Chapter One
“What the fuck do you mean a
woman?” Corporal Marc Bryson all but sputtered over the chief’s desk and
the too-tidy piles of paperwork, which were perfectly spaced apart on the
spotless surface.
The chief, who just happened to be his older brother, lifted an
eyebrow. “I would hope you would know what a woman is by your age, Marc.
Though, now that I think about it, you never did bring any women home when you
squatted at my house.”
“Oh, very funny. And I wasn’t squatting. I gave you money every month.”
Max Bryson snorted.
“Anyway, let’s get back to this discussion—”
Max cut him off at the knees. “There will be no discussion. Period. I
hired her and you’re going to be her FTO.”
Marc didn’t want to be some woman’s Field Training Officer. No way, no
how. Women shouldn’t be cops. Ever.
“Why do I have to train her?
Why not Dunn?”
“Because I said so.”
What the fuck. Big
brother says so and that’s all, folks. Fellow officer Tommy Dunn wasn’t
going to be the new rookie’s FTO because he was too easygoing, he would coddle
the female, not train her for the real world in policing. And Marc would. Plus,
Dunn wasn’t certified to be an FTO. Though, that was just semantics. Right?
Shit. Marc wouldn’t give any slack to a woman fresh out of the academy. Max
knew how much he opposed women in law enforcement. If she wanted to be treated
as an equal, then Marc would have no problem being tough and inflexible with
the rules just because she was a w— new recruit. Right.
Fine. But he didn’t have to be happy about it.
“Let me just remind you that you’re a corporal now. I warned you when
you accepted the promotion that with the buck increase in your weekly salary
you’re getting,” Max snickered, “more responsibility.”
Max was obviously enjoying this, not giving a flipping fuck how Marc
felt about this new “responsibility.” If
his older brother could find a way to bust his balls, he did it.
Fighting this would be pointless. Marc exhaled loudly in defeat. “When
does she start?”
Max glanced at his black G-Shock wrist watch. “As soon as Dunn is
finished issuing all her equipment.”
Marc’s head snapped up and he thought he’d have to shove his eyeballs
back into their sockets. “Today?”
Max laughed. “Got a problem with that, Corp?”
Marc took another deep breath. He kept playing into Max’s hands. He
needed to act like this whole thing didn’t bother him. Otherwise, Max would
ride him hard until he broke. Big brothers were assholes like that. The power
of becoming chief had gone to his head. He didn’t know how his wife put up with
him.
Oh, that’s right. Amanda didn’t take any of his shit. One misstep and
that woman brought him to his knees. Whap!
Marc looked down at the floor while he chuckled.
“Something funny, brother?”
“Nope. Max, you interviewed her, so what does she look like?” He hoped
she wasn’t someone prissy, more worried about breaking a nail than doing actual
police work. Nor did he want a beast. A woman who would look like she could
break Marc in half.
“It shouldn’t matter what she looks like. Get your priorities straight.
She graduated the academy at the top of her class. That’s what’s important.”
“Chief, we’re done,” Tommy Dunn called out from the hallway as he
turned the corner. His large, lanky body suddenly filled the office doorway and
Marc couldn’t see the new officer.
Apparently neither could Max. “Why don’t you get the hell out of the
way, and let her through? Get back out on patrol. I’m sure Mrs. Johnson needs
her cat rescued again.”
The redhead shuffled his feet. “No problem, Max.”
Marc shook his head and chuckled softly. He
waited. Dunn never learned.
Max cleared his throat loudly and gave Tommy the stink eye. “Excuse
me?”
Dunn’s face paled, which illuminated the countless freckles covering
his face. “I meant chief. Sorry,
Chief.” With a mumble, Dunn backed up, then jerked forward as he bumped into
the person behind him. He excused himself and rushed off.
Marc leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms and ankles and
waited, a frown front and center on his face.
After a few moments of no sign of the rookie, Max barked, “Grant, get
in here!”
A figure appeared in the open doorway and she stood at attention, her
body stiff and tight. Marc did a preliminary inspection, starting at her feet.
She wore black tactical boots, the dark blue summer uniform of the department,
a full duty belt that looked like it weighed more than she did, and as his gaze
rose, her torso looked out of proportion. What
the hell?
Something looked seriously wrong with her Kevlar vest underneath her
uniform.
Marc jumped to his feet and stood with legs apart, pointing at her
chest. “What’s wrong with your vest?”
A blush rose from the tight collar of her shirt into her cheeks as she
stared at his finger. “Sir, it’s too big, Sir.”
Fuck that double “sir” shit. Academy bullshit they drilled into you.
