Gotta love female solidarity.
Story aimed the bottle away from her body and twisted the cork, eliciting a loud popping noise and drawing the attention of the surrounding patrons. At least the ones who hadn’t already been watching the scene unfold with rabid interest.
With a shrug, she raised the bottle to her lips and took a long, healthy swig. Whispers and uncomfortable laughter filled the room. For the first time in way too long, she couldn’t have cared less.
“Story, please stop this,” Fisher begged, as he shrank down into his seat.
Holding the bottle by the neck, Story weaved her way through the now-silent restaurant, to-go bag tucked under the opposite arm. To her right, one particular table caught her eye. A man and woman sat shaking their heads.
She gestured with the bottle in their direction. “Oh, what are you looking at? He’s leaving me for someone with a bob. A f**king bob!”
Finally outside, her painfully uncomfortable heels clicked along the sidewalk until she reached the town car Fisher had hired to drive them to and from the restaurant. The driver hopped out and opened the door for her, thankfully without acknowledging the bottle she carried. Story dug around in her purse and produced two twenty-dollar bills before rattling off her apartment address.
Leaning back against the leather seat as the town car pulled onto the highway, Story took another deep pull of the cold champagne, then held the bottle against her forehead as she swallowed. She’d have a bitch of a hangover tomorrow, but at least she didn’t have to teach a room full of kindergartners in the morning.
Thank God for summer vacation.
She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone with the intention of calling her mother. Instead, the device buzzed in her palm, signaling an incoming call. With a frown, she stared down at the unfamiliar area code and slid her finger across the screen to answer.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hi. Is this Ms. Story Brooks?”
She tipped the already half-empty bottle to her lips and drank deeply. “Mmm-hmm.”
A pregnant pause. “I’m calling from Lenox Hill Hospital in New York. Your father, Jack Brooks, was admitted this afternoon following a heart attack. You’re listed as next of kin on his medical records.”
“What?” Story shot straight up in her seat, spilling champagne all over her legs. “He’s not…d-dead, right?”
“No. No, he’s in stable condition. I apologize for not stating that up front. We generally contact any next of kin in these situations.”
“Oh.” Her alcohol-fogged brain struggled to play catch-up. She hadn’t seen her father, Jack, in years. After his divorce from her mother when she’d been a mere child, he’d made an attempt to be in her life, but had ultimately led a separate existence in New York for the last decade. At best, she would describe their relationship as cordial, although he still managed to involve himself, forcing his opinion on her whenever he felt it necessary. Jack Brooks was controlling and a pain in the ass. But he was her father. “Does…does he have anyone there with him?”
“No family, ma’am.”
Story thanked the hospital administrator and disconnected the call just as the town car pulled up in front of her apartment building. She slid her clammy fingers around the door handle and addressed the driver through the glass partition.
“Can you wait for me? I’m going to need a ride to the airport.”
Chapter Two
Jack Brooks, legend among hostage negotiators nationwide, was human after all.
As Daniel Chase sat in the hospital waiting room, he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that his larger-than-life, cigar-smoking, no-bullshit-taking mentor currently lay in a hospital bed, attached to a host of beeping machines and wires. He’d never seen Jack looking anything less than robust, but in mere minutes, hospital visiting hours would begin and all that would change. He could easily flash the nurse his badge and get in early, just get it over with, but he was thankful for the extra time to gather his thoughts.
He glanced around at the functionally gray, devoid-of-character walls, knowing Jack was hating every minute of being confined to this place. They’d learned a lot about each other over the last five years, after Jack had plucked Daniel, a newly minted detective, out of a negotiation course provided by the department. When Daniel excelled in the class, surpassing his fellow officers by a wide margin, he’d been taken under Jack’s wing to learn the ropes. Since then, he’d witnessed Jack negotiate dozens of hostage situations and resolved quite a few of his own.
Somewhere along the line, his mentor had become his friend, despite the gap in their age. Although if an outsider happened to overhear a typical conversation between them, he might assume they were enemies. Friends didn’t come easy to either of them, and it was with a grudging respect that they operated together so well. He still had a lot to learn from Jack.
Daniel wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge exactly where an early retirement from Jack would leave him. At thirty-two years of age, he would be the primary hostage negotiator in New York City. His professional attachment to the revered Jack Brooks all but guaranteed it. How an orphan who’d spent his youth as property of the state had managed to make it to this lofty a position, he couldn’t begin to figure out.
He pushed to his feet and left the waiting room with the intention of pacing the hallway. Sitting still did nothing to help ease his anxiety. As Daniel passed the front desk, he winked at the pretty dark-haired nurse who’d been smiling at him since he arrived.
“Good afternoon…” He discreetly checked her name tag. “Helen.”
She looked momentarily thrown that he’d called her by name, then looked down at her name tag and giggled. “Oh. Good afternoon.”
He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “You know, I’m thinking about getting really sick just so I can check in here and request you as my nurse.” Behind him, Daniel thought he heard a snort, but didn’t turn around to investigate its source.
Smiling, Helen shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”
You don’t say, he thought sarcastically. Obviously Helen wouldn’t offer much in the way of conversation, but he could work around that. There wouldn’t be much talking required for what he had in mind. Another empty exchange that would help numb his mind for an hour, but leave him feeling worse once it ended. It was a cycle he’d learned to live with. One he didn’t know how to break. He wondered fleetingly if Jack would be offended by Daniel picking up a nurse while his mentor lay incapacitated in a hospital bed. He gave a mental head shake. No, Jack would approve and probably pick up one of his own right after.
Daniel slipped the nurse’s phone number into his pocket and headed in the direction of Jack’s room. He’d just rounded a corner, his dress shoes squeaking on the polished floor, when he saw her.
Daniel’s easy stride came to an abrupt halt. The nurse’s name flew right out of his head.
Staring through the glass of the vending machine, an exquisitely beautiful blonde stood looking entirely out of place in her mundane surroundings. Years of training had Daniel registering everything about her appearance in mere seconds. A natural, golden tan starting at her feet and spreading upward until it disappeared under her jean skirt suggested she either lived outside the city or had just returned from vacation.