LOGAN

As soon as I regretfully leave Kayla’s, I head to the station where I know Brantley is working the evening shift and tell him to come to my office and shut the door.

“What’s going on?” he asks, rushed.

“Remember when we saw Kayla leave the house with a black duffle bag?” I ask and he nods. “I found it at her house.”

He gasps, both brows rise.

“She had no idea it was there or what was in it,” I begin.

“So, what was in it?”

“It was paperwork and photos and samples from her job. She’s an interior designer, and they hired her to design a remodel.”

“Well that’s not so bad considering what you thought—”

I interrupt him before he continues. “It’s the proof we’ve been needing.” I smile in anticipation of what’s to come. “We’re going to need some backup for this.”

I show him everything. Kayla’s pictures on her iPad. The notes. The explanation of the design. It’s all here.

“I think we’ll need to continue around-the-clock stakeouts until we know the remodel is done and they fill up their stock. The more we find and pin on them, the longer the sentence we can get them.”

“I can do nights all this week,” he offers. “Royal put me on bitch shift anyway, so might as well volunteer for the easy shit.” He laughs, although I know he’s pissed about being put on nights.

“Good. I’ll do days and round up another for the remaining shift. Once their shipment comes in and they stock up their inventory, that’s when we get the warrant re-issued and serve.”

“Sounds like a plan, boss,” he mocks with a salute.

“Don’t flatter me, Hunter. Unless you like it when I boss you around?” I lick my lips and wink, knowing it’ll annoy the fuck out of him.

“Fuck you. I’m leaving.” He stands up and heads for the door.

I’m laughing my ass off just as the doors whips open and Supervisor Royal comes in.

“Glad you two are both here. Sit,” he directs at Brantley. “We need to talk.”

––––––––

Two hours later, the three of us are exiting my office. Royal demanded an update, assuming I had one since I was in the office this late. I figured he’d be home by then, but he nearly works around the clock. Never goes home when he’s supposed to. That’s probably why his young daughter gets away with what she does or why she does it in the first place.

I show him everything Kayla found and explained her notes to him. He knows everything except for the part where his daughter’s involved. Hell, I don’t know what her involvement is but I’m not about to rock that boat and blow this case completely. He agrees to waiting until the remodel is done and doing stakeouts to watch for drug contents being brought into the house. If we can, getting them on camera would be enough evidence to sentence them, but figuring they’re probably smarter than that, they’ll park in the garage and unload everything first. The real goal is to wait until the house is full of drugs and money then serve them the search warrant. They’ll have no idea we’ll already know where to look.

Royal is firm on sticking to our stakeout schedule. Day after day, I sit in my unmarked car and watch a house for eight hours straight. It gives me too much time to think, which I hate, but I tell Kayla to keep me entertained while I’m stuck here.

K: What is faster? Hot or cold?

I smile at her text. She’s been sending me random jokes and riddles all week long, which I kind of love. I’ll take any reason to talk to her and spend time with her, even if it’s over texting.

L: I want to say...cold?

K: Nope. Hot, because catching a cold is easy! Hahaha!

I roll my eyes and snort.

L: All right, you got me there.

K: Why don’t they play poker in the jungle?

L: Because there’s too many cheetahs...

K: You totally Googled that one.

L: Maybe.

K: So no action yet?

K: Wait. You’ve been holding it for eight hours every day?

L: Well. Not exactly... let’s not talk about that.

K: LOL!! Omg... you’ve been pissing in a bottle, haven’t you?

L: Yes. Are you happy now?

K: Why would you pissing in a bottle make me happy?

L: Kayla...

K: Kidding! Want me to bring you an extra bottle?

I love this. Chatting and making jokes gives me hope that everything is going to be all right. She seems more comfortable around me, which makes me think that maybe one day things could be where they were before the accident.

L: As much as I appreciate the gesture, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

I don’t need her coming anywhere near this damn neighborhood again.

I bite my lip and shake my head.

L: You’re evil.

K: I prefer, devilishly charming.

I don’t get a chance to respond because just as I look up, I see a large white van pull into the driveway of the drug house. It’s not one of their regular vehicles, but as soon as the garage door opens and it pulls inside, I get a feeling this is it.