While attending the academy, you could be at the grocery store on the weekend
and have to ask a stock boy a question and you’d start and end the question
with a sir. Sir, where are the kumquats,
Sir? The teenager would look at you as if you’d grown two heads.
“I’ll order you a new vest,” Max said. “Just bear with that one for
now. I don’t want you going without. It’s in our Field Regulations.”
“Sir, yes, Sir.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, drop the sir echo,” Marc barked. Okay, maybe a
little harsh for the first day, but he was annoyed. Just a tad. This whole FTO
thing was a flaming bunch of bullshit. And now he was stuck training someone
who probably would faint at the sight of blood and hide when shit went down.
“And stop standing in the doorway. Get in here front and center.”
She rushed to the center of Max’s office, heels together, fists clamped
to the sides of her thighs, head up, eyes staring forward focused on some spot
above Max’s head.
“By the way, Grant, the corporal here will be your FTO.”
Marc narrowed his eyes at the wide smile his brother wore. Then he
caught the quick flick of her gaze toward him before pinning it straight ahead
again. He circled her closely, looking her up and down. He checked the tuck of
her uniform shirt into her pants, he checked the crease on her sleeves—it had
to be centered from her shoulder directly through the patch to the hem. It was.
He moved around to stand directly in front of her, less than a foot away. By
being in her personal space he was testing her. Would she step back or stand
her ground?
He flicked her name tag with his index finger. “Your tag is crooked.
Fix it. Did you even read the regulations?”
As she repined the black and silver tag that said GRANT straight with trembling fingers, Marc wondered if Max had
even provided her copies of the department’s Administration and Field
Regulations as well as their SOPs—Standard Operating Procedures—yet.
“Sir—”
“Corporal,” Marc corrected her sharply.
“Corporal…” Her eyes jumped to his nametag. Confusion crossed her face,
but it was hidden in a flash. “Bryson. I have studied the SOPs, the FRs, and
the ARs as required.”
Well, well, well. Max was on it. Good for big brother. And good for the
recruit. But she’d have to do a lot more than that to impress him.
“Every day while you’re in field training expect to be inspected like
this. Get used to it. And make sure you’re squared away before beginning your
shift.”
He studied her from head to toe one last time. But this inspection was
of her, not her uniform. She stood about five-six. She probably weighed a
hundred and twenty pounds at best. And she was young. Maybe twenty-five. Young enough to think she could make a
difference out in the world. She may be disappointed.
He sucked in a deep breath, steeling himself for what, he didn’t know,
but it turned out to be a mistake. A big one. He inhaled her unmistakable
scent. Not perfume, no. It was light, floral. He couldn’t help sniff a little
more, trying not to be obvious. It was her shampoo, or her soap, or her body
lotion. Something that caught his attention. Her dark hair was pulled back into
a thick, tight bun, not a stray hair to be seen. It made him wonder how long it
actually was when let down. Her thick eyelashes surrounded amazing hazel eyes.
It had to be his imagination when they flashed different colors, from gold to
brown to green, all within a dark outer ring. Had to be; irises didn’t change
colors. Her nose was thin and straight, her cheekbones high and blooming with
color from his detailed inspection. And her lips…
Fuck. Marc stepped back and cleared his throat.
Max cut into his thoughts. “Grant, why don’t you go and wait in the
patrol room. Your FTO will be with you in a couple minutes so he can start
showing you the ropes. Close the door on your way out, would you?”
“Thank you, S— Chief.” She
spun on the ball of her right foot and marched stiffly out of the office.
Polyester uniform pants were never flattering on anyone, man or woman,
but somehow she managed to make her tight little ass looked good in them. A
sigh almost slipped past his lips.
“Was it good for you?” Max asked him.
“What.”
“You stripping her bare in your head.”
“I didn’t,” he grumbled. Was it that obvious? He didn’t want to check
for it, or even look, but he might
have a chubby.
“Keep it professional. Don’t make me have to write you up, or worse,
for doing something stupid.”
“Why did she have to be so—”
Max slammed his palm on the desk top, making Marc jump. “Don’t fuck
this up, Corporal. We’re already
shorthanded and I need her. We need
her. With Matt still overseas and since Chief Peters retired, there’s been a
gaping hole. Unless you want to work constant doubles, then do everything you
can to make sure she’s trained properly and is an asset to this department. As
for you being stuck with all sixty days of her training, I have no other
option. You’re it until our baby brother gets his feet back on American soil.
And even then, I don’t think his head will be in the game enough to train
another officer.”
Once their youngest brother gets back from his stint in the Marines, it
could be possible that he would need refresher training anyway.
Like it or not, Marc will have to spend the next two months as their
new female recruit’s shadow. He was so screwed.
