Kali and Grayson – Paige Tyler – New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author

Kali & grayson

the "it" girls series, book 1

Fortune and fame come with a price… But is it more than she’s willing to pay?

Kali Lang’s life couldn’t get much better. Her internet company Glossed & Glammed is practically an overnight sensation, and she is the “It” girl of makeup and fashion tutorials, with over two million followers. The flip side of that? She can’t go out in public without being mobbed by fans, and there’s no place except home where she can just be plain Kali. And that makes it hard to meet guys. When was the last time she had a date?

When a chance meeting literally has her falling into the arms of Grayson Hill—the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen—Kali realizes that while she might ‘have it all’, she’s still missing something very important in her life: Love. But what man wants to be called arm-candy and put up with the constant social media scrutiny that is Kali’s life? Unfortunately, not Grayson, and she can’t blame him. Even though they are quickly falling for each other, he’s not sure living life under the media’s microscope is something he can do.

Can a straight-laced lawyer and a trendy fashion influencer find a way to compromise, or is their love an epic fail?

They’re tight.
They’re on target.
They’re as alpha as men can get.
The Dallas SWAT team is hiding one helluva secret…they’re a pack of wolf shifters.
The team of elite sharpshooters is ultra-secretive, and also the darlings of Dallas. This doesn’t sit well with investigative journalist Mackenzie Stone. They must be hiding something, and she’s determined to find out what.
Keeping Mac at a distance proves impossible for SWAT team commander Gage Dixon. She’s smart, sexy, and makes him feel alive for the first time in years. But she’s getting dangerously close to the truth—and perilously close to his heart...

More from this series


My heart beats faster in my chest as Grayson gazes inquisitively at me. He continues sipping his coffee, which looks to be an Americano.

He’s waiting for me to open up and tell him about myself, and I love the fact that he’s looking at me like I’m merely some regular girl. I mean, in lots of ways, I am a regular girl. I love to have fun. I love to flip through magazines. I love to stay up late watching Netflix and chowing down on popcorn and wine. I love hanging out with my besties. I just so happen to be a regular girl with millions of people hanging on my every word. I don’t want Grayson to feel like he’s competing with that attention any more than I want him to feel like there’s nothing I crave more than that attention.

Right now, he’s simply a guy and I’m simply a girl and we’re trying to have a simple conversation. I want to keep it that way.

“I do makeup for a living,” I answer as nonchalantly as possible.

His brows lift, but then he nods. “That’s awesome. It makes sense, actually. You look beautiful.”

This time, my face really does burn bright red. Hopefully, it’s concealed by the dim lighting of the café and my flawlessly applied foundation.

“What about you?” I ask, eager to turn the conversation back on him.
He clears his throat, eyes shifting away briefly. “I’m a lawyer. I’m a junior associate at my firm.”

Wow. I did not expect that.

I choke on my latte and hardly manage to painfully swallow down a mouthful of hot, but deliciously smooth coffee. “That’s incredible! You’re so young, too. Making junior associate so fast must’ve been tough.”

“Really tough,” he murmurs quietly before clearing his throat. “Let’s just say I had a lot of motivation to work hard.”

Silence briefly falls over the table as we sip our drinks and gaze at one another. Surprisingly, it isn’t an uncomfortable silence. In fact, it’s kind of nice. When I’m with my girls, there isn’t a moment of quiet. Sutton or Liv or I are always going a mile a minute. There’s always something to do and something to say. This—whatever it is right here between Grayson and me—feels really nice.

Is this what it feels like to be normal? Right now, there’s no pressure to be perfect or flawless. I can simply be me.

“Tough things make us resilient,” I offer quietly.

Even though I desperately want to, I don’t press him for details about his career. I can see something simmering in his eyes, something he isn’t quite ready to talk about. I understand that completely. We all have our secrets, don’t we?

He lifts his chin and his eyes again meet mine. He nods and a slow, small smile curves his delicious looking lips.

Lips I suddenly want to kiss.

I hastily take another sip of coffee—which isn’t nearly as hot so I don’t burn my mouth—and then ask, “Where’d you study law, Grayson?”

I’ve got to keep this conversation going. One, if I don’t speak then he’s going to start asking questions about me, and I’m not exactly a very good liar. Actually, I’m a dreadful liar. Which means I’m only going to be able to play it coy for a limited time. And two, I really do want to know as much as I can about Grayson. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since our first meeting, and I want to know every detail possible before we go our separate ways again.

The idea bums me out more than I care to admit.

