Page 14 of Daddy’s Pursuit (The Daddy Guard #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Jack was at war with himself.

On one hand, he wanted to charge into the warehouse, guns blazing. Of course, he couldn’t actually do that. There was such a thing as the law and even suspects had rights. He respected that.

And he wasn’t some Old West cowboy. Los Angeles had changed a lot since it had been one of the farthest towns west in the U.S., back when Mexican ranchers and farmers, white cowboys, and settlers from the east converged on the area, all working to build a fledgling community.

Now, it was one of the most populated cities in the United States, only second to New York City.

That progress brought with it all kinds of laws and rules.

So, long story short, Jack couldn’t handle this the old-school way that ran in his blood.

The way his grandpa did back when he wore a badge and fought gangsters in that area in the Thirties and Forties.

Or how his great grandpa did when he rode as a guard for a stage line.

Jack had to do this by the books. The fact that this case was personal couldn’t play a role in anything.

Every I had to be dotted. Every T crossed.

Otherwise, when he finally did catch Frank Holloway, the damn case might get thrown out.

He’d seen it happen more than one time and it boiled his blood.

Plus, he had no desire to kill anyone. No normal person did, right? He’d avoid bloodshed if it was within his power to do so.

So, he wouldn’t go all lone cowboy here. He’d play this straight.

It was tough, though. Because he wanted to breach that warehouse and kick some ass.

Instead, he rolled his unmarked cruiser to a stop and got out to greet the other detectives and officers who’d assembled.

“So this is real?” he asked Detective Greg Marshall. “I’m not dreaming?”

Greg, a man of about fifty-two years with a slight middle-aged paunch to his belly and thinning, graying hair, chuckled.

“Ask and ye shall receive. The surveillance team picked it up last night on the club’s wire.

According to that conversation, they have six million worth of guns stashed just on the other side of that wall.

” He jerked his head toward the looming warehouse that rested in the back of an aging industrial lot.

All around were other warehouses, some in better shape than others.

The one Jack cared about looked pretty good, with no visible broken windows and minimal damage to the outside walls.

“Was Frank at the club last night?” Jack asked.

His temper was threatening to flare up. He hadn’t had a read on the suspect’s location for months. If he’d been in the nightclub he owned and Jack hadn’t been alerted, then he was going to be royally pissed.

It looked like that was the case, because Detective Marshall nodded. “But the intelligence team didn’t realize who they were listening to until later.”

“You mean we could have had him last night?” Jack growled.

Marshall raised a calming hand. “Easy. They didn’t realize it. The audio is hard to hear. And get this, no one saw him coming in our out. But this is verified. It’s him.” He held up a small audio device, hit play, and stood still as Jack listened to the conversation recorded last night.

“Son of a bitch,” Jack said, once it was over. “It was him.”

He’d know that voice anywhere. He’d heard it too many times not to. But that personal history between Jack and Frank didn’t matter right now.

Catching the bastard did.

That was all that was important.

Well, all that was important when it came to the case. In Jack’s other world, what truly mattered was cute Little Iris. But it was all connected. As long as an arms dealer was running around Los Angeles selling high-power guns to the highest bidders, no one was safe.

That included Little Iris.

And Jack would be damned if she, or any innocent person, was hurt because of Frank Holloway’s greed.

Right now wasn’t the time to be distracted by thoughts of Iris. It was imperative that he focus. So, as hard as it was, he shoved her from his mind and said, “How long until SWAT gets here?”

As if answering the question, an engine roared nearby.

The detectives looked to see an ominous, black armored vehicle rolling up.

If anyone was inside that warehouse, they’d probably already noticed the cops gathering outside.

That didn’t matter, Jack thought. They’d know they were there soon enough either way.

“We need to move fast,” he said, once the SWAT commander had hopped down from the behemoth truck. “They have access to a lot of firepower in there. Let’s not give them time to mount a defense.”

The commander nodded, radioed a few orders to his men, and then everyone got into position.

It was go time.

“Shit!” Jack yelled, kicking an empty beer can that lay on the floor of the equally empty warehouse.

That can was all the cavernous room held.

The lights overhead shone brightly off the clean concrete floor. The echo of his curse was still fading off the high metal ceiling as he walked deeper inside.

“This was a setup,” Jack said. “He’s just toying with us.”

Toying with me , he noted silently. But he kept that comment to himself.

He exhaled loudly, turned to Detective Marshall, and said, “Five will get you ten Holloway was never at that club last night.”

The other man cocked his head to the side. “Huh?”

“Think about it.” Jack started pacing the bare floor. “We had a surveillance team sitting on that place. The front and back were covered. But no one saw Frank Holloway go in or out.”

Marshall shook his head. “But we have him on the recording.”

“That’s easy. He pre-recorded that. Hell, he might have even phoned it in, and they just put him on speaker.

Could’ve been a Zoom call, for all we know.

This day and age, that shit’s easy. He was toying with us, making us think he was there and that this was good intel.

He just did this to rub our noses in it. ”

A look of recognition flickered in Detective Marshall’s eyes. “Yeah. You’re right. We got played.”

More than ever, Jack wanted to punch Frank Holloway in the damn nose.

But stewing over his anger wouldn’t help matters any.

The arms dealer was out there somewhere.

Every day that he was free meant more guns in the hands of people who had no business having them. Now was not the time to lose his head.

Nor was it time to reflect on how much the job was getting to him. But it seemed as if every day, the bullshit just kept piling up. More and more questions about the department and his role in it swirled around his head.

And now that Little Iris was in the picture, it was more important than ever that he stay safe. The thought of getting shot or knifed on the streets and leaving her in this world alone was enough to terrify him. She needed him.

Needed Daddy.

He shook his head. He barely knew her. Now was not the right time to get swept away like some hopeless romantic.

Now was the time to think clearly and solve this case.

And later tonight, it would be time to set everything aside for an hour or two and take a sweet Little out for ice cream.

That caused him to actually smile, despite the anger that roiled just beneath the surface.

Go on, Jack. Do your job today. Maybe you’ll be one step closer to finding this guy.

But tonight, take Little Iris out and soak up every moment with her.

Then go back to work tomorrow and put Frank away. For good.

For the safety of Little Iris and all of Los Angeles.