Jonathon opened the door and stepped onto the front porch followed by Octavia.

“What’s going on?” Octavia asked.

The officer held up a picture of a young African American teenage girl. Braces sat along her teeth that were on wide presentation as she smiled. Octavia and Jonathon looked down at the picture.

“This is Ayana Bradwell. She is sixteen and has been missing for two days.”

Octavia gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Mrs. Monroe’s granddaughter?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid so.”

 “Oh no, no, no,” Octavia said. Jonathon slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to his side.

Mrs. Monroe was the only senior woman on the block. All of the neighbors looked after her, checking in from time to time to see if there was anything Mrs. Monroe needed. Her granddaughter had been in her custody, but Octavia wasn’t sure why. Octavia had only met the young girl on a few occasions, seeing her walk to and from the school bus during times Octavia was flying out of her apartment, late for work.

“Let me know what I can do,” Jonathon said.

“Well,” the hefty officer said, “we’ve put together a search team, and we could use as many people as possible. As you know, the first few hours and days are the most critical.”

Dread settled inside Octavia. In an instant, she was hit with the memory of her parents’ death. The blaring squeal of the tires, the force of the collision, her father’s name coming out her mouth in a high-pitched scream. Octavia had reached for her father before she passed out, and the vivid images she saw now had never been so clear.

Feeling her trembling beside him, Jonathon looked down at Octavia. “O, you okay?” He turned to face her fully and caught her just as she came out of her trance.

“Um, I’m fine,” Octavia said.

Jonathon glanced to her noticeably shaky hand. “O, what’s going on?”

Octavia looked away from his invasive stare. “Nothing, I’m okay.” She smiled up at Jonathon then adverted her eyes to the officer.

Picking up where their conversation left off, Octavia tried to shift everyone’s focus. “Let us know what we can both do to help,” she said, keenly aware of Jonathon’s sharp penetrating stare that still lingered on her.

“The men in blue, along with the ninth district firefighters, and volunteers will be searching in shifts. If you’re willing to open up your home, we could use your house as a breaking point for our people to grab water, a quick bite to eat, and use your amenities.”

“Say no more. I’d love to help.”

The officer removed a clipboard he had tucked underneath his large arm. “Great, I’ll write you down as a stop on the list. I just need you to sign this paper.” The officer gave Octavia the clipboard and ink pen. “This is stating you agree to allow your property to be used in the search and rescue of Ayana Bradwell.”

Octavia signed her name on the form and handed it back to the officer.

“Could you use more men, officer?” Jonathon asked, returning his attention to the conversation.

“Of course. We could always use extra bodies.”

Jonathon reached out to shake the officer’s hand. “Let me make a phone call. Where should the men sign up?”

“When they arrive, they can meet me at one of these stations.” The officer reached in his top pocket and pulled out a card along with a piece of paper from his clipboard outlining other houses that were temporary stations for the search party. “Call me on this line when they’re ready to sign in, and I’ll give them an area. Do you have any idea how many men will be able to help us out?”

Jonathon pulled his wrist forward and checked the time. “The most I could get you in the next few hours would be about two hundred, maybe two-fifty.”

The officer’s eyes grew. As if recognition set in, the officer held his finger out at Jonathon and pointed with wide eyes. “You own that private security firm, don’t you?” 

“Rose Security Group,” Jonathon confirmed.

The officer reached out to shake Jonathon’s hand with more appreciation this time around. “We at the Chicago Police Department thank you, son, for helping out. I’ve heard good things about your group. Chicago PD could use a good firm like you on payroll,” the officer gushed.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jonathon offered.

“Good, good,” the officer cajoled. “Well, I’ll let you two get to it and make my rounds down the street. You’ve got my number,” he said to Jonathon. Turning to Octavia, the officer dipped his head. “Ma’am.”

They watched him leave, and smoothly Octavia moved out of Jonathon’s arms. She was halfway in the door when he called out to her.

“Octavia.”

Turning back to him, Octavia leaned into the doorjamb.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Questionably, she responded, “Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I want to help?”

 “There’s nothing wrong with helping, but you still have to be careful. You don’t know the people who will be in and out of your house. For all we know, the person responsible could be among them.”