But he’s a lawyer and I’m a beauty influencer. We both have full schedules. Could it be that after this cup of coffee, we’re both going to walk right out the door in opposite directions and that will be that? The thought makes my heart twist in my chest, but I resolve to take this conversation one word at a time.

“Stanford Law,” he answers.

I wince. “Sounds expensive.”

Laughing softly, Grayson nods. “Definitely. Funding my tuition felt nearly impossible most of the time, but I managed somehow.”

“And now here you are, ready to take on the world one court case at a time.”

“Cheers to that.”

He gently presses his paper coffee cup against mine and we sip on our drinks again.

Outside, the clouds shift. Warm sunlight dances in through the café window, illuminating golden flecks in Grayson’s chestnut eyes and the strong profile of his handsome nose. Every time I blink, I swear he gets more and more good looking.

“What about you?” Grayson asks curiously. “Did you study makeup somewhere?”

“I studied art, actually, and eventually business, too. I wound up with a dual degree from USC two years ago. Believe me when I say I know how hard it is to fund education. I was lucky to land a scholarship.”

His eyes go a little wide. “That’s impressive.”

The raw sincerity of his tone is enough to catch me off guard. He doesn’t even know me, but he sounds so proud. It’s heartwarming and makes me think his soul just may be as gorgeous as the rest of him. I feel a twinge of guilt as he grins at me. I almost feel bad for being furtive about my real career because it’s obvious that Grayson is genuine to the core.

For just a little while longer, though, I want things to stay this easy.

“I haven’t sat down and talked like this with someone in a really long time,” he continues. “It’s really nice. I’m usually at the office or trying to wade through piles and piles of paperwork that the senior attorneys pass down. I know it’s worth it, though, if I’m going to prove that I’m every bit of a good lawyer as anyone else.”

I understand exactly what he means. Despite what I’ve already accomplished, sometimes, I still feel like I have to show people I’m actually really good at what I do. But I guess I’m not the only one who feels the weight of that on my shoulders.

“Tell me about it,” I say. “Sometimes it feels like the day’s work is never done.”

Grayson tilts his head to the side so he can give me yet another long, intrigued look. “So, what do you do for fun then? To relieve some stress after a long day, I mean. Do you have a man at home to keep you company?”

“Well,” I answer levelly, “there’s George.”

The hunky guy across the cozy café table stops mid-sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing in shock. “George?” he sputters, clearing his throat hard.

“George,” I repeat with an emphatic nod. Unable to help myself, I flash him a feisty grin. “He’s my Labrador mix puppy. I found him wandering the beach near our home a while back—I live with my two best friends, by the way, both girls, if you must know—and he’s been with me ever since.”

Grayson dissolves into husky, easy laughter. He shakes his head and rests his forearms on the table, leaning closer. Our drinks have been pushed aside now, abandoned in our conversation.

“A lab, huh? I always wanted a dog growing up,” Grayson murmurs wistfully, his dark eyes taking on a faraway look for a second. “My parents wouldn’t have it, though. They aren’t animal people, which says everything you need to know about them. Give George a treat for me when you get home?”

I assure him I will just as his phone rings sharply. He sighs and checks his cell before lifting his enchanting gaze back to me.

“That’s my cue. I’ve got to run. I guess it’s my turn to vanish.”

I wink and hold up a playfully lecturing finger. “The difference is that you’re saying goodbye. That doesn’t count as vanishing.”

Grinning, Grayson slides out of the booth and grabs his briefcase along with the book he stashed inside when we first sat down. Instead of walking away, he leans down so that he’s bent over me, his hand pressed against the back of the seat near my face. He’s so close that when he speaks, the heat of his breath drifts over my cheek, sending a wave of goosebumps down the side of my neck.

“What if I don’t say goodbye then?” he asks in a low, playful voice that’s almost a growl.

It’s only when my lungs start screaming for air that I realize I’m holding my breath. I don’t have it in me to even respond.

Fortunately, he doesn’t wait for me to answer. “La Chanterelle. Let me take you out, Kali. I didn’t get a real answer last time and it nearly drove me crazy. I have to try again.”

I shake my head, but it isn’t until his face falls that I finally remember how to speak.

“Not La Chanterelle,” I say softly. “How about Franco’s Burgers instead?”

He blinks hard, seeming as stunned that I’d finally agreed to go out with him as he was that I’d suggested a burger shack. “Franco’s? That tiny place on the beach?”

