HotTango (10 page)

Cole watched the play of emotions across Tanya’s face. The
shine of tears in her eyes, the pink tinge of rage on her cheeks, the pained
creases on her brow and around her mouth.

He’d done this.

All on his own.

Did he really want to give her up? Even if it was for her
own good?

He stood at the precipice, words on the tip of his tongue
he’d thought about saying, rehearsed in the mirror ages ago, but they
evaporated. There was no way he could follow through with it. He stepped back
and leaned against the entry table.

“Cole, please say something.”

He gripped the edge of the table and stared at the floor.

Where would he be without Tanya? He’d rejected undercover
work though his superiors had tried to recruit him. Maybe he’d be deep
undercover, miserable and alone, with no one who knew the truth about who he
was. That he was the kind of person who stood up for the Deborah Smiths and
helped plant trees.

“I don’t know what I’m saying.” His voice shook and he
tasted bile.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not good enough. You don’t get to
spew accusations against my dad and say the D word, then walk away. Where did
this come from? I thought we were getting to a better place.”

He met her glare with his own. Being young and headstrong,
he’d told her father he loved Tanya and wasn’t letting her go. Over time he’d
developed a relationship with his father-in-law, but those first years had been
rough. “If you want to know what your dad said, go ask him.”

Tanya reached behind him to her purse and fished out her
cell phone. She jabbed in a number and held the phone to her ear, her gaze
never leaving him.

“Hi, Dad. I have something to ask you. I want you to tell me
the truth, please.” She paused and listened to the other end of the line. “Did
you ever tell Cole he didn’t deserve me?”

Tanya’s father was right. Cole didn’t deserve her, but he
loved her with his whole being. If he could shove those words back in his
mouth, he would. The look she’d given him outside had made him feel as if he
were six inches tall and about the most disgusting creature on the planet.

“Dad, we’ll talk about this later. I need to go. Love you
too.” She hung up the phone and turned away from him, one hand covering her
mouth.

“Tanya, I’m sorry.”

She whirled on him, jabbing her finger against his chest.
“Why would you keep something like this from me? We’re supposed to be a team.
Through good times and bad, that’s what we promised, Cole.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, congratulations, you have.” She wiped her nose and
the first fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I want to know why, Cole.”

There were so many answers. He didn’t know where to start.
He shrugged for lack of a better answer. “Why what?”

“Do I need to go halfway across the fucking planet for us to
have an honest-to-god conversation? What’s wrong with us that we can’t be in
the same room and talk?”

“That’s not what I mean. I just want to know what you want
to know the why of.”

“All of it.”

This was a mess. He should never have snapped.

Cole scratched his head and gestured toward the den. “Maybe
we should sit down.”

“Fine.”

Tanya marched ahead of him into the same room they’d had
their picnic in. The candles still sat on the coffee table. She crossed to an
armchair and sank down in it, effectively cutting him off physically.

He didn’t blame her. It gave her a defensible position, and
he’d sure as hell attacked her. The rotten feeling grew, eating away at him
worse and worse.

“I never told you about what your dad said because we were
young, I wanted to prove him wrong and I didn’t want to drive a wedge between
you two. I was determined to make him like me, and though we’ve never gotten
close, I think I’ve changed his mind.” Though now he seriously doubted if the
man would ever speak to him again. All that work for nothing.

“I would have gone to bat for you.” Her voice was cold,
bitterly so.

“I knew that, and I knew it would change your relationship
with your dad and I didn’t want that.”

“So you were just being selfless?”

He shrugged. At the time he’d felt like a martyr, but now he
didn’t think so.

Her hands fluttered as if she were trying to catch
butterflies. “What about the—the—”

“Divorce?”

“Yeah.”

Cole sighed and cradled his forehead in his hands. How did
he even begin to explain it to her? Tanya was everything that was good,
promising and happy in his world. There was nothing she couldn’t do.

“Sometimes I think about where our lives would be if we
hadn’t gotten married. I’d probably be in a smaller city, closer to my family.
I’d have never made it to Metro City. It’s too big sometimes. But you, I wonder
how much more you could do if you weren’t tied to me. If you could have stayed
in Burma for that two-year stint they wanted you for, or what opportunities
you’ve missed out on growing your business because you chose to stay home with
me. Then I think, what happens when Tanya wakes up and realizes how much better
off she’d be without me?” He shrugged and stared at the geometric pattern of
the rug. “Divorce was a logical next step from there.”