That sent a shiver down her spine.

“I don’t mean to scare you, but it’s the truth.”

Octavia rubbed her lips together. “Well it’s too late now, so if you’re that worried about me, get me some security.”

Jonathon pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. Octavia reached for his empty hand and pulled him inside. He shut the door with a shoulder and paced behind her to the kitchen.

“Have a seat, and I’ll fix you some coffee.”

Jonathon rested on a stool as Octavia made her way around the medium sized kitchenette. Pulling a mug from the cabinet, Octavia shuffled to the machine and powered on her Nespresso coffeemaker. It was the same appliance they used at work, and Octavia was certain it was made with magic as it could whip up cappuccino that tasted like pure bliss. While the Nespresso brewed a fresh batch of coffee, Octavia strolled to the refrigerator and pulled out eggs, bacon, and pancake batter.

She listened as Jonathon’s smooth voice spoke into the phone, giving instructions to a crew of his men that would help with the search for Ayana Bradwell. He lifted a brow as he watched Octavia pull out skillets, glassware, plates, and utensils. When she shuffled past him again, Jonathon circled his arm around her waist, catching her like a spring when she bounced off of him. Octavia turned full circle with a smile.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Octavia glanced around her kitchen.

“I’m preparing to have a house full of people. And if you’re hanging around, you might want to pull your car into my garage.”

“You’re right, but do you need me to make a run to the store for you?”

“Hmm,” Octavia reopened the refrigerator, “I guess I will need more food.”

Jonathon rose from his seat. “I’ll be back.” He stepped closer to her. “Don’t let anyone in until I return.”

Octavia smirked. “Is that an order, Lieutenant?” 

A charming smile grew on his lips. “Yes, it is, and do you know what happens if you disobey a direct order?”

Without warning, Octavia was covered in a torrent of heat, and she fought against the urge to tilt up on her toes and kiss his smooth lips. Mistakenly her eyes dropped to his mouth, and Jonathon noticed. He moved in even closer, and Octavia slipped her hands against his chest. The movement was meant to halt Jonathon’s advancement, but the friction of heat that sizzled against her palms after touching him was daunting. She had a notion to grip his collar and pull his lips to hers. But she chickened out, turning her head away to pretend something else had caught her attention.

“So, a few cartons of eggs, bacon, grits, oatmeal, orange juice, water, I’m out of strawberries, too. Get some strawberries.” Octavia turned back to face him.

“Strawberries, huh?”

Jonathon’s all-pervading gaze stirred her when their eyes met again.

“Yeah, you know they’re my midnight snack.”

Jonathon ran his tongue across his teeth. “Girl, you’re gonna fix all that food and have them men outside sleep against a tree.”

Octavia balked at his implication. “Are you saying I’m trying to give them the itis?”

“I’m going to the store to grab some water, bagels, and crème cheese. All this other food you’ve taken out put it back up. The sheriff never expected you to turn this place into the International House of Pancakes.”

Octavia twisted her lips.

“What is a crème cheese bagel going to do for those grown men and women?”

“Let’s make a deal,” Jonathon relented. “I’ll go get crème cheese, bagels, water, orange juice, and strawberries. You can make your famous fruit bowl and sit out samples along with the bagels.”

Octavia smiled. “Am I allowed to add a dash of whip crème topping to the fruit bowl?” Her eyes were wide.

“No,” Jonathon said in a straightforward tone. “The whip crème topping is for me only.” He went on to mumble. “Give a little inch, and you take a mile…”

Octavia laughed and pushed his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Jonathon leaned into her and kissed her forehead. “Don’t let anyone in until I return,” he reiterated.

“Scouts honor,” Octavia said.

“You actually have to be a scout for that to mean something,” Jonathon responded.

“Oh.” Octavia shrugged. “I just always wanted to say that.”

Jonathon chuckled and kissed her face again before turning to leave. When Octavia was alone, she went to her bedroom and removed her clothes to take a quick shower. Her weekend of rest was over before it began. Even with the flurry of to-dos, Octavia’s thoughts were never far from Jonathon. He made her feel so special when they were together, and while most women would love to be with a man like him, Octavia worried that if she couldn’t face her parents’ death, she would end up pushing Jonathon away.