His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

“We have a strategy meeting planned today, then I’ll be in the office alone this afternoon. I’ll get away.” Free promised him.

Hart

“Hey, where’d you disappear to?” Carlos asked as soon as Hart came through the glass doors of his unit.

“I was in narcotics,” he said, stopping at his assistant’s desk for his messages.

He handed him three message slips. Hart kept walking toward his personal office. His department wasn’t designed like God and Day’s. They had an open floor plan as well, but also three conference rooms. The center of their office—nicknamed the hub—was where they congregated and brainstormed. They had a kitchen toward the back, next to the recreation area. But they rarely had time to lounge.

“Your coffee is probably frozen.” Carlos got up. “I’ll reheat it.”

“Where is everyone?” He asked, noting how quiet it was.

“Fox sent them over to headquarters to get started on the simulator. He’s in his office waiting on you. At least I think he is.” Carlos waved his hand in the air. “You know I can’t keep up with him.”

“Thanks.” Hart’s mind was still on Free, but he had to get focused. He had a ton of paperwork to do regarding their budget this month, and training schedules to coordinate and complete before the end of the day. The team had to have their exercise itinerary. All they seemed to do was practice then practice some more, but SWAT was all about endless training and preparedness.

His office was nice. It had to be. It was his home away from home. There’d been countless nights when he’d catnapped on his couch before getting right back to work. He had a sitting area away from his massive desk. His office furniture was all rustic-style distressed wood. Since he was known to have meetings in there with his senior staff, he also had a six-person conference table in front of a dry erase board, and a sixty-inch television mounted on the wall. He had his own washroom and small closet for his spare uniforms. The only other door in the room was to Fox’s office, directly beside his.

When they’d designed the new SWAT department within the Fourth Precinct, Dinah, his sergeant, had opted for an open-style cubicle. She said she didn’t like closed spaces, nor did she want to be isolated from the team. But, Fox had insisted he and Hart’s office be joined by a separate side door. His lieutenant liked to be able to move slyly, hence his name. He'd worked for the Defense Intelligence Agency after college, until he resigned nine years later. No one knew the real reason he’d left the intelligence community, except Hart. Fox didn’t trust easily. Earning his respect was an honor he cherished.

Hart sat at his desk and released a deep breath, glad that he had a competent staff. He needed to get over to headquarters and work with his team, but first he had to clear the stupid grin off his face. No one would take him seriously at the range if he was beaming like a loon.

“Back down in God’s office again, huh?” Fox said, quietly coming through his side-door. He never knocked. If either one of them didn’t want to be disturbed, the other one knew it and didn’t overstep unless absolutely necessary. Hart turned toward his other best friend.

“Why aren’t you at headquarters?” Fox sat in one of the chairs in front of Hart’s desk and reclined as far as he could, spreading his legs wide.

“Why aren’t you?” Hart threw back.

“Because I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’re paranoid.” Hart smiled. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“I am paranoid. But not about this. On this, I’m right. You’re up to something.” Fox leaned forward, his light gray eyes bright with mischief. “You’re grinning like Mr. Magoo. Now, either you can tell me what’s up, or you can make me dig…and you know it won’t take me long to figure it out.”

Hart groaned. Fox was right. If he started digging, he’d know that he wasn’t going downstairs all the time to coordinate anything with the narcotics team officers, instead he was going for personal reasons. Hart dropped his head and ran both hands over his head in frustration. Was he ready to tell Fox? His friend knew all about his ex-wife, but he didn’t know Hart’s truest desire. He’d let work consume him to keep his mind off what he couldn’t have—or what he didn’t have.

There was nothing stopping him from dating a man, except that none had shown interest in him. Only a couple of women had been bold enough to ask him out on a date after his divorce, but neither of those had led to anything. Fox had seen him date females, and most likely assumed he wasn’t into men.

“Here’s your coffee.” Carlos set down a steaming mug on the cup warmer he’d given him last year for Christmas. He glanced over at Fox but didn’t speak to him, instead he straightened a few files, grabbed the ignored messages off his desk and two memos from his outbox. “I’ll return these calls for you. I called Dinah and told her you were just wrapping up the practice schedules and you’d be over in twenty; to restart the simulator then.”