“You don’t want a divorce?” The light coming in through the
floor-to-ceiling windows bathed her in a golden glow. A real angelic light.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

She held up her hand. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight.
My dad tells you that you don’t deserve me and somehow it warps into this idea
that I would be better off without you and you should fall on the sword of
mercy and divorce me? Do I have this right?”

Cole winced and rubbed his face again. “When you put it like
that, it sounds pretty stupid.”

Tanya jumped to her feet and began pacing. “Yeah, it is
stupid. This is stuff we should have talked about, Cole. I’m your wife. We
should be in this together, not working it out on our own. These are our
problems. Not yours. Ours.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Good. I hope you’re real fucking sorry.”

“I am.”

“I just can’t deal with you right now. I need some space.”

Tanya retreated to the office and slammed the door so hard
he felt it in the very fiber of his being.

* * * * *

Tanya dragged into The Warehouse ten minutes past when she
should have reported for setup duty. She needed another whole week to get back
in the mindset for today’s game, but derby waited for no one.

“Hey, where you been?” Spanish Rose, a heavily tattooed
Latina, strode up to Tanya, clipboard in hand and attitude firmly in place. She
was head of the set-up committee for the year and was incredibly serious about
her role.

Tanya groaned. Spanish Rose was their best jammer and a
complete bitch. She was not the person Tanya wanted to deal with first thing.

“Sorry, got here as soon as I could.” She’d considered not
coming at all, but she’d be damned before Cole’s admission from yesterday ruined
everything else.

“Get your stuff in the locker room and start helping to lay
the track.” Spanish Rose pivoted and headed for another group of girls who’d
just arrived.

Tanya nodded at a few of her closer derby friends but
otherwise kept her head down as she made her way to the locker room.

Last night had been brutal. Cole had been this large silent
elephant in the next room, just around the corner. He’d stayed as close as
possible without actually crowding her. She understood now that the divorce
thoughts were from the past, not their present, but it still hurt. He was her
other half, and he’d considered leaving her.

The trust she’d never doubted was bruised. She didn’t know
what their next step was. Maybe counseling or a trip away where they focused on
them, but they would survive. She wasn’t ready to give up yet, and neither was
Cole. His quiet presence and repeated words of comfort were proof enough. But
that was for tomorrow. Today their lives went on. Cole should be off work soon,
she’d play tonight’s bout, and tomorrow maybe they’d figure everything out.

Tanya stowed her gear in what served as the locker room. The
Warehouse was exactly what its name suggested. It was a large metal and
cinderblock building that had once housed merchandise for some long-gone
company. Now it was an event space. Roller derby games, concerts, raves, art
galleries, holiday balls. For such an industrial structure, it was versatile.

“What’s up with that face?” Mallory fell in beside her, both
heading to where the dedicated team of derby husbands were unrolling what would
be the track boundaries.

Tanya shrugged and warred with herself a moment before
answering, “Cole and I had a fight yesterday.”

Mallory’s lips compressed into a tight line and she nodded.
“You’ll feel better once you knock these Sin City bitches on their asses.”

Tanya laughed, because it was true.

“Come on, let’s get this set up before Rose crawls up our
ass.”

The track was a flat oval set up on top of the concrete
floor. The boundaries were marked with normal tube lighting taped to the floor.
It had to be measured out and the turns properly formed or else the bout could
be thrown out. With all the husbands and derby girls pitching in, the setup
went fairly quickly.

Other girls in the Metro City Derby Dames league who would
not be playing tonight because they weren’t on the travel team had the esteemed
honor of unloading and moving the bleachers into place, setting up folding
chairs and doing the real backbreaking labor. Since Tanya was part of the
travel team, her responsibilities ended when the track was set up, which was
the first thing they did. Because The Warehouse had only one main entrance both
for venue security and managing crowd entry, they had to stagger their set-up
time to bring in all the pieces.

Tanya dug her phone out of her pocket. It was past time for
Cole to be off work.

One missed call and a voicemail.

She dialed voicemail and listened to the message.

“Hey, babe, I’m headed your way. See you soon.”

The tightness in her chest eased. He was coming. If she were
honest with herself, she’d feared he would skip out. She sighed and started to
pocket the phone, but it began to vibrate. The picture of Cole grinning and
saluting the camera with a fruity drink stared back at her.

Her stomach dropped.

“Hey,” she got out, though her throat felt constricted.

“I got called in.” His voice was grim.