“They’re dog friendly. George and I can both go. I have to make sure he approves, after all.” I grin again, hoping my reason for avoiding a fancy restaurant sounds convincing.

At La Chanterelle, we would definitely be spotted by some G&G fans, and the veil of secrecy I have over my identity would be yanked away. At Franco’s, no one will notice us, especially at night. It’s a cozy little place that not many people know about, and it’ll be a perfect evening getaway for George, Grayson, and me. Besides, they have seriously good burgers.

He grins. “It’s a date.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card with his name and number. “Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at seven sharp.”

“It’s a date,” I repeat, hardly able to believe it.

Grayson walks backward toward the café door, his eyes locked on me the whole time.

When he finally disappears into the late day crowd of people outside, I don’t know whether to scream with excitement or trepidation.

I’ve finally got a date with the man of my dreams—but he has no idea who I really am.

Mac looked left, then right, then darted across the street. She couldn’t believe the SWAT team didn’t have anyone covering the back door of the building, but there wasn’t a cop in sight. Maybe they weren’t the hotshots everyone made them out to be.
She was just about to grab the handle when the door burst open. Mac barely had time to gasp before a man with a baseball cap on backward and a chest full of tattoos lifted a big rifle and aimed it at her. Her heart stopped. Instinct told her to run—or at least scream for help—but before she could do either, a black-clad SWAT officer in tactical gear dropped from above and knocked the thug to the ground with some kind of martial arts chop to the back of his tattooed neck.

She stared at the man lying unconscious on the ground, then at the cop before looking up to see a rappelling rope swaying back and forth against the side of the three-story building. How the heck had he dropped down fast enough to do that?

Mac opened her mouth to identify herself, but the SWAT officer closed the space between them in the blink of an eye and slapped a gloved hand over her mouth. She automatically reached up to grab his hand, but then froze as she locked eyes with his. He was wearing his ski mask, so all she could see were those eyes and a small amount of smooth brown skin around them. It had to be Mike Taylor or Jayden Brooks, the only two African American members of
the team. Since she hadn’t seen Brooks go in, it had to be Taylor. But for the life of her, she didn’t remember his eyes being a shocking shade of gold in his personnel file photo.

Movement caught her attention and Mac darted a quick look to her right to see two uniformed officers appear out of nowhere. When had her SWAT savior called them?

“Get them out of here,” the golden-eyed man said softly. “And keep her quiet.”

And just like that, one of the uniformed cops wrapped his arm around her waist from behind and picked her up, putting his hand over her mouth when Taylor pulled his away. She watched helplessly as the other cop grabbed the unconscious gunman and heaved him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, then ran toward the front of the building. When she looked back, the SWAT officer was nowhere to be seen. Where the heck had he gone? If all the guys in the tactical unit were this fast and powerful, she could imagine why Marvin thought they were on something. Nobody should be able to move that fast.

Her captor followed his partner, running down the alley with her like she was an unruly kid in a movie theater. She was so shocked she didn’t even struggle, and by the time she thought about it, they were at the SWAT operations vehicle. The minute he planted her firmly on her feet
and took his hand away from her mouth, she whirled around to chew him out for manhandling her and was amazed to discover he was the same uniformed cop Dixon had spoken to earlier. Had the SWAT commander seen the news van and told the cop to keep an eye on her? But
that was impossible. No one had eyesight that good.

The officer reached around her and opened the door of the operations vehicle, then motioned her in.

She’d about had enough with the caveman crap for today. “I’m not going in there.”

“In here, or in the backseat of a cruiser until this is done,” a deep voice said from inside. “Your call, Ms. Stone, but make it quickly.”

The cop raised an eyebrow, gesturing with one hand toward the open door, and the other across the street where his cruiser was parked. Well, she’d wanted to get an inside look at how the SWAT team operated.

Mac ignored the hand the cop put out to help her and tried not to stamp her foot as she stepped into the vehicle.

“Please close the door, Officer Danner,” said that same deep voice.

The door slammed shut, making her jump.

Mac pushed her sunglasses up on her head and surveyed the inside of the huge vehicle. The three men she’d seen earlier were eyeing her curiously. Gage Dixon, on the other hand, wasn’t paying attention to her at all. He stood with his back to her, his focus locked on the computer monitors attached to the far wall of the vehicle. All six screens were on, but the images on four them were moving and changing so fast it made her dizzy to look at them. It took her a moment to realize she was seeing live feeds from cameras mounted on his men’s helmets. Funny, she hadn’t seen one mounted on Taylor’s.

