Page 4 of Daddy’s Pursuit (The Daddy Guard #1)

Chapter Four

“Damn perp was just a low-level thug,” Matteo Batista growled as he shook his head angrily, looking at the skinny guy who sat in the holding cell. “Doesn’t know a damn thing about the operation.”

Jack looked at his fellow Brother in Blue—though Jack didn’t actually wear the uniform anymore, except when a special occasion called for their dress blues.

Matteo did, though, and he wore it in a way that drove all the women crazy. He was tall, dark, and handsome, checking those boxes the ladies seemed to love. His father was Hispanic, and it showed in his dark skin and eyes.

“Yep,” Jack said. “They just paid him a few dollars and let him live in that shack to stand guard. He wasn’t even supposed to shoot at us.”

“What?” Mateo said before a look of recognition flashed in his eyes. “Ah. A lookout. He was just supposed to alert them when we showed up.”

“Not just alert,” Jack said, holding up a small black rectangular device with a single button in the middle of it. “He was supposed to detonate this. Whole house was wired to blow. Thankfully, this idiot panicked, fired at me instead, and then took off.”

“Son of a—” The curse trailed off as the realization of what might have happened seemed to dawn on Mateo. “There were over twenty cops in there! He would have blown us all sky-high!”

“That’s the idea,” Jack confirmed. “Let’s thank our lucky stars that didn’t happen.” He let a few seconds pass before he said, “This shows that Frank and his crew aren’t playing around. We’ve got to take them off the board and fast.”

Sgt. Batista nodded. “I’ve got all the patrolmen keeping an eye out, spreading the word, and talking to CIs.”

Confidential informants were good sources of information. But Jack had his doubts they could provide anything in this instance. Their enemy, Frank Halloway, knew how the game was played. He was too smart to let anyone talk.

“Thanks,” Jack said. “And me and the other detectives will keep chasing down leads. Maybe we can get these guys—and their guns—off the streets before anyone else get hurt.”

Based on the look in Matteo’s eyes, Jack suspected the man wanted to say more.

All around them, the station buzzed with life. Cops left and some entered. A few carried shotguns and gear bags, ready to setup their “shops” for an evening on patrol. A few who came in were escorting cuffed detainees toward the holding cells.

The aroma of cleaner, piss, and vomit reached Jack’s nose, reminding him of how much he hated this area of the station. At any given time, there were a handful of drunks sleeping it off in one of the cells. They never smelled great, that was for sure.

In fact, sometimes Jack hated the entire station—no matter which part of the building he was in.

He was just getting tired of the bullshit. Right now, he just needed to be away, in the fresh air, or maybe at Auntie Athena’s…

Apparently, his frustration was obvious, because Matteo leaned in and quietly said, “You look stressed, Detective. Perhaps a trip to our common friend’s house would do you a world of good.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Jack’s mouth, despite the grim circumstances of the day. As a fellow Daddy, Matteo understood just what he needed. “I’m going there as soon as I get home and clean up.”

“You look just fine,” Matteo countered. “Why not just drive there when you leave here?”

Jack chuckled. “Tore my pants hurdling some fences. Anyway, you know how it is after a shift.” He waved his hand around. “Just being in here makes me want to shower.”

“I hear that, brother,” Matteo said. “Just don’t waste too much time and maybe I’ll see you there.”

Jack nodded, shook his hand, and then hurried out of the booking area. The stark California sun that greeted him in the parking lot felt wonderful, doing a lot to burn off the grimy feeling that came with those holding cells—even if it was just mentally.

Who am I kidding? Jack asked himself. The job itself gives me that grimy feeling. The holding cells don’t have a thing to do with it.

Walking to his personal SUV, he thought of what awaited him. It wasn’t in the car. It wasn’t at his house.

It awaited him at his happy place.

Auntie Athena’s West Hollywood Nursery.