She grabbed her purse, but didn’t bother with the monster camera Zak had tossed in the backseat. She still had her trusty little camera tucked in her back pocket. And if Dixon wanted to take it from her, she had her iPhone.
She took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders, and put on her game face. Sergeant Gage Dixon was no idiot. He knew she was snooping for a story. She had to remember not to underestimate the man simply because he was attractive as all get-out.
Mac headed for the gate to ring the bell, only to stop when she realized Dixon was already waiting for her. He was standing there in his navy blue uniform, which consisted of military-style pants bloused above combat boots and a skintight T-shirt that showed off every muscle he had—and there were a lot of them.
She dragged her mind out of the fantasy it was headed for and gave him a smile. “Sergeant Dixon, you didn’t have to meet me at the gate. You could have just buzzed me in.”
He opened the door, returning her smile with a devastating grin of his own. “What kind of host would I be if I did that? And if we’re going to be spending so much time together, maybe you can stop with the formalities and just call me Gage.”
Maybe this was going to be easier than she’d thought. “Okay, but only if you call me Mac—it’s what all my friends call me.”
“I like the idea of being friends, but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll call you Mackenzie.” He grimaced. “Mac makes me think of a big, overweight trucker, and you definitely don’t fit that image.”
Mac couldn’t help but laugh. He was the first guy who ever told her he wouldn’t call her by her nickname. Most guys would call a woman Hannibal Lecter if they thought it’d get them in her panties. Perhaps it was an indication that working Dixon—Gage—was going to take a different approach. Not to mention a more subtle touch, she thought as he led her across the parking lot and into what he called the training-slash-maintenance building. It had a break room, a classroom, a small gym with basketball hoops, and a few rooms for storing tactical gear and other equipment.
“What’s in there?” she asked as they walked past a room that had the door closed.
If the door was closed, it was a place she wanted to see. And if he resisted, it meant she really wanted to see it.
Gage frowned. “Just another gym.” He opened the door to reveal a weight room. “We had a little accident and some of the mirrors got broken, but we should have it back in shape in a day or so.”
So much for a room full of those deep, dark secrets she’d been hoping for. “I guess you guys have to work out a lot, huh? To get all those big muscles, I mean.”
She figured a guy his size would appreciate a little love thrown his way when it came to maintaining his physique, but he only chuckled.
“We work out, but not as much as you think. We stay in shape mostly from the training we do. You know—a lot of running, climbing obstacles, carrying heavy gear and each other.” When she lifted a brow, he added, “To simulate evacuating a wounded man. The weight room is here more to give the guys something to keep their minds occupied between incidents, as well as help deal with stress afterward.”
She wasn’t sure how much she bought that. Somebody his size needed to work out—a lot. But she certainly enjoyed the spoils of his efforts. Gage had a nice body. She could only imagine how much better he’d look with his clothes off.
She immediately berated herself for forgetting why she was there. Focus on the dang story.
They ran into four members of his team as he took her on a tour of the last storage room in the building. The men were repacking some kind of gear she didn’t recognize, but stopped when she and Gage walked in.
“Mackenzie, this is Officer Hale Delaney, one of our specialists in less lethal tactics and martial arts. Officer Eric Becker, computers and surveillance. Officer Landry Cooper, explosives and demolitions expert. And Officer Remy Boudreaux, shotgun breech specialist and assistant armorer.” Gage glanced at her. “Meet Mackenzie Stone from the Dallas Daily Star.”
Mac already knew their names and their specialties from the personnel file she’d made. She smiled and shook each of their hands. And like the other SWAT cops who’d rescued the hostages that morning, they were all big, tall, and muscular. Not to mention easy on the eyes.
As Gage led her over to the next building, he gave her a tutorial on how the SWAT team was organized.
“We have a lot of flexibility when it comes to how we operate, based on the mission,” he said. “We have two separate squads within the unit—Mike runs one and Xander leads the other. They can operate independently or together as part of the full team. If there’s more than one incident at a time, or if a particular mission calls for it, we break the team up into thirds, with me leading the third squad.”