New York's Finest Rebel. Trish Wylie

      ‘I don’t have to answer to you.’

      ‘Do you have any idea how much paperwork I’ll have to fill out if I accidentally shoot you?’

      She arched a brow. ‘Accidentally?’

      ‘That’s what I’ll call it.’

      A lump appeared in her cheek as her gaze searched the air. ‘That’s twice in twenty-four hours you’ve threatened to shoot me. I wonder if that’s enough for a restraining order. Remind me to ask your sister.’

      ‘He tossed you out of his apartment, didn’t he?’

      ‘What is it with this sudden obsession with my sex life?’ She looked into his eyes. ‘If I didn’t know any better I might think it’s been a while for you.’

      Longer than he cared to admit, but it wasn’t as if he could share a bed with a woman for long. He could guarantee his complete and undivided attention while he was there; took a great deal of pride in that fact. But when it came to leaving them satisfied, there was just as much emphasis on the word leaving. Preferably before he was dumb enough to fall asleep and risk making a fool of himself.

      ‘Worried I might be lonely, babe?’

      She scowled. ‘Don’t call me babe.’

      ‘If the shoe fits …’

      ‘You know by saying that you’re saying you think—?’

      ‘You don’t have to like someone to think they’re hot.’

      ‘I … You …’ When her mouth formed words that didn’t appear she clamped it shut, took a short breath through her nose and snapped, ‘What are you doing?’

      Damned if he knew but the fact it had flustered her worked for him. ‘Isn’t he a little old for you?’

      Something unreadable crossed her eyes before she blinked and lifted her chin. ‘Who are we talking about?’

      ‘The guy you were with in Bryant Park.’

      ‘What guy?’

      Nice try, but Daniel had never been known to give up that easily. ‘The one you argued with before you dragged him into the subway station.’

      ‘You were spying on me?’

      ‘You think when I’m dressed like that I’m supposed to ignore what’s happening around me?’

      She sighed heavily and turned away. ‘I don’t have the energy for this.’

      ‘It’s Wednesday. We’ll pick it up in the coffee shop.’

      ‘No, we won’t.’

      As her door opened he saw her shoulders slump as if she’d been putting considerable effort into disguising how exhausted she was and the proximity to home allowed her to relax. Most folks were the same at the end of a long day but Daniel knew it was more than that. If he hadn’t, he would have got it when she glanced over her shoulder.

      Long lashes lifted and for a split second what he could see in her eyes made him frown. He recognized it because he’d seen it in the eyes of men in combat and guys who’d been on the job as a cop for too long. Given no other choice he might have admitted he had been avoiding looking for it in his own eyes in the mirror of late.

      If a person’s eyes were really the windows to the soul, part of hers was close to giving up the fight.

      He took a step forward before he realized he was doing it, compelled by the need to say something, but unable to find the words. With the men he had worked with they were never needed. There was a silent understanding, an empathy born from shared experiences. A nod of acknowledgement could say as much as a hundred words. Cracking jokes or discussing something inane was more welcome. But someone as full of life as Jo shouldn’t—

      When her door closed with a low click, Daniel made a snap decision. It wasn’t as if he had much choice. If she was in trouble and his family knew he hadn’t done something, they would make the roasting he got from his captain look like a weekend barbecue. Taking a long breath, he stepped back and closed the door. In order to prepare for battle he was going to need a few more hours of—hopefully uninterrupted—sleep.

      Come daylight he was venturing into enemy territory.