Swat Standoff. Lena Diaz

moving.”

      The man gave him a look that should have made him burst into flames.

      The radio remained quiet as they strode toward the barn. No one answered Blake’s call. He pressed the button again.

      “Blake to base. Copy?”

      No answer. Maybe they were in a communication dead zone. Cell phones were virtually useless out here. He supposed the same thing could happen even with their powerful radios. Or the equipment could be malfunctioning. Destiny was a small town with an equally small law-enforcement budget. Their equipment wasn’t exactly top of the line and was rarely purchased new. The only reason that Destiny could even afford to have their detectives operate in a dual role as a SWAT team was that neighboring townships augmented the Destiny Police Department’s budget. In return, Destiny SWAT responded to calls across several counties, when needed. But even the extra money never seemed to be enough.

      When they moved into the clearing by the barn, Blake jerked to a halt and drew in a sharp breath. There, lying on the ground, were his teammates—everyone except their leader, Dillon. They were all dressed in green camouflage uniforms, covered with red splotches.

       Chapter Two

      Blake’s prisoner started laughing. He was tempted to shoot the man again.

      “I see you got your suspect,” someone snarled close by.

      He whirled around to see Dillon Gray striding toward him. Beside him, Chief Thornton’s white puff of hair lifted and fell with every step he made. Both of them looked mad enough to wrestle hornets.

      A sinking feeling settled in Blake’s gut. What had he done wrong this time? He looked to his teammates for support. But they were all lying motionless on the ground. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders as Dillon stopped directly in front of him, the chief a few steps back.

      “What happened?” Blake waved toward the team. “I don’t understand. I took out the first suspect in the barn. I know he didn’t get off any shots. And I followed this guy to the river.”

      “There were three suspects,” Dillon snapped. “While you were off gallivanting alone, the third suspect ambushed the rest of the team.”

      Blake’s gaze dropped to the red splotches on Dillon’s chest that added weight to his accusation.

      “But our intel said there were only two.” Blake motioned toward his prisoner, who was still laughing, but was now sitting on top of a rotting log. “This guy took off, so I—”

      Bam. White-hot pain exploded through Blake’s jaw and he slammed back onto the ground. He glared up at Dillon, whose fist was still clenched as if he were ready to punch him again.

      “What the hell was that for?” Blake snarled. “I got two of the bad guys.”

      “Yeah. You did. But you ignored the signals from both Randy and me and went all Rambo on your own.” Dillon waved toward the bodies on the ground. “You weren’t here when the team needed you.”

      Blake shoved to his feet. “I don’t know what has you so fired up. If an entire team can’t handle one bad guy without my help, you should be mad at them, not me.”

      “You idiot.” Dillon took another step toward him.

      The chief grabbed his shoulder. “Easy,” Thornton said. Then he let Dillon’s shoulder go and moved back, making it clear that he trusted his most senior officer to handle the situation. But he’d rather it not devolve into a fistfight.

      Blake wanted to punch both of them. He’d done his job. It was the rest of the team who’d failed.

      Dillon’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he spoke again. “You can get up now,” he told the team. “Everybody reload your paint guns and get fresh camo. We’re doing this again until we get it right.”

      A chorus of grumbles sounded from the others as they stood. But they dutifully headed toward the stacks of supplies on the other side of the clearing, where their gear was laid out for the day’s training exercises.

      “Tim, you okay?” Dillon asked the man who’d played the suspect that Blake had “killed” in the river.

      “A bit bruised. He shot me twice. That second one was out of pure meanness.”

      “Oh, for Pete’s sake. You didn’t go down,” Blake said. “I had to make sure you were dead.”

      “I was in the water. What was I supposed to do? Go under?”

      “It might have been more convincing.”

      The man swore.

      Dillon waved Tim toward the other SWAT team members. “Have one of the others uncuff you. If you don’t want to stay for round two, I understand. You’ll get paid either way.”

      “Nah, that’s fine. As long as he isn’t part of the next exercise.” He angled his chin toward Blake.

      Blake rolled his eyes. The man was being melodramatic. But then Dillon stepped closer, blocking his view of their pretend-perpetrator.

      “That won’t be a problem,” Dillon said. “Blake’s not participating in any more training.”

      Blake frowned. “Why not?”

      “Seeing your teammates lying dead on the ground isn’t answer enough?”

      He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “You obviously staged that for effect.”

      “You’re right. We did catch the third suspect. But it was a close thing. None of us knew there was a third one out here. The chief surprised us with that element, which just proves how important it is to always be alert and operate as a team, watching each other’s backs.” He poked Blake in the chest as if for emphasis. “You were supposed to watch your partner’s back. But Donna said you took off without her halfway through the scenario. What was that about?”

      Blake felt his face flush with heat. He glanced toward the trucks. Donna had already changed into fresh camo and was retying her blond hair into a ponytail. She was also the only member of the team not paying attention to him and Dillon. Had he upset her? Did she feel that he’d let her down?

      She’d been training him for several months, teaching him the Destiny Police Department’s way of doing things, which wasn’t the way he’d been trained in Knoxville. He was supposed to stick with her today. But when he’d seen the suspect racing through the woods, he’d taken off in pursuit, without waiting for his partner.

      “I screwed up,” he admitted. “I didn’t want the suspect to get away, so I chased him to the barn. I assumed Donna would follow. But I lost her.”

      “No kidding. She was scanning the woods, searching for the suspects, and when she turned around, you were gone. Not exactly a team move.”

      Blake clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Not that he’d use them. He and Dillon were both a couple of inches over six feet and equally brawny. No doubt a fight between them would be long, bloody and painful. But that wasn’t why Blake wouldn’t hit him. Blake respected Dillon, even if the sentiment wasn’t returned. He’d never raise his fists against him.

      Too bad Dillon didn’t share the same compulsion.

      Blake waggled his jaw to ease the ache. “I had no reason to believe that Donna was in jeopardy. I would have come back to look for her, but the suspect holed up in the barn, giving me the perfect opportunity to pursue him. Once I took him out, the other suspect appeared. What was I supposed to do? Ignore him? Let him go?”

      “What you’re supposed to do, always, is follow orders. Your primary objective today was to stick with your partner. I made that crystal clear this morning. Failing that, when I signaled for you to