Who the hell was she kidding? She hadn’t noticed much of anything besides his big muscles and seriously mesmerizing eyes. He might have been naked for all she knew. Nah, she would have noticed that. She never missed a naked man.

But the four moving cameras meant Zak had been right—there were more than three SWAT officers in there. There were four. Not that four seemed like enough to her, either. She’d want like fifty or so to do the job.

The other two screens were stable, showing the inside of the building from two different angles. Mac took a step closer to get a better look and saw people lying face down on the floor. At first she thought they were dead, but then she picked up movement.

She surveyed the inside of the operations vehicle and was disappointed to see it was nothing more than an RV without all the good stuff that came with it. That wasn’t to say it was empty. There were racks for equipment, racks for weapons, and racks for radios, computers, and
cameras. There were even two whiteboards and a corkboard. A rather detailed drawing of the exterior of the building had been drawn on the whiteboard. Double red lines marked what looked like entry points.

Mac glanced at Dixon and the other men. They were all staring at the monitors. Figuring this was her chance to pick up some intel, she slid her hand into her back pocket for her camera.

“Please put your camera away, Ms. Stone,” Dixon said.

Mac froze. Damn. Everyone turned to look at her—well, everyone except Dixon. He was still glued to the monitors.

She pushed the camera back into her pocket. How the hell had he known what she was doing?

Dixon reached out and thumbed a switch on a box near the monitors. “We just got audio from the room where they’re holding the hostages.”

The sound of quiet sobs and pitiful moans—punctuated with a whole lot of shouting for the hostages to “Shut the eff up!”—filled the operations vehicle.

When the hostages were only silent, black-and-white video images, it had been possible for Mac to distance herself from the fact that the people lying on the floor—most of whom were women—were real, live human beings with mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, boyfriends and husbands, maybe even kids. And that they were scared to death. But now it was impossible to remain detached. Mac edged closer, holding her breath without even meaning to. One of the gunmen weaved in and out of the hostages, kicking them in an attempt to get them to move…somewhere. Most of the women just curled up in the fetal position and cried harder, which only seemed to infuriate the guy kicking them even more.

Cursing, he grabbed one of the women by the hair and dragged her out of the camera’s view. The woman’s terrified screams echoed through the speakers, chilling Mackenzie to the core. She’d seen a lot of violence in her line of work, but that didn’t mean she was used to it. She covered her mouth with her hands to keep from shouting at Dixon to tell his damn SWAT team to do something to help. She was a journalist. She was supposed to stay neutral in every situation and just observe. But it was damn hard when she knew that thug in there was moments away from killing that poor woman—or worse.

“Shit, this is bad,” the hostage negotiator said. “Those animals are on the edge and ready to go over. If your team is going in there, they’d better be quick.”

Dixon didn’t answer, but just spoke softly into the mic he was wearing. A moment later, he turned to the man from the power company. “Are your people ready?”

Hard Hat looked nervous, but he nodded. “When you say the word.”

Dixon turned his attention to the uniformed officer. “I know you were hoping we wouldn’t have to do this, but I need to get my people in there.”

The man didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded. “Do whatever you have to do. Just be careful. There’re a lot of hostages in there.”

Mackenzie wasn’t sure in a case like this who got to make the call as to when SWAT went in. But regardless, Dixon had smoothly put the lieutenant in the decision loop, making sure he didn’t step on any toes he didn’t have to. She’d used that trick herself a few times in the past
to keep herself on people’s good side, even when she could have trampled all over them. He was pretty smart for a big, muscle-bound trigger puller.

Dixon threw a glance at Hard Hat. “On my mark. In three…two…one. Now.”

At the SWAT commander’s signal, Hard Hat said a single word into his radio. All at once, every screen on the wall went black. For a moment, Mac thought the SWAT vehicle had lost power. Then she heard screaming over the speakers and realized they’d cut the power to the building.

Half a second later, gunfire erupted.

Mac couldn’t see a damn thing on the monitors except the occasional bright orange flashes that reflected off the walls.

But while she couldn’t see much, she could hear plenty. Women screaming, men cussing, the thud of heavy stuff hitting the floor. And interspersed between all of it, the growls of what sounded like a pissed-off SWAT team. Man, these guys really got fired up when they went in.
It sounded as if they were ready to tear the place apart. Maybe that was what Marvin had meant when he said they were on something. Right now, she couldn’t care less about her story. She only prayed the hostages made it out of this in one piece, although she couldn’t imagine how that would be possible. Not with all that gunfire.

But as fast as the shooting had started, it stopped.