“Of course you did,” she said before she could stop herself.

“I’m sorry. Have a good game tonight, okay?”

“It’s called a bout, not a game.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I hope the bout goes well. Hit some girls,
okay?”

“Yeah, whatever. Stay safe. Bye.”

Tanya ended the call and stalked outside. She didn’t need
this. Of course he had a SWAT call. Of course something came up. It always did.

Her phone rang again. She answered without looking at the
screen.

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up on me,” Cole demanded.

“What else were you going to say?”

“Tanya, I’ve told you I’m sorry. If I could take back
everything I said yesterday and just never say it, I would.”

“I know.” And yet she still felt rotten.

“Babe, I’m not asking for things to be perfect between us,
but don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I want to go get ready. You have
shit to do or whatever. Go hunt down the bad guys and I’ll see you at home.”

“Tanya, I love you.”

Those little words stopped her in her tracks, the skyline of
Metro City and all the Olympic finery filling her view. Cole was out there
somewhere, keeping all that safe. And he still loved her. She sucked in a deep
breath and shut her eyes.

“I love you too. We’ll talk later. I’m tired of being
angry.”

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Okay, let’s not fight.”

“I like this plan. Got to go. Promise I’ll be safe.”

The line went dead and, though she didn’t like Cole not
being at the bout tonight, she felt better.

And ready to kick some ass.

Cole parked his SUV in a line of other police vehicles along
the curb of a trailer park located in the southern half of Metro City. There
were a few of these still left in poorer areas of town, though most had been
bought up and parceled out into housing developments over time.

There were no children playing in the street. No cars coming
or going inside the park or from the surrounding streets. No ice-cream trucks
making the rounds, even though middle of the afternoon was prime time for their
business. There weren’t even dogs barking.

It was eerily quiet.

He knew from listening to the radio the park had been
evacuated. He’d passed lines of residents streaming out as he made it through
the police barricade rerouting traffic. There were still officers going door to
door ensuring everyone was out of the potentially dangerous area.

He grabbed the essential gear from his backseat and headed
to where the staging area was set up on the opposite side of the park. There
wasn’t much cover to be had, which accounted for the command center being so
far away. They’d rely on helicopters to give them an eye in the sky. Trailer
houses were flimsy, and if a bomb went off here it would do maximum damage,
something they all wanted to prevent.

It was obvious which house was the one with the potential
suspects in it. The trailer sat on a back corner lot, alone like a kid
relegated to his own table at lunch. Several spaces were cleared on either
side, the ground overgrown with weeds and clogged with trash. The house sat
right up against the chain link fence that circled the park on two sides. On
the other side of the fence, brush, trees and trash lined the perimeter clear
down to what Cole could only guess was a creek or storm drain.

It was a tactical problem.

They would have only two clear paths by which to approach
the location.

The staging area wasn’t anything more than a few brass
vehicles parked in a rough circle at the moment. He spotted his captain amidst
the group and headed for him.

O’Neil must have felt Cole’s gaze on him because he glanced
up. “Sergeant Westling, we’ve established a perimeter around two sides of the
house. We’re getting two teams together to cut through that fence on both
sides. I want you to get your team together and be on the ready.”

Cole nodded and came to a stop at the hood of a Charger with
papers and clipboards spread out over it. “Anyone checked in yet?”

“Griffith.” O’Neil glanced at someone at his shoulder and
the two men descended into an intense conversation.

Cole glanced at the paper the men were examining, which
appeared to be a topographical map of the area. It was a great place to be
hemmed in because of its defensible position, bad place to try to dig someone
out.

He headed for the perimeter boundary, which was where Aaron
Griffith would be. It was easy to spot their SWAT gear amidst the officers
moving purposefully around the patrol cars set up as barricades and for cover.

The radio on his shoulder chattered information, but Cole
was still missing some foundational pieces of info. He approached his
teammates’ position behind another SUV. The two men glanced at him, nodding,
their faces grim.

“What do we know?” he asked.

Aaron shifted so he could see both Cole and the trailer
house. “Narcotics picked up our drug dealer turned landlord from last weekend’s
bust. They put pressure on the fucktard and he started talking. Said he put
those three guys up in a trailer house he usually sells cheese and prescription
medication out of.” Cheese was the latest concoction made from over-the-counter
cold medicines and the cheapest form of black tar heroin. It was a gateway
product that led to worse. In this instance, that worse was bombs.

