Free Galilee Rising by Jennifer Harlow

stretching in my chair. His eyes dart to my pressed out chest then quickly spins to face the monitor. I'll let this objectification slide. "So. We took down a major crime boss. Let's not let the moss grow. What next, handsome?"
    "I'm, um…" he shakes his head to clear it. My boobs are that great. "A large quantity of C-4, Semtex, and gelatin were stolen from a military base fifty miles from the city last night. What's worrisome is this is the second such theft in as many days. Both times they drove onto the base using fake IDs, incapacitated the soldiers on watch with one death, then drove off with the ordinance. The sketches the surviving soldiers provided of the culprits are generic at best. No one was really paying attention."
    "Our tax dollars at work," I say. "How much did these guys get?"
    "Enough to level several buildings. Best case scenario, they package it off and sell it black market."
    "Worst, this wasn't for the money and whoever did it has a plan," I finish. "A fanatic with a grudge. Yikes."
    "Yes. Yikes. The problem is with no fingerprints, unobservant witnesses, and no prior crimes with the same M.O. I am at a loss how to proceed. Tempest examined the scene but found nothing of use. It is a quandary."
    I raise an eyebrow. "Or you've been holed up down here in the dark for hours, and your brain is fried. Scoot over." I bridge the gap between us, and he moves so the arms of our chairs touch. I start accessing the databases as he watches, still tense beside me. Don't know if I should take that personally. "It's going to be a pain in the ass to go through, but I am going to get you a list of all the black market explosives sellers and buyers within seventy-five miles." I print the page before going to the next. "I am also printing you a list of bomb makers and criminals known to have used ordinance in their crimes." I press a few buttons and out pops the list. "Done. Now, just because I like you and am super nice, I am going to get us some lunch and help you locate these bastards. Sound good, your Lordship?" I stand up. "You take a break. Go outside, fly around, do yoga on the beach, just get out of here for fifteen minutes. You need it."
    Because I'm feeling particularly generous today, and we're going to be down here for hours, I assemble a feast. Salad, turkey on wheat sandwiches, V-8 juice, and chips which I will do my damnedest to resist. He's still gone when I return. I do love a man who listens to reason. I switch on the radio to the classic rock station, set up the remote laptop so we can both access the computer at the same time, sit down with my sandwich, and start culling the lists. My partner in anti-crime returns a few minutes later to resume his post. I learned in the week we were compiling the Casanov case he doesn't like to talk while working, so we do our separate assignments side-by-side. He's not the most sociable of people. Probably why we get along so well.
    As we reach hour two, I have the locations on seventy-five percent of my scumbags and strained eyes from staring at this monitor. At least the tedium is broken by my new favorite game: count the times the hero glances at me when he thinks I'm not looking. Fifteen times in two hours. I don't know whether to be flattered or creeped out. Wonder if he does the same thing with Liberty. In my limited experience observing them together, I've come to the conclusion they aren't a couple. There's no touching, no tenderness of voice, nothing to indicate they bump uglies. And if he has a girlfriend, she's very understanding considering he probably has a day-job then spends hours either here or on patrol. No, he doesn't have a girlfriend. It's been a long time since he has judging from his reaction to me. Poor guy. All work and no play. No way to live.
    It's my turn to glance. He rubs his neck and grimaces in pain. "Super-healing on the fritz?" I ask.
    "What? Oh, no. I've just been hunched over for so long it finally caught up with me. I'm fine."
    We