Gillian stated she'd had enough dancing, and threatened everybody to give her a break or else. She grabbed yet another glass of champagne and tasted it. Her eyes moved over the faces, spotting her team, her father, Russell and Aldana dancing way closer than the song required. She'd expected they would dare to get somewhere that night, but with Russell's mom around, there was no way they would even—that was Brock's cologne.

Gillian looked around. He couldn't be too far, if she was able to smell him. But he was nowhere to be seen. She risked a glance over her shoulder and there he was, talking with that big boss from DC who'd called her a pet earlier on. Brock looked like he was trying to get rid of the man, and he had two glasses of champagne in his hands. So she leaned toward Fred, not a step away with Anna, and forced her glass in his hand, ignoring his questioning look.

Feeling like a stupid teen at the prom, Gillian crossed her hands behind her back—they're empty, see? She strolled away from Fred along the edge of the dance floor. Then she paused and sighed—no prince charming willing to ask me to dance or invite me with a glass of champagne? But no scowling prince came around, and she looked down with a mocking scoff at herself. It was all so stupid. She'd had the nerve to face three hundred people to tell them about him, yet she didn't dare to talk to him. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about him that just kept her away. Her. Reg Daredevil Gillian. She could only stand there and hope he would come talk to her.

"Lieutenant?"

She pressed her lips together to keep from flashing a big stupid grin and looked up at him. Brock met her bright blue eyes almost smiling and offered her one of the glasses. She accepted, hoping he wouldn't notice she was blushing.

But he did, and frowned, wondering what could make a woman like her blush. Then he recalled all the possible speeches he'd made up in his mind over the last two hours, waiting for a chance to talk to her.

"Your daughter is adorable," she said softly, before he could utter a single word.

Brock looked up like her, at their children still dancing, and nodded. "Yes, she is."

"But I'm afraid she's smiling too much at my son, Agent Brockner. I trust you'll do something about that."

"Sure. I can arrest your son the next time he asks her for a dance."

Gillian glanced up at him, trying to swallow a giggle, and found Brock smiling at her. And she thought he looked ten years younger when he smiled, and it so totally suited him, even if his face seemed to be made to scowl. That was the man she remembered: his warm, confident smile sparkling in his dark green eyes. He was still in there, hidden and gagged, but definitely alive.

"Shall we?" he said, because it was crystal clear she wouldn't give him the slightest chance to say anything serious.

She hid her surprise and allowed him to give both glasses to a waiter passing by them. Then he stretched out his hand, with a fake frown but still smiling, and she rested hers on his palm, letting him guide her to the dance floor.

They didn't register the many eyes following them when they stood face to face and Brock rounded her back loosely with his arm. Yet, they had hardly taken a step when the song ended and another one began. And it was a slow ballad.

Without even pausing, Brock matched the beat of the song and brought her an inch closer to him.

Gillian kept her eyes down, suddenly not daring to look higher than the tip of his nose. He moved in a smooth, elegant way, and his cologne seemed to wrap around her like his arms didn't. She could feel those piercing eyes of his fixed on her, and she didn't have the slightest idea why, but she just couldn't meet them.

"Thank you," he whispered, still waiting for her to face him, because this shy Gillian was the oddest odd of the whole evening.

She couldn't find her voice, but managed a mild smile as she shook her head, her eyes tracing the line of his jaw. Then she got even closer to him, so their cheeks were almost touching. She didn't mind what he would think. This way, her sudden and complete incapability to face him wouldn't be so obvious.

He heard her voice tremble but a little when she murmured in his ear, "No, thank you."

Brock understood she didn't want him to linger on it. So he moved his arm to keep her close as she was and kept dancing, feeling oddly touched by her attitude —and there was yet another odd. She was so light in his arms, following him gracefully as they moved around to the slow music, her warm breath touching his skin. Dancing with her was pleasant. Brock smelled her sweet floral scent and smiled, recalling her in that tight short dress and her long boots. Call him old fashioned, but she definitely looked way better with this classic outfit, bringing out her delicate skin and the feminine lines of her neck and shoulders.

Their faces being so close, she sensed his smile and her curiosity was just too much to resist, so she leaned slightly back to face him with a questioning frown.

He frowned back at her, and saw her eyes moving down to his still-curled lips and back up to his eyes. So he smiled a little wider. "I was thinking that you look much better tonight than when we caught the Bailey brothers," he said. "This kind of dress suits you better."

She scowled at him. Brock, flattering her? Was he drunk?

He frowned deeper, seeing she didn't believe him.

Gillian felt the temperature spiking around her ears and hurried to hide her face against his. "Agent Brockner, bark at me or I swear I'm gonna hug you, sir," she whispered in his ear.

To her dismay, he chuckled and pressed her a little tighter to his chest, sincerely amused at her threat. Damned profiler, he already knew she wouldn't do it. Yet it felt good. Well, nice. Well, not awkward, bringing her arm to round his shoulders and rest her cheek against his.

"Brock!"

They looked up together and saw Russell brush past people toward them with his phone in his hand. They stepped back from each other at the same time.

"Amber Alert!" Russell said from a couple of yards away.

"Where?" Gillian asked.

"Winthrop!"

Without even trading a glance, Brock followed Russell to the exit while Gillian looked around for her father. She didn't find him, but she spotted the State Police Colonel dancing with his wife, and hurried to him.

"Sir, there's an Amber Alert in Winthrop!" she said, startling the man. "Can we take it?"

The Colonel managed to nod, not quite getting what was going on.

Gillian rushed away, holding up her skirt to keep from tripping on the bottom of her dress on her way out. She saw Fred and Anna and waved at him. "Amber Alert! Get the lads!" she called out, heading to the door, ignoring she was startling people all around her. She found Tanya next. "Take Connor and Andrea to my place and set up there for an Amber Alert."

Her team was already on the move. Cooper left Mattock and Burton looking around puzzled, to stride to the coat-check, where she found Russell and Brock.

"You're going?" she asked.

Brock nodded. They saw Gillian hurrying to them.

"We're going too," she said. "We've got state clearance now."

The rest of her team came close behind her, dragging along their companions.

Cooper saw them all there and nodded to the closest exit. "Go! I'll call off the CARD team."

They hurried away, leaving Kurt to fetch everybody's coats for later delivery.

The trooper Colonel, King Gillian and some more from the PD brass showed up with Mattock and Burton, finding only Cooper there. She turned to face them with her best dismissive look, and said in a calculated condescending way, as she walked through them back into the ballroom, "You can return to your party, gentlemen, the Amber Alert's already been taken care of."

The BLACKBIRD Series
book 1#youlikeit

THE END

You can find the complete Blackbird Series on Amazon.

This story continues on the BLACKBIRD Series book 2, Boston Blues.