the table from the sexy cop in the privacy of her apartment made her so giddy with anticipation she felt like a teenager.
What should she make for dinner?
What kinds of things would they talk about?
Would this be the start of a relationship like Beth suggested or a one-time thing?
Bree glanced at her phone, wondering if it would be okay to call him. It was lame, but she wanted to hear his voice. She could always say she wanted to confirm their dinner plans.
Picking up her phone, she was scrolling through her contacts for his name when it occurred to her that Diego might still be at that bank robbery. The memory of what he’d done at the diner came rushing back, and her chest tightened. Damn, she was on the verge of hyperventilating over the safety of a guy she’d just met and barely knew.
Bree fought to control her breathing, telling herself to calm down. The bank robbery Diego had gone on was long over. He was fine. In fact, he was probably already home watching TV. Or playing video games. Or reading. Or whatever he did when he wasn’t on duty.
But just in case he was still at work, she decided to text instead of call him. Then forced herself not to check her phone every five minutes for a reply.
* * *
“Leave us the hell alone and go away!”
Diego jerked the phone away from his ear, wincing at the loud crash on the other end. Well, there went another one of the bank’s landline phones, smashed to bits like all the previous ones when he’d tried to talk the bank robbers into giving themselves up or releasing some of the hostages or letting him send in food or any of the half-dozen offers he’d tried in an attempt to gain their trust.
These guys were more unbalanced than the man at the diner.
Biting back a growl, Diego set down the phone, then walked to the door of the SWAT RV and stepped outside. Keeping an eye on the front of the bank and the pieces of furniture the hostage takers had piled up in front of the entrance, he flipped through the handwritten notes he made earlier during his discussion with the regional manager of the bank, double-checking to see if there was another phone number he could try. But after going through five pages of scribbles, it wasn’t looking good.
Diego smelled his two pack mates approaching before he heard them. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was Trey and Hale. While Mike was talking to the on-scene commander a few feet away and Connor was on the rooftop across the street, using his scope to maintain a visual on the suspects in the bank, Trey and Hale had been scouting out the back of the building, making sure they had a clear path to the skylights that overlooked the bank’s lobby. That was the way they’d go in if Diego wasn’t able to talk the three gunmen out. Considering the standoff was approaching its fifth hour and they’d now lost their last phone line into the bank, a tactical breach was looking more and more likely. But with the way the hostage takers were starting to behave, Diego was concerned going in might push them over the edge.
“They still not talking?” Trey asked, stopping beside him.
Diego shook his head. “Oh, they’re talking, but they’re not giving me anything I can work with. The best I’ve been able to do is confirm that there are three armed men in there and that the bank guard and the other four hostages are alive. And while I doubt this is going to be big news to either of you, I’ve also confirmed we’re looking at guys who are as whacked out as the other people we’ve been dealing with lately.”
Trey and Hale did little more than shrug, like they’d already figured out that last part. Given the way the men in the bank frequently shoved the furniture aside so they could lean out one of the broken windows and shout things that made no sense to anyone but them, it was kind of obvious.
“You don’t think there’s any way you’ll be able to convince them to come out of there?” Hale asked, his gaze going to the bank.
Diego let out a sigh. It might be quiet inside right now, but he had no illusions it would stay that way. “I wish I could say I see this all