She and Gage were heading out the back door of the building when they passed a set of stairs that led up to the second floor.
“What’s up there?” she asked when Gage didn’t offer to give her a tour.
Gage paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Some is storage, but most of it is barracks space.”
“Barracks space?”
“Yeah. You know—showers, a small kitchen, and a few bedrooms. In case we have to work late or need to keep a crew here on twenty-four-hour shifts.”
“Oh.” It probably didn’t look like a room at the Ritz, but she had a sudden urge to see it anyway. Where would men like Gage crash after pulling an all-nighter? “Mind if I take a look? Just so I can get a feel for how you spend your downtime?”
He shrugged and gestured up the stairs. “After you.”
Mac was about halfway up the stairs when it occurred to her that Gage might have asked her to go first so he could stare at her ass. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder to check and was disappointed to see he wasn’t even looking. Damn. If she couldn’t distract him with her feminine assets, this job might turn out to be tougher than she thought—and it was already tough to begin with.
As he’d said, some of the space upstairs was dedicated to storage, but there was also a small kitchen with a table and some chairs, as well as a large community shower, and a room with four cots that looked as if they would have fit in just fine on a military base…or a prison. Even the blankets were rough, made of uncomfortable-looking wool. The room also had a wall of gray lockers Gage explained held extra uniforms and personal gear.
Well, one thing was for sure. No one could accuse SWAT of misappropriating tax dollars for their own comfort. The place was positively Spartan.
Mac turned to say as much to Gage when she caught sight of the pile of bloody gauze bandages on the counter. Gage must have seen the direction of her gaze because he hurriedly swept them into a trash can with his arm.
“One of the men got nicked during the hostage rescue,” he explained.
Martinez. She’d almost forgotten. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. It was just a little scratch. One of our medics patched him up.”
Mac wasn’t an expert on scratches, but that had certainly looked like a heck of a lot of blood for a scratch. She wished she could swipe one of those bloody bandages so she could get it tested, but there wasn’t any way to do it with Gage standing there. She would have to wait until they put the trash on the curb for pickup and dig through it. Until then, the bloody bandages were just one more nugget of information to be filed away for later.
As they walked through the bedroom area, she looked at the uncomfortable beds again, then glanced at Gage. “Do you spend much time here?”
He gave her a wry smile on the way down the stairs. “Unfortunately. I wasn’t kidding when I said we have to do a lot of paperwork. I stay here two or three nights a week just trying to keep up with it.”
Huh. Guess that answered the question as to whether he had a girlfriend. She already knew from his personnel file that he wasn’t married, but with work hours like his it was safe to assume he wasn’t seeing anyone, at least not regularly.
They ran into Diego Martinez on their way out of the building. He was carrying what looked like a footlocker on his shoulder. The thing had to weigh seventy-five pounds easy, but he held it like it was nothing. Maybe his injury hadn’t been as bad as it looked—or the designer drug he might be taking made him impervious to pain as well as super strong.
As Gage made the introductions, she searched for signs that Martinez was juicing, but his eyes weren’t dilated, his hands weren’t shaking, and his skin wasn’t cold and clammy. If he was taking drugs, it was the type that didn’t have any visible side effects.
She pointed to a series of buildings as they crossed the back of the compound. “What are those?”
Gage followed her gaze. “We use those to simulate different tactical scenarios. We can practice climbing, rappelling, going through windows, breeching doors, explosive entry—pretty much anything we want.”
As they got closer, Mac realized that what she’d thought were buildings were actually facades, like something on a Hollywood movie set. Gage gave her a tour, describing the kinds of things the team used them for in more detail. Even though she kept telling herself she was only there to look for evidence of some wrongdoing, she couldn’t help but be fascinated by the training he and his men did. She almost wished she were writing a fluff piece on them.
She found herself standing a lot closer to Gage than necessary, too. And it had nothing to do with her trying to play him. She might be a journalist, but she was a woman, too. And she couldn’t deny she was flat-out attracted to Gage. Hell, she wasn’t sure there were many women in the world who wouldn’t be attracted to the man. She knew she should fight it, but she didn’t. Instead, she put her covert mission on hold and gave herself permission to have fun.
He was one of those rare people who could talk about anything she brought up, including local and national politics. She was floored he knew the names and agendas of every political mover and shaker not only in Texas but on the national level and in Mexico, too. Before long, they were talking about topics that had nothing to do with SWAT, cops, or even journalism. And she was
