Page 25 of Fast Justice

His cell phone went off, shattering the fleeting intimacy.

Cursing silently, he pulled it from his pocket and checked the display, prepared to ignore it. But it was his team point man, so he answered, ninety percent of his attention still on Victoria. “Freeman. What’s up, my man?”

“You busy?”

Yes.“No, why?”

“Where are you right now?”

He met Victoria’s curious gaze. “I’m at the range.”

“I need a favor.”

Brock blinked in surprise. Freeman never asked anyone for anything, and wouldn’t unless it was important. “Name it.”

Freeman released a breath. “Just got a call from Taggart. Someone planted a bomb in Rowan’s rental car in her office parking lot. Her brother was critically injured when it went off.”

That drew Brock’s attention off Victoria completely. “Oh, shit.” Freeman was friends with the brother, and if Brock wasn’t way off base, something had been going on with him and Rowan a while back, too. Freeman would want to go to the hospital, but he was currently stuck acting as temporary security detail for Nieto’s mistress. “You need me to come take over for you there?”

“I would appreciate it.”

“Done. Text me the address and I’ll be there within the hour.”

“Thanks, man.”

“No worries. I’ll call you from the road.”

“Sounds good.”

Brock ended the call and put his phone back into his pocket. Victoria watched him, her keen intelligence clear in those velvet-brown eyes. She catalogued everything, analyzing and drawing conclusions as naturally as breathing. It was easy to see why she’d been such a force to be reckoned with in the investigative journalism world. “One of my teammates. Rowan Stewart’s brother was just injured in an explosion at her office.” He only told her because she knew both Rowan and Freeman.

Victoria gasped. “Oh no, is he going to be okay?”

“Not sure. Sorry, but I’ve gotta go.”

“Yes, of course.” She stepped out of the way, clearing a path for him to the door.

His phone dinged in his pocket, no doubt Freeman giving him the address where he needed to go. Ignoring it for the moment, Brock stopped in front of Victoria, unwilling to leave without a real goodbye.

An overwhelming need to touch her pulsed through him. To forge their connection in a physical way. He held out his hand. “Good job today.”

The corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. “Thanks. You’re a good teacher.” She slid her hand into his, the skin of her fingers and palm cool and silky against his own. And she held his gaze, showing him another glimmer of that steely inner strength he’d witness the night of her rescue, and acknowledging their connection.

Whatever it was, she felt it too.

Brock squeezed gently then made himself let go. He’d never enjoyed a shooting instruction session more.

Damn, he hated to leave her so soon, wished he could have invented a reason to spend more time with her, get to know her more in a relaxed setting, just the two of them. Dinner, maybe. Or even a walk somewhere she’d be safe. “Text me whenever you want to do this again. If I’m in town, I’ll make time to see you.”

Searching his eyes, she nodded. “I’m definitely going to take you up on that.”

I sure hope so.A smile curved his mouth. “Good.” He couldn’t remember ever being this absorbed in a woman. After today, it would be impossible to stop thinking about her.

He hurried for the door, aware with every step of the way her eyes followed him…

And that he liked it. A lot.

Chapter Eight

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