The Recovery Assignment. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
challenge all right.
The bid to assert control was right there in the moment of introduction. Senior Sergeant Lance Currie spotted Owen Hawkins in the corridor ahead of them as he escorted Charlotte to her office.
‘Hawk—slow down for a minute. I want you to meet your new partner.’
Hawk’s reluctance to be distracted from an important mission was clearly evident as the tall figure stopped abruptly, hesitated for just a fraction of a second and then turned. A disinterested expression faltered as he caught sight of Charlotte but he collected himself quickly.
Charlotte gave no hint that she had observed and interpreted his astonishment. She was used to the effect she often had on men. The only effect it ever had on her these days was to harden her resolve to prove herself professionally. In this case, however, it could be to her advantage. Owen Hawkins might find her sexually attractive. She could easily score a few points in any bid for equality by letting him know she wouldn’t be returning the interest.
‘Hawk, I’d like to introduce you to Charlotte Laing.’ Lance’s raised eyebrows suggested that he might have seen that flash of involuntary reaction as well. ‘Charlie, this is Owen Hawkins.’
‘Charlotte.’ The tone of the surprisingly deep voice was cool. There was no suggestion of a smile and the grip of his hand was a shade too firm. Charlotte squeezed right back.
‘Owen.’ She smiled politely. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ The use of his real name was deliberate. Nicknames denoted a relationship of some kind. They needed an invitation for use unless one wanted to appear patronising, and Charlotte already had the distinct impression that trying to patronise this man would get her absolutely nowhere. She held the eye contact unwaveringly, however. He looked fierce rather than mean, she decided. Focussed. Intelligent and…wary. ‘Call me Charlie,’ she added, injecting a little warmth into her smile as she withdrew her hand. ‘Everybody does.’
She expected a reciprocal invitation to call him ‘Hawk’ but annoyingly it was not forthcoming. As a means of putting her in her place it was a subtle move and Hawk managed to make it seem an oversight by changing the subject.
‘Sorry to be in a rush but I’m on my way to a job. I’ll give you the grand tour when I get back.’
‘Take Charlie with you.’ Lance’s suggestion was more like a command. ‘She’s starting work today so we may as well throw her in the deep end.’
Apparent analysis of the pros and cons took only a microsecond. ‘Sure. Why not?’
And Hawk was moving again. His long legs covered the length of the corridor with a speed that would have made anyone else appear to scurry. With this man the movement gave the impression of calm assurance. Charlotte was grateful her own legs were long enough to keep up without effort. Hawk was only a couple of inches taller than her 5’ 11”. She stayed just half a pace behind Hawk, however. That way she could watch him unobtrusively. She was adding tiny snippets of information with every glance. Later she would be able to collate them and decide just what she thought of her new partner.
It was no wonder Laura had been intimidated. Charlotte hadn’t seen him smile yet and that didn’t give any impression of warmth. He exuded assurance but it was too soon to make any judgement on whether that tipped over into arrogance. Charlotte was not going to make any error in underestimating his intelligence either. The way his face was put together—the clear, strong lines of his features and the impression that nothing escaped those dark eyes—was enough to warn her that she might well have met her match on an intellectual level.
‘This way.’ Hawk pushed open a smoke stop door and led Charlotte on a brisk journey down several flights of concrete stairs.
The intimidation must have been enough to blind Laura to the man’s physical attributes, Charlotte decided. He looked as though he had stepped, temporarily, out of the leading role of some adventure movie. A rugged hero who could save the day and any damsels in distress along the way. The crisp, white shirt and dark trousers of his uniform hung and clung to a lean but powerful frame, and Charlotte was getting a good view as she trotted down the stairs behind him. The awareness of such masculinity was irritating. It wasn’t attraction, just…awareness, but that in itself was disconcerting. Easily dismissed, though. Charlotte hadn’t been remotely attracted to any man since Jamie. And she wasn’t about to be now.
Hawk held the heavy door at the end of the next short corridor open and waited for Charlotte to pass him. She did so without thanking him for the courtesy. Would he have done that if he was leading the way for a male colleague?
‘My squad car’s here.’ Hawk wrenched the door open. ‘Our car,’ he corrected himself grudgingly. He glanced briefly at Charlotte—the first eye contact since their introduction. ‘You do drive?’ he queried.
‘Of course.’ Charlotte slid into the passenger seat of the station wagon and reached for her safety belt.
‘Advanced driving, I meant. Have you had emergency response training?’
‘Of course,’ Charlotte repeated. ‘I’d hardly be in a position to do this job if I hadn’t, would I?’
Hawk didn’t bother responding. He activated the car’s beacons and had the siren going as soon as they cleared the ramp from the basement garage. More than one car on the busy road skidded slightly as the drivers braked hard. Hawk slipped the squad car into the gap and then cruised into the middle of the road, putting his foot down on the accelerator as he shot forward between the opposing lines of early morning, inner-city traffic. He knew precisely how well he could do this and he knew he was better than most. Even well-seasoned officers were known to go a little pale when they were his passengers in an emergency response and Hawk had no inclination to tone things down for Charlie.
He stole a sideways glance after negotiating a particularly narrow gap between a crowded bus and a concrete-mixing truck. The faces flashing past in the bus had shown horror at the gap of only inches between the vehicles. Charlotte, however, looked unperturbed.
‘What are we going to?’ she asked.
‘Car versus lamppost that appears to have been fatal. There was bystander CPR on the driver getting started when the call came in.’
‘Driver collapse, maybe?’
‘I don’t make assumptions before I arrive at a scene.’
‘Do you need a map reference?’ Charlotte’s tone was now as clipped as his had been.
‘No.’
Hawk concentrated on negotiating a rapid route through increasingly snarled-up traffic. An accident at this time of day had a surprisingly wide-reaching flow-on effect. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising. Throw a stationary fire truck or two and an ambulance into even a three-laned highway and there wasn’t much space to channel traffic through. There would be police cars as well with officers trying to keep the scene clear and directing irritated motorists to a new route if possible.
Hawk was feeling a little irritated himself. The early callout had presented a welcome opportunity to delay the inevitable meeting with his new partner. He hadn’t expected the mid-corridor ambush but he knew better than to refuse a direction from Lance Currie unless he had a very good reason. His boss had held the senior position at Grisham Street station for many years. He was known behind his back as Elsie, and the nickname was appropriate for more than his initials. Currie was a bit of an old woman when it came to following regulations, observing protocols and dotting every ‘i’ on paperwork. If he’d decided Hawk was to take his new partner out on the job then it wouldn’t have been worth the repercussions if he’d refused.
Charlotte Laing had been even more unexpected than the ambush. Any hope that the potential distraction of working with a woman would be mitigated by her unattractiveness had been felled in a somewhat gut-wrenching swoop. This woman would turn heads anywhere. The only saving grace was that she was totally unlike the type of women Hawk preferred. He liked his female companions to be fun and they were invariably blonde, curvy and at least a little bit bouncy. Fluff, in other words.