“Which is why the team can’t dive it today. Weather’s expected to clear up tonight, and we should have a grand time running evidence recovery. Criminals really do love tossing weapons off the city’s bridges.”
“Only trains run over Hell Gate,” Gavin said. “Someone was dumb enough to try to cross electrified train tracks on foot?”
“Not quite that bad, but not much better. Someone ran across the RFK Bridge on foot.”
“In the middle of traffic?”
“Yep. Slammed on the brakes when he realized the cops in pursuit were getting close. He jumped out of his car, then raced through traffic to the first break in fencing he could find. Tossed the weapon as hard as he could north.” Wyatt smiled, his hands up in the air in a what-can-you-do gesture. “We’re the ones who get to go find it.”
Wyatt made his goodbyes, and it was only as Gavin took his seat again that he caught Sera’s gaze.
“It’s really called Hell Gate?” she asked, a small furrow lining her otherwise smooth brow.
“Yep. The upper portion of the East River. We’ll be in the area underneath the RFK Bridge and a little farther north probably.”
“Wow. I—”
“What?”
“It sounds dangerous, is all.”
“It’s one of the tougher waterways, but that’s why we dive in pairs and have a team working around us, also keeping close watch.”
“Sure. Of course. It’s just that I...” She stopped again, seeming to gather her thoughts. “I didn’t realize just how difficult your job was. Anyone who works in law enforcement has a challenging job with obvious risks. But this sounds like a whole other level.”
Although he appreciated the concern and her obvious bother at the work, he wasn’t entirely clear where it was coming from. “It’s a job I’m trained for. And something I continue to train for regularly. We don’t rest on our laurels or ignore our conditioning.”
“No, of course not.”
“Wow. Be careful there.” He gave the warning as he opened his folder, pulling out the briefing sheet they would work against for the next week. He nearly cursed himself for saying anything, but now that it was out, he realized his emotions had about as much finesse as that criminal who’d run out in the middle of traffic.
Emotions he had no business even having.
Way to be an ass, Hayes. You might as well see it through now.
“Be careful of what?”
“All that concern. You keep talking like that, and I might start to think you care.”
Chapter 3
I might start to think you care.
That rather dismissive brush-off had remained in the back of her mind all day, through her walk home and on through the preparation of dinner.
And damn it—Sera tossed a potholder on the counter after dumping a pot of cooked pasta and boiling water into a waiting colander in her sink—he’d gotten to her. Yes, it was unexpected to walk into the conference room that morning and see him. And yes, she was fully aware that she was nervous and off her game when the two of them had broken off for their committee work.
But that line? Seriously?
I might start to think you care.
Start to?
What an ass.
Only he wasn’t. Despite the tense working conditions and the subtle threads of irritation he wove around her all day, he wasn’t a jerk.
She would bet quite a lot on that fact.
The man she’d spent the night with wasn’t a jerk. The man the NYPD had selected to represent them on a multi-jurisdictional task force wasn’t a jerk. The man who’d fathered her child wasn’t a jerk.
Unable to pivot well with her reentry into his life? Yeah, she’d give him that one. But he wasn’t a bad person. No amount of conference-room bravado was going to change her mind on that point.
Which meant she needed to double down. Leave her irritation at home and focus on the good that would come of working together.
And oh yeah...tell him she was pregnant with his child.
But how?
While it was incredibly easy to put their night together firmly in the column of sexual attraction, part of why it had been so incendiary had nothing to do with the sex. It had been the connection between them.
They’d spoken freely and easily after meeting in the bar. It was the only way she’d have actually gone home with him, if she were honest. She needed that connection in order to feel it was worth taking things further.
And oh, they had a connection.
She’d laughed easily, and they’d talked of so many things. Their work in broad strokes, yes, but more why they were drawn to what they did. How they’d found their paths in life. And what drove them as people.
It had been wonderful to speak freely about her ambition and not feel it was either being judged as too work-focused or worse, threatening somehow that she had goals for herself. Instead, he’d asked her questions and seemed genuinely interested in her answers.