“Have we established contact?” Cole took the down moments to
adjust his bulletproof vest and settle the gear attached to it into a more
comfortable position.

“Not yet. Seen some movement in the windows, but no one’s
gone in yet,” Aaron replied.

Cole stared at the house with its dirty windows, many
blacked out with tinfoil. “Well, O’Neil said they’re sending some guys around
to cut through the fence to get around behind it.”

“Yeah, that’s Rylon and York’s teams. All their guys are
here, we’re just late to the party. Bomb trailer’s on the way.”

Cole nodded. It was as good as it was going to get under the
circumstances.

The most logical plan was to be establish a 360-degree
perimeter, send in a bomb unit to get some eyes in there, maybe break out some
of the windows with less lethal rounds and figure out how dangerous the
landscape was inside. Still, he didn’t see this as being an easy or short
siege.

They were here for the long haul.

* * * * *

Tanya stepped up to the starting line. She tried not to peer
into the sheer mass of people. Last she’d heard there were only a hundred
tickets left and a line out to the street. A sell-out for sure.

She rarely had performance anxiety when it came to bouts,
but this crowd was feeding into her nervousness.

Hell, there were already two beeramids made out of hundreds
of beer cans in the turns. The crowd was rowdy and toasted, which was typical
of their bouts. It also made it easy to tell the regulars from the Olympic
spectators, simply because derby fans were not the most refined slice of
humanity.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s bout between the
Sin City Rollers and—your—Metro—City—Derby—Dames!” the announcer, Go-Go-Randy,
complete with racing jumpsuit, bellowed into the mic.

The crowd went wild, stomping their feet and rattling the
signature Metro City Damagers, which were little more than coffee cans with
rocks in them and the team logo taped to the exterior.

“We’re going to explain the way modern roller derby is
played, and how you’ll see it done tonight. Each team gets five players on the
track.” Go-Go-Randy jogged over to where Tanya and the other blockers were
gathered behind a taped line on the track. “These eight ladies are the pack. At
the head of the pack, each team has a pivot that wears a striped helmet cover.”
Tanya and the Sin City pivot straightened and waved. “Now, back here…” Go-Go-Randy
jogged back twenty feet to two players separated from the rest. “These ladies
are your jammers. They’re your point scorers.”

Go-Go-Randy backed up to the center of the track. Referees
and game officials with clipboards and a big dry erase board moved around him
with practiced ease.

“This bout will be an hour long, played in two half-hour
periods. A play, or as we call them, jams, take place in two-minute increments.
A jam starts when the referee blows the whistle one time.” Go-Go-Randy gestured
to a tall, lanky man on skates wearing a referee shirt.

The referee blew his whistle one time and Tanya started
skating slowly along with the other girls in the pack. This wasn’t the time to
be aggressive, but she did eye her fellow pivot.

“When the last girl in the pack has passed the starting
line, our head referee, Dick Woods, will give his whistle two good tweets.” The
referee complied, blasting two short notes. “The jammers will take off. Their
goal is to get through the pack. The first girl though the pack without a
penalty will be,” he paused for effect, sucking in a deep breath,
“your—lead—jammer!”

The crowd whooped and hollered. Tanya glanced over her
shoulder and caught sight of the two jammers rounding the first turn, closing
in on the back of the pack. In turn, the girls in the pack began to jostle one
another a little. They were all ready to seriously play.

“Each team wants to get their jammer through the pack first,
so they’ll do everything in their power to help her through, even body checking
their opponents!”

It was automatic—as soon as the jammers reached the pack
they began shifting into blocking positions. Two of Tanya’s teammates held the
back of the pack and let their jammer, Pele, pass into the pack first. Goldie
Fuckers offered Pele her arm. Pele took it and Goldie propelled the jammer
forward and straight for Tanya. A Sin City blocker came out of nowhere,
sideswiping Pele, but the Dame jammer shook it off.

Tanya reached back, grabbed Pele and whipped her around the
front of the pack.

“The jammer scores points on each pass she makes through the
pack. For each opposing player she passes, she gets one point. Now, if she
passes them illegally, she gets no points.”

Pele powered forward, leaving the pack behind in a burst of
speed.

“Your lead jammer is the Hawaiian fire goddess herself,
Pele!”

Pele straightened from her crouched-over skating position
and slapped her hips with her fists, thrusting her pelvis forward. Tanya and
the rest of the pack put on the brakes and began coasting.