Mac stared at the pitch-black screen, straining her eyes for something—anything—that would tell her if the hostages were still alive.

Gage pressed his index finger to the small bud in his right ear as if listening, then he turned to Hard Hat. “Flip on the power.”

The monitors trained on the interior of the building lit up, but not the ones connected to the SWAT officers’ helmet cams.

Mac sagged with relief. The women were huddled together in the center of the room, clearly traumatized but alive. Three men were on the floor nearby. They were still moving, but it didn’t look like they’d be going anywhere. One member of the SWAT team was covering the downed bank robbers, while two others moved among the women checking for injuries. Mac didn’t see the fourth member of the SWAT team. He must be dealing with the other thugs out of the camera view.

“Copy that,” Gage said into his mic, then glanced at the lieutenant. “Scene secure. Five suspects down, four WIA, one KIA. No hostages seriously wounded, but a few got trampled in the panic.”

Four bad guys wounded, one dead.

The lieutenant looked as relieved as Mac felt. “I’ll get in there with some uniforms and EMTs, start getting everyone out.”

He brushed past her at a run, slamming the door of the operations vehicle behind him. A few moments later, Hard Hat and the hostage negotiator left as well, leaving her alone with the SWAT team leader.

Curious despite herself, Mac moved closer to the man so she could see the monitors better—or at least that was the excuse she was going with.

She watched in silence as police officers and EMTs rushed into the room to take custody of the bank robbers and give first aid to the hostages. Dixon’s team fell back, disappearing out of the camera’s view.

Only then did Dixon take off his headset and turn to face her. “So, Ms. Stone. Did you get what you were looking for?”

This was the first time Mackenzie had seen Gage Dixon this close up. Saying he was gorgeous didn’t even begin to cover it. With his dark hair, chiseled jaw, and sensuous mouth, he was downright devastating. She was especially captivated by his eyes. They were the color of
dark honey. Or maybe fine whiskey. Either way, it was too easy to get lost in their depths.

She gave herself a mental shake and forced herself to look away, if just to catch her breath. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled at her in a way that made her wonder if he knew how off balance he had her. That bothered her—she was used to being the one who put other people off balance.

“It’s obvious you’ve been snooping around for a story,” he said.

“When your man grabbed me, you mean?” She shrugged. “That was a complete accident. I got turned around and ended up back there.”

He chuckled. “Right. Just like it’s a complete accident that your unmarked news van has been parked outside my SWAT compound for the last two days?”

She tried not to let her surprise show, but failed miserably. Mouth twitching, he turned and switched off the monitors.

How the hell had Dixon made her so easily? She and Zak weren’t that sloppy, were they? Dixon turned off the monitors, then picked up a cloth and wiped down the whiteboard.

“Okay, you caught me,” she said. “But I only resorted to that because the department turned down my request for an interview and a ride-along.”

He stopped wiping and turned to her, his brow raised in a way that did interesting things to her tummy. Damn, the man had quite the smolder. “Most reporters would be able to infer from that answer that they should go after a different story.”

Mac knew it was crazy, but if she didn’t know better, she’d think Dixon was teasing her—if not outright flirting. Well, she could play that game, too. But while she wasn’t above using her feminine wiles to get a story, she needed to make sure she was right about him first.

She moved a little closer. If he backed up, she’d assume she read him wrong and would retreat accordingly. If he didn’t, she might be able to work him a little bit.

Dixon did neither. Instead, he took a step toward her so that they were standing even closer together. She hadn’t realized how big the SWAT officer was until that moment. He towered over her by almost a foot, and his shoulders were nearly twice as wide as she was. She decided she suddenly liked really big men.

Damn, it was going to be hard remembering this guy was the target of her next in-depth investigative article.

“I’ve never been very good at picking up subtle hints.” She gave him her best award-winning smile—the one she used on her editor when she wanted a really juicy story—and moved a fraction of an inch closer. He smelled nice. “I was simply waiting outside the compound so I could talk to you and straighten out the obvious misunderstanding the department had.”

“Of course.” He returned her smile with one of the sexiest grins she’d ever seen. “Because it must have been a mistake. After all, what cop wouldn’t want to talk to the ever-insightful Ms. Mackenzie Stone, right?”


Mac gave him a real smile this time. It was hard not to. He was one of those rare men who could be charming with a few carefully chosen words. And he seemed attracted to her—at least she was pretty sure he was.

