Hard Beat(111)

T

anner Thomas is a household name on the foreign beat. I’ve heard he’s a strict professional who is returning to the field after a tough blow with the loss of his partner. The unfortunate turn of events is admittedly horrible, but it makes him a perfect match for me. Someone who probably doesn’t want to team up with anyone new and by the laws of human nature won’t want to get close to anyone right now.

Laughter erupts on the other side of the room, causing me to glance over to where I last caught a glimpse of Tanner’s back. As always on a mission, disinterest is my best friend. It allows me to slip below the radar, slide seamlessly into the flow of things, and always remain on the periphery.

But as I observe the various reporters, producers, and photographers working their way toward him, it strikes me there is something different in the atmosphere tonight. The general mood in the room is lighter, energetic, and in some inexplicable way has a sense of hope.

I don’t want to attribute it to the presence of Tanner Thomas. It’s ludicrous to believe that a single person can breathe life into a community as has happened tonight.

But there’s no denying it either.

And it’s not just the alcohol flowing more freely than normal. There’s a current in the room that’s indescribable. It’s like they know he’s finally returned, so things are going to start happening here again instead of the day-after-day monotony that has been the norm since I arrived more than two weeks ago.

“C’mon, T-squared!” someone yells with a slap of his hand on the bar, and I start craning my head back and forth to see between the crowd of bodies from my spot on the other side of the bar.

“I’m game if you’re game!” A voice booms before I can catch a glimpse of what’s going on. I don’t need to see whose lips are moving to know it was Tanner speaking, because chills raced over my skin at the sound of the familiar baritone I know from watching his broadcasts. It’s likely just the knowledge that I’m so close to pulling my boots up and wading straight into the thick of my cover that causes the goose bumps to come. That undeniable thrill of anticipation.

That has to be the cause of the sudden fluttery feeling in my stomach.

Another reporter I’ve spoken to on a few occasions, Gus, I believe is his name, hands me a shot with a whoop of a laugh, and before I can even ask why, a hush falls over the room.

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” Pauly, a fellow reporter, climbs atop a chair, a shot glass filled with amber liquid in one hand and his other motioning for the lot of us to quiet down. He looks down to his right, and for the first time I catch a fleeting glimpse of Tanner’s face before the crowd shifts and I lose sight of him again. “Tanner Thomas… we are so glad to see your ugly ass back in this shithole. I’m sure once you hand our asses to us time and again by getting the story first, we’ll want you to leave, but for now we’re glad you’re here. Slainte!”

“Slainte!” I say back in unison with the rest of the crowd; then the sound of swearing fills my ears as the burn of the alcohol hits everyone’s throats.

Needing to appear to be a part of the group, I take a sip, but I know well enough that a drunk woman in a city like this is just asking for trouble. And I get in enough trouble on my own, thank you.

When I glance back through the crowd again, I’m startled when I lock eyes with Tanner. It’s only a split second of time, just long enough for me to tip my shot glass to him before someone moves and blocks our connection, but it’s enough to have me holding my breath and for that fluttering to return in my belly.

I sit there in complete indecision for a second, since that momentary connection disarmed me for some reason when I’m hard to rattle. Jesus, Beaux, it’s not like you’ve never met a mark before. Exhaling slowly, I tell myself that I need to keep my wits. It was stupid for me to search him out since I don’t plan on introducing myself to him face-to-face until our assigned meeting at ten tomorrow morning. Besides, my new boss, Rafe, might not have even told him about me yet. He warned me Tanner was going to resist the idea of a new partner, that he might be tough on me. Little did Rafe know that in my line of work, tough is an everyday norm.

So if I don’t plan on meeting Tanner until tomorrow, why do I keep looking back to where he’s sitting? What am I going to gain with one more glimpse of him?

Absolutely nothing.

And yet I look again. This time there is a complete break in the crowd, and I catch Pauly’s eyes. By the way he smirks at me, then looks over to Tanner and throws his head back with a laugh, I know they are talking about me. Call it woman’s intuition or just plain curiosity, but I know. And now I definitely can’t look away.

The problem, though, is that not looking away means that my gaze moves from Pauly to Tanner, and this time I’m afforded more than just a glimpse of him. I’m granted the whole entire package.

Dark hair frames his tanned face, and there’s something intriguing about his eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on across the distance. I don’t have a chance to consider it for very long because when he shifts his gaze and his eyes lock on mine, I freeze in place – lips shocked open, heart skipping a beat – and a flash of something I want to deny as being attraction flickers through me.

But this time I recover quickly and turn my lips up into a slow, knowing smile as we hold each other’s gaze. In contrast to the flash of hunger I catch in his eyes, he nods his head nonchalantly with an arrogant curl to his mouth before looking away.