“I won’t,” she promised. “Now, stop worrying. I’m going to go see Ted. Don’t eat all my pita chips while I’m gone.”
Ted Simms had been her editor since she’d started working at the newspaper. A big man with a serious twang and more awards than Mac could even name, Ted could be a teddy bear one minute and a grizzly the next, but she wouldn’t want to work for anyone else.
He looked up from his computer when she walked in, his bushy brows coming together over his reading glasses. “Where the hell have you been all day?”
She flopped down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I told Zak to tell you I’d be out at the SWAT compound.”
“For five hours?”
“Four, actually.” But who was counting? “I got the guided tour. And starting tomorrow, I’ve been given a free pass to spend the next few days with them.” She grinned. “No one has ever gotten this kind of access, Ted. No one!”
She didn’t expect her editor to fist-bump her or anything, but he looked as if he’d just eaten something that didn’t agree with him.
He took off his glasses and set them on the desk. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to spend too much time with those SWAT guys, Mac.”
What the heck? She’d just told him she got a ticket on the fifty-yard line of the biggest game in town, and now he didn’t want her to go?
“Ted, I know you think these SWAT guys are squeaky clean, but I’m telling you they’re up to something,” she said. “I promise I won’t print a word unless it’s Pulitzer-worthy. If this turns out to be a simple case of cops on the take, I’ll drop the whole thing.”
Her editor sighed. “Do you know who was killed during the SWAT raid this morning?”
The sudden change of gear caught her off guard. “What? No, I don’t know who it was. And this may sound terrible, but I saw the video of how the guy was acting—slapping women around and waving his gun everywhere—so I don’t have a problem with him being dead. The SWAT team may be up to something, but they did Dallas a service by killing that thug.”
“That thug was Ryan Hardy.”
“As in the son of Walter Hardy?”
She wasn’t on a first-name basis with many thugs, but she knew Walter—everyone in Dallas knew him.
“Yes.” Ted’s mouth tightened. “His only son. As in the kid the crazy bastard dotes on.”
Now she was the one who felt as if she’d eaten something that didn’t agree with her. “Oh, crap.”
“Yeah—crap. Now do you understand why you need to stay away from this?”
Mac understood all right. She’d made a living out of dealing with some unsavory men, but Walter Hardy had to be at the top of the heap when it came to assholes. Drugs, stolen cars, prostitutes, sex slaves, weapons, murder—if there was an illegal way to make money and hurt people in the process, Hardy was involved in it. And in almost forty years in the business on both sides of the border, no one had ever come close to proving anything. He’d never even been taken in for questioning, much less arrested.
Part of it was because the man was more intelligent than the average criminal. He was Oxford educated and had multiple degrees to go along with a ton of street smarts. On top of that, he was rich beyond belief. And in a city of very rich men, that was saying a lot. He owned more real estate and cargo ships than anyone could count, not to mention that he sat on the board of a dozen major companies. To say he was powerful and connected was putting it mildly. He was definitely a man people didn’t want to mess with.
“Rumor is he believes the federal, state, and local governments conspired to kill his son because they couldn’t get to him. He’s overlooking the fact that his son broke into a bank, shot several cops, then took all those hostages—all on video.” Ted shook his head. “But facts never get in the way for people like Hardy.”
No, they didn’t. “Okay, so Hardy thinks the government is out to get him. What does any of this have to do with my investigation of SWAT?”
“Because while Hardy might not be able to go after some supposed government officials who gave the orders to kill his son, he can go after the people who pulled the trigger. He’s going to make someone pay, Mac, and that someone is SWAT.”
Her editor had good reason to be worried, but as sensible as it was to keep her distance from all things SWAT at the moment, she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t that she was crazy or reckless. She simply knew a good story when she saw one. And this story had just gotten better.
Ted must have figured that out, too, because he sighed. “I’m not going to be able to stop you, am I? Then at least promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will,” she said. When he lifted a brow, she added, “I promise.”
* * *
Gage knocked on her door exactly on time. No surprise there. He’d probably gotten to her apartment building ten minutes early just so he could drive around and memorize the layout of the neighborhood.
Mac gave her reflection one more look in the bedroom’s full-length mirror, wondering for about the tenth time if she should have worn jeans instead of the little black dress she had on. But somewhere between the fourth and fifth change of clothes, she’d admitted to herself that this date was about more than simply being a means to an end. She liked spending time with Gage. That wasn’t such a bad thing, right?
Of course, if Gage took her to the local pizza place down the street, she was going to regret not wearing something more casual.
Her worries disappeared when she opened
