Much as Jane had hated the idea of a fellow law enforcement officer—male, of course—letting himself into her apartment and pawing through her drawers, there hadn’t seemed to be a good alternative. Her GMC Yukon was one of the more conspicuous vehicles collected out here, and going and returning unnoticed was essential. Besides, any of the guys might have hated having her in his home as much as she did the other way around. And did she want to know that a detective under her command had an impressive porn collection or decorated his living room with a beer-can pyramid or had a kitchen or bathroom so filthy it would turn her stomach? Really, really, no. At least her place was clean.
The Yukon was currently backed into a dirt turnaround, shielded from the main road by a thicket of scrubby trees and blackberries. Rusting barbed wire, only a few feet away, marked the beginning of a pasture holding a couple of horses, one obviously elderly and swaybacked, and, of all things, a donkey. Now she heard a few far-off rustles, followed by a whuffle from the darkness. Animals. They would be supremely uninterested in seeing her seminaked.
Knowing how brief her privacy might be and listening for human footsteps, Jane hastily shed the clothes she had been wearing for two days now, since she’d learned that police chief Raynor’s nephew was being held hostage. Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she bundled them up. She’d managed a shower this morning at Raynor’s house, but had had to put the same clothes back on. Even if she’d been comfortable asking, she couldn’t have borrowed from Julia Raynor, the police chief’s sister-in-law and the boy’s mother; Julia had a slender dancer’s body, while Jane...did not.
She had stepped into the black trousers first and was tugging down the hem of a long-sleeved black T-shirt when she heard the crunch of a footstep.
“Jane.”
She closed her eyes for a moment in resignation. “Sergeant.”
There was a brief second of silence. She had no doubt Clay Renner’s jaw was clenching in annoyance. An attempt to distance herself, her formality was bound to irritate him, and he surely wouldn’t like any reminder that she outranked him, even if they were from different law enforcement agencies.
He stepped around the fender of the Yukon. The night wasn’t quite ink dark yet, but getting there. The moon, only a sliver in the sky, was their friend. Given virtually no cover during the approach, getting half a dozen people in place around the barn where they believed the thirteen-year-old boy was being held hostage would have been a heck of a lot more challenging under the bright silver light of a full moon.
Jane could make Clay out, barely. He was really just a darker bulk against the indistinct background, but she didn’t need to see him to picture him. She’d dated Clay Renner half a dozen times almost a year ago. He was big, athletic and surprisingly light and agile on his feet given his impressive muscles, with a roughcast, angular face that was very male without being handsome. Blue eyes that were too observant. His light brown, sun-streaked hair always looked as if it was in need of a haircut, but felt like the heaviest of silk slipping through her fingers. At thirty-six, he was two years older than she. Idiot that she was, she still remembered his birth date.
“Are you trying to prove something?” he asked, voice low and intense. “That you can do anything the rest of us can do?”
This was why she’d quit seeing Clay.
“I can do anything the rest of you can do,” she said levelly. “And damn well, too.”
He made an exasperated sound in his throat. “You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, she did. “No, I don’t,” she said perversely, reaching for the vest.
The weight settled on her shoulders. Of course, the blasted thing didn’t fit the way it was supposed to. Tactical vests and body armor that actually fit women’s bodies were being manufactured. Unfortunately, the Angel Butte Police Department had yet to purchase any. Of course, a vest that accommodated her inconveniently large breasts was otherwise way too large and too long. She consoled herself that her abdomen was covered.
“You’re going to get stuck going through that goddamn window,” Clay snapped. “That’s what I mean.”
“I’m smaller than the rest of you.”
“Except for your, uh, chest.”
The mealymouthed description surprised her. “Don’t you mean tits?” she said, the heat of anger searing her cheeks. “Or— No, it’s a rack, isn’t it?”
She was pretty sure she heard his molars grinding this time.
“I told you it was nothing but stupid male posturing and I was sorry.”
Like she could forget the way she’d overheard him talking about her to some of his buddies, all fellow cops.
The anger disappeared as fast as it had risen, leaving her feeling...hollow. She shook her head, even though he probably couldn’t see her. “The fact that you’re given to stupid male posturing is enough in itself, Clay. Let’s drop it. I’m a cop. I have breasts. Get over it.”
“You don’t give anyone a second chance, do you, Jane?” His voice was rough.
“You know what I heard was just the icing on the cake. The fact is, you’d never be comfortable having a relationship with a woman cop. I don’t suppose you raised a champagne glass to me when you heard I’d been promoted, did you?”
Silence.
“Didn’t think so.” She tossed her discarded clothing into the back of the SUV, holstered her .38 Ruger and closed the rear door as quietly as possible. “You’d better get changed, too. Your white shirt kind of stands out.”
That wasn’t a lie, even if mostly she was trying to get rid of him. Earlier she’d seen he had on well-worn jeans and a snug-fitting white T-shirt that revealed powerful biceps and pecs. The better to advertise, she’d thought cynically.
“Listen to sense, will you? You being there will distract the rest of us. We’ll all be worried about keeping you safe.”
Was she supposed to be touched? she wondered wearily. “No, Clay, you won’t all be distracted. Astonishingly enough, Captain McAllister and Chief Raynor, at least, respect my abilities. And you know what? I’d really like it if you wouldn’t worry about me.”
He made an inarticulate sound of frustration, snapped, “On your head be it,” and stomped away.
Jane didn’t move to follow him immediately. Instead she gazed toward the dark pasture and struggled to center herself. Pictured the small window she had studied earlier through binoculars. Began to walk herself step-by-step through what she had to do. Shatter the glass. Toss in a flash bang. Sweep the shards off the frame. Hoist herself—
“Is Sergeant Renner going to be a problem?” asked Captain Colin McAllister from only a few feet away.
She gasped and swung to face him. “Damn. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“I can see why,” he said drily.
It was Colin who last year had promoted her to lieutenant, heading the investigative division directly beneath him. Colin, a man who bore some physical resemblance to Clay Renner, enough to, on occasion, push her buttons.
Well, he’d never looked twice at her, not that way. The upside was he treated her with unwavering respect for her abilities. Downside? She was thirty-four years old and had yet to meet a man who treated her with respect and wanted her as a woman. She’d begun to suspect it wasn’t happening.
And was that so bad? She loved her job, and the relationships she’d tried to have had left her pretty sour on men anyway.
“Did you hear all that?” she asked.
“Afraid so. I didn’t want to interrupt. Sorry. When you recommended Sergeant Renner for this team, I didn’t realize you had a history.”
“Not much of one.” She shrugged to suggest how little she cared. “Impulse on both our parts. As you