She was just trying to figure out how to use that attraction to weasel an invite for an in-depth interview with the hunky SWAT commander when the door to the operations vehicle opened and two of his men climbed in. They hesitated for a moment when they saw her, as if surprised to find their superior alone with a woman in the back of the operations vehicle. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if they could know she was a journalist looking for a story.

One of the men was Senior Corporal Michael Taylor—the man who’d saved her life before. The other wasn’t one of the three she’d ID’d earlier, but she recognized him from the files anyway—Senior Corporal Xander Riggs. He must have been the one who’d slipped into the building before she and Zak got there.

Dixon took a step back, putting some space between them as Taylor closed the door behind him and Riggs.

“This is Mackenzie Stone from the Dallas Daily Star. Ms. Stone, meet Mike Taylor and Xander Riggs, two of my senior team members.”
Being surrounded by three guys this big and muscular in a confined space like the operations vehicle should have made her feel claustrophobic, but that definitely wasn’t how Mac felt right then. She had to make a serious effort to keep her mind in gear as she shook their hands.

She had a hundred questions about the operation she’d just witnessed, but there was one thing she needed to get straight first. “Sergeant Dixon said that one of the bank robbers was KIA. That means he was killed in action, right?”

Riggs glanced at his boss, his dark eyes questioning. Dixon nodded, signaling it was okay to talk to her. “Yes, one of the suspects was shot and killed by a member of the team. He left us no choice. When the power went out, he grabbed a hostage. We ordered him to drop his weapon, but he pointed it at the woman’s head and was about to pull the trigger. A disabling shot wasn’t an option because he was behind the woman.”

Mac noticed Riggs didn’t say which member of the team had shot the suspect, but based on the level of detail he provided and the way the muscle in his jaw flexed, she guessed it was him.

“That must have been a pretty tough shot, considering how crazy it was in there,” she said. “And in the pitch black, too.”

Xander’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. She thought he would have taken it as a compliment, but instead he looked uncomfortable. Why did men find it necessary to downplay every heroic thing they did?

“We have excellent night vision goggles,” Taylor said. “They help.”

“Of course.” She smiled at him. “By the way, thanks for helping me out back in that alley. It’s possible I might have been in a bit of trouble.”

Taylor’s mouth curved. When he smiled, he seemed a lot less intimidating. “Something tells me you find yourself in trouble like that frequently.”

Mac shrugged. “Every now and then,” she said before turning back to Riggs. “I didn’t see you enter the building with the rest of the team. Did you go in before I got here?”

Riggs threw Dixon a sharp look. Instead of giving the corporal the okay, he answered her question this time.

“We dropped Corporal Riggs off a few blocks out from the scene. He hoofed it in over the rooftops while we were getting into position outside. He went in and set up the remote cameras and microphones while everyone inside was focused on us and the other police officers.”

Riggs and Taylor stared at their commander, clearly shocked by how open he’d been about their tactics to a member of the media. Mac was stunned, too. She’d been fishing when she’d asked the question. She hadn’t expected them to actually answer her.

Dixon chuckled. “You don’t have to look so alarmed. It’s not like I shared state secrets. Besides, Ms. Stone will be coming by the compound later today to take a look around and see how we operate.”

Mackenzie did a double take. “Seriously?”

His amber eyes met hers. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? An in-depth look at a day in the life of a SWAT officer?”

She was more interested in finding out if they were hiding something, but she didn’t tell him that.

“I figured if I didn’t make the offer, you’d only hang around outside the compound for months until I agreed to let you in. Or until you tried to sneak into the middle of the next hostage situation,” he said. “This way we can do our job without worrying about you popping up out of
nowhere, and you get to do yours without risking your life.”
She opened her mouth to thank him, but he held up a finger. “There’s one condition, though.”

“Name it.”

“You agree not to detail any of our tactical procedures or techniques like the one I just told you about. You print those and you’ll get my team killed.” He lifted a brow. “Do we have an agreement?”

Mac nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

She’d agree to whatever he wanted if it got her in the compound—even if it meant going back on her word later. Although, after today, she wasn’t sure there was a story. She seriously doubted these guys were doing drugs, regardless of what Marvin said. But that didn’t matter. No way was she passing up an opportunity like this.

“I’ll see you at the compound this afternoon then,” Dixon said as he opened the door for her. “Say three o’clock?”

She smiled up at him. “I’ll be there.”

Mac had to resist the urge to do a little happy dance as she hurried back to the news van. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but somehow she’d gotten herself an engraved invitation to get up close and personal with the country’s most elite tactical unit—the Dallas PD SWAT.

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