The Negotiator by Chris Taylor Read Free Book Online

“I would have been quiet, I assure you.”
    He extended his hand. “Andy Warwick. I don’t think we’ve met.”
    She shook it firmly and offered him a tentative smile. A pulse beat rapidly in her neck.
    “Cally Savage. Nice to meet you. And no, we haven’t met. I only started here this week.” She smiled again and he noticed how perfect her teeth were and how she was even more beautiful up close.
    Blood pounded in his ears and his palms turned sweaty. He felt like a teenager on his first date.
    Cally stared at the carpet; a slight frown creased her forehead.
    He searched frantically for something clever to say. She’s probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
    “So, have you been working here long?” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted them back. She’d just told him it was her first week. Now she really would think him a dolt. A wave of heat stole up his neck.
    He stood and turned away abruptly, covering his mouth with his hand and pretended to be caught up in a coughing fit.
    “Are you okay?” she asked, concern lining her voice.
    He forced himself to turn around, certain his face was now crimson. “Um, I just… Yeah, um, I’m fine. Thanks.”
    She stepped toward him and he instinctively backed away.
    “I’m fine, I really am. But thanks, anyway,” he repeated.
    “Are you sure? “You look a bit…flushed.”
    The door to the squad room opened, saving him from replying. A young boy walked in.
    “Are you nearly finished, Mom?”
    Surprise replaced Andy’s embarrassment. Good looking boy. He watched the lad walk slowly toward them, curiosity illuminating his dark eyes.
    Cally also seemed relieved to see her son. “Jack, honey—this is Andy Warwick. A police officer, right?” She turned to face him.
    “Negotiator, actually, but close enough.” He grinned, relieved to discover his heart had slowed enough for him to think rationally again.
    “Cool.” Jack nodded approvingly. “What does that mean?”
    Andy laughed, appreciating the boy’s forthrightness. “It means I try to help people who are very sad by convincing them things are not as bad in their life or in the world as they may think.”
    Jack came to stand beside him, his face filled with inquisitiveness. “How do you do that?”
    “Well, it depends on the situation a little bit, buddy, but I talk to them about things that are important to them and try to get them to remember the good things in their lives.”
    “Sounds pretty cool. How come you’re so tall?” Jack strained to look up at him.
    Andy laughed. “I don’t know; I just am. My dad was pretty tall, so I guess that’s where I get it from.”
    Jack smiled back at him. “I think my dad was tall, too.”
    Andy noticed the boy’s use of the past tense and flicked a questioning glance toward his mother. Meeting his gaze, she gave him a slight shake of her head, her eyes pleading with him to let it go. He shelved the intriguing information for another time. Besides, he was still so aware of her, he was finding it hard to concentrate.
    “Come on, Jack. We’d better leave Sergeant Warwick to get back to his work, and I’d better get on with mine or we’ll be here all night. I still have the bathrooms to do.”
    “Call me Andy, please,” he interjected.
    Her lips turned up politely. She gave him a slight nod. “Andy it is then.” She turned away.
    Wanting to prolong their conversation, he cast around for something else to say. “How long does it normally take you to clean?” he blurted.
    She stopped and slowly turned back around to face him, her reluctance obvious. “A couple of hours, I guess. We’re usually out of here by eight-thirty. We’re running a little late tonight.” She gave him a tight smile.
    It was obvious she wanted to bring their conversation to an end, but he couldn’t help himself. “That’s quite a late night for a young fellow.”
    She stiffened. Her eyes flashed with anger. He cursed himself silently for saying something