for a while and that I’m okay with you hanging out with us while you write it.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I think we should spend a little more time talking about what you have in mind for your story before I agree, though. Say, over dinner tonight? If you’re free.”

  Okay, she hadn’t expected that. Not that she minded going out with the handsome SWAT commander. In fact, she should have thought of it herself. What better way to get Gage to open up than over an intimate dinner for two?