Free Tactical Advantage by Julie Miller Page A

being up all night, or maybe it was the unexpected glimpses of chivalry beneath Nick’s thorny exterior that made her surrender to the cryptic promise she heard in his voice. Feeling too physically drained and off her mental game to put up any kind of fight, she simply nodded and turned to slide her arms into the lined wool sleeves.
    If his hands lingered a moment to add another layer of warmth against her shoulders, Annie couldn’t be sure. Nick pulled away as quickly as she’d imagined the tender gesture, muttering a choice word under his breath as he turned toward the sound of raised voices coming from the waiting room. Annie followed him out into the hallway where the commotion grew louder with every step.
    He paused for a moment before turning the corner to the E.R.’s check-in desk. “Ah, nuts. Brace yourself.”
    “For what?” What she’d thought was an argument she could now tell were several excited people, all talking at once. “What is that?”
    “My family.” Nick squared his shoulders and moved forward again. “Mom. Dad.”
    “Nicky!” The group of people clamoring at the receptionist’s counter turned as one and swarmed him. “Are you all right?”
    The dark-haired man who answered to Dad reached him first. “George got a call that you were going to the E.R. Are you hurt?”
    Butted aside by the flow of people surrounding Nick, Annie retreated to the wall to watch nearly a dozen concerned visitors hug him, squeeze his shoulder or shake his hand.
    “I’m fine.” Nick leaned in to kiss his mother’s cheek. “In one piece. I promise.”
    His mother clutched her hand to her heart. “Thank God it was a false alarm.”
    “Then why are we at the hospital?” That was the silver-haired man in the dark green stadium coat.
    “I had to bring a coworker in,” Nick explained.
    A petite woman with striking white hair went pale. “Not Spencer.”
    Nick chuckled. “Don’t worry, Grandma, he’s fine, too.”
    “Then who got hurt?”
    “Annie...” Nick nudged aside a younger version of
himself—a brother, no doubt—and spotted her shrinking away from the chaos. “Annie?”
    “Oh, my goodness, look at her.” At Grandma’s pitying gasp, the swarm shifted course and moved toward Annie.
    “I’m Connie.”
    The white-haired woman was quickly joined by Nick’s mother. “Poor dear. I’m Trudy Fensom. Noah, get her a chair.”
    One of the brothers darted away. “I’m on it.”
    “What a bummer to spend your New Year’s Eve in the hospital,” a sister added, extending a hand to introduce herself. “I’m Natalie.”
    The family resemblance was strong in the Fensom family—dark hair, stocky shapes—the subtleties of maintaining a polite distance completely forgotten in their sudden concern for her. “I’m fine. Really.”
    “Come on, guys.” Nick shouldered his way through to Annie’s side. “Give her some room to breathe.”
    There were lots of introductions, strong handshakes and friendly greetings. She gave a quick rundown on what a criminologist did. And no, she’d never had stitches before. Did the bruise forming beneath the edge of the bandage really hurt? And then they were regaling her with past injuries, comparing if one sister’s broken arm from a skiing mishap had hurt more than one brother’s broken leg from a football collision.
    In the span of a mere few minutes, there were conversations over conversations, and Annie lost track of more than one. She might have gotten the two brothers switched around. The names all started with N, right? Well, no, the mom’s name was Trudy. The silver-haired man was Nicolas, Senior—but Nick’s dad was Clay and Nick was the Junior. Or maybe Clay was a middle name and, oh heck.
    “We haven’t met.” Annie startled at the hand on her elbow. She turned to see a distinguished-looking man in a cashmere sweater whose sharp gray eyes seemed faintly familiar. He pulled her a few steps away from the chaos and smiled. “I’m George