“The lead jammer can call a jam off if she’s lead jammer by
putting her hands on her hips, as Pele has demonstrated. Now, penalties! A
skater can incur penalties for things like pushing, tripping or elbowing their
opponent. Four minor penalties or one major mean a minute in the sin bin.” The
crowd hissed appropriately as their Mistress of Penalties slapped the metal
folding chairs with a flogger. “Okay, I can talk you to death about the rules
of derby, but I always say you learn by doing. So, let’s get these girls on the
track and play some derby!”

Tanya and the rest of the girls reassembled at the starting
line. She bit down on her mouth guard and took the inner track position. Pele
and their coach had agreed that a fast pace out of the gate would benefit them.

Tanya tipped forward so she stood on her front two wheels
and toe stops. The group assembled on the line, bodies tense, ready to spring
forward.

“Count down with me, everyone,” Go-Go-Randy bellowed. “Five,
four, three, two, one!”

Dick Woods blasted the whistle. Tanya shot forward, leaving
the Sin City pivot in the dust.

“On your right,” Goldie called.

“Faster,” Tanya called over her shoulder.

The Sin City pack was pounding around the turn, fighting to
keep up. There were rules about the pack having to stay together, which forced
their opponents to play at their speed. For now.

Two blasts, the crowd roaring and squealing skates meant the
jammers were on their way.

“Incoming,” Goldie yelled.

The Sin City team was yelling back and forth as well,
struggling to work their way back into the pack.

“Sin jammer, Sin jammer,” Goldie practically screamed.

“Knock her on her ass,” Tanya called to her teammates.

The Sin City jammer blazed through her teammates, getting a
double push from two girls at once. The rear two Derby Dame blockers tried to
jostle her, but misjudged her speed and bounced off, one on either side right
after each other.

Tanya crossed one leg over the other heading into the turn.
The beeramid was right in line.

“Hit her,” Tanya cried.

Goldie quickstepped as the jammer tried to pass and executed
a great hip-check, but the other woman was too solid on her skates.

Tanya was not about to let the other team’s bitch get the
first lead jammer.

She roared and let her momentum push her to the outside of
the turn as the jammer tried to pass her. Tanya threw on a burst of speed and
laid everything she had into the jammer, hitting her from hip to shoulder. They
hit the outside boundary, Tanya’s skate tripped over the rope lights and she
pitched forward. The jammer tucked and rolled, hitting the beeramid square in
the middle and sending cans flying.

Tanya let her momentum roll her to her stomach, got her
skates under her and sprang to her feet. She was off and running on her
toe-stops before she could draw the next breath.

“Pele is your—lead—jammer!”

One whistle blared close to Tanya and she glanced around. A
referee scowled at her, pointing to the penalty box. Somehow she’d managed to
incur a major penalty in the first jam. Just her luck. She rolled her eyes and
sped around the outside of the track as fast as possible to get her ass into
the seat.

It was going to be a long two minutes in the sin bin.

* * * * *

Cole’s uniform stuck to his back, sweat trickling down his
spine. Debris and the remains of what had been the trailer house in an almost
abandoned lot fluttered to the ground. His ears rang from the explosion seconds
ago. Officers were jumping to action, pulling stunned individuals back farther
and providing cover for the firefighters who were at the ready across the park.

“Suspects are fleeing on foot,” someone nearby yelled, a cry
many were echoing.

He shook his head and peered through the flames at three
figures climbing the opposite bank of the creek behind the house.

Immediately officers began sprinting after the men, but the
explosion had given the suspects a considerable lead.

Cole hit the chain link fence and skidded to a stop. The
suspects were already hidden from sight by a thick brush line and a wooden
privacy fence.

“Sergeant Westling, get your team loaded and pursue,” the
Captain yelled.

Cole’s instinct was to follow the suspects until they ran
them to the ground on foot, but he couldn’t ignore a direct order.

“Yes sir. Alpha Team, to me.” He jogged back to his SUV, the
other members of his team falling in behind him.

This was the situation nightmares were made of.

They loaded into Cole’s SWAT SUV in near silence. Their
attention focused on the radio and the officers calling out positions.

“Suspects are in a brown Buick southbound on Fuego Street,”
one voice said louder than the others.

Cole accelerated as fast as he dared, lights and sirens
blaring, passing three incoming fire trucks on his way. He gripped the wheel
and leaned forward. Contrary to TV, it wasn’t every day an officer was given
leave to pursue. It was the ultimate rush.