The garage door closes immediately after, and without seeing who drove, I can only make assumptions. However, I’m fairly certain this is a shipment from one of the big deliveries our undercover cops heard about. It’d been delayed, but now that the redesign is officially finished, it was only a matter of time.

Just as I’m about to call dispatch and contact Supervisor Royal, Penelope’s car pulls up and parks in the driveway. Fuck, I mutter under my breath. I was really hoping she’d stay out of this while we busted them. She’s in a similar getup as before—six-inch heels, designer bag, and heavy makeup caked on her face—looking much older than seventeen. She enters the house the same way as before—walks right in without knocking. She’s obviously a part of this, and it makes my stomach sick just thinking about the load of shit she’s about to be in.

The boy rushes out with determination written all over his young face. Getting a better look at him this time, he’s definitely no older than sixteen. Baggy pants, a band T-shirt, and a backwards cap gives so much away about him. Considering I’ve worked on dozens of drug cases and busted many people who looked “normal” and completely unsuspecting, I’ve learned it’s best to not judge someone based off their looks. However, we’ve already watched him deal drugs to people as they drive up, exchange, and leave in less than sixty seconds.

He’s grabbing something in the back of her car, and I recognize it as the same black duffle bag as the one Kayla had, but I highly suspect it doesn’t contain paperwork and paint samples.

If I could capture him doing another exchange, it’ll bring my whole theory together.

Just as the boy slams the door shut, the father comes running out of the house and charges for the boy.

“Holy fuck,” I mutter aloud, completely blindsided by his reaction. “What the fuck is going on?”

The father pushes the boy into the car and pins him by the neck. This case just went from a drug bust to a child abuse dispute. Knowing I’ll have to call it in now, I watch as Penelope Royal comes stumbling out of the house in her heels and screams at the father to let the boy go. She’s slapping him on the back and crying.

Good Lord.

This is fucking insanity.

I call dispatch, telling them exactly what’s going on and what I witnessed. Just as I’m calling Supervisor Royal to get the team out here, I see the father roll his shoulder back and push Penelope off him. She trips and falls on her ass against the cement.

Goddammit.

Backup is on its way, but I’m not waiting.

I gather my gear and draw my gun out as soon as my feet hit the pavement. I want to be ready for when the first squad car arrives so our suspects don’t flea. Crouching down behind some bushes, I slowly make my way toward the house.

The shouting gets louder. The father continues to push the boy around while Penelope screams at them to stop.

“Shut up, you fucking whore!” I hear him spit out at Penelope. “Were you always fucking both of us?”

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that!” the boy shouts, grabbing the dad’s attention back to him.

This just went from zero to Jerry Springer in less than five seconds.

The father fists his hand at the neck of the boy’s shirt and swings his arm back. Penelope screams again and the boy ducks down just in time to wrap his arms around the dad’s waist and push him to the ground.

They’re rolling around trying to punch and kick each other, and in the distance, I finally hear the sirens. Fortunately, I don’t think they can hear it just yet over all their shouting.

Stepping out from behind the bushes, I stay down behind parked cars on the street. They’re not paying attention and are completely shocked when I yell at them to get down. My gun is drawn and the moment their eyes land on me, the yelling and fighting stops.

“On the ground! Now!” I shout again, jerking my head down to the cement. “Lay flat on the ground. Hands up!” I order, and all three of them surrender their bodies to the ground.

The sirens are louder now as five squad cars come racing down the street with their lights blaring. They surround the block with their cars and draw out their guns as they approach the scene.

“Penelope!” Supervisor Royal. Fuck.

“Daddy! Oh my God, Daddy! Help me, please!” she pleads, and when I glance over at him, he’s waiting for my approval. He knows the rules, but considering the only thing Penelope is probably guilty of is having an affair with a man twice her age and cheating on him with his underage son, I doubt she’s dealing drugs. However, I don’t doubt for a second that they were both buying her gifts with their drug money.

Brantley and another officer take over and grab the father and son, cuffing them both. They pull them from the ground and walk them to a squad car.

Withdrawing my gun, I reach for the search warrant we were honored with once we had the pictures of the redesign and that was enough for drug speculation.

I slap the warrant against the man’s chest and since his hands are restricted, I tuck it into his front shirt pocket.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he spits.

“We have a warrant to search the premises. You’ll need to stay clear until we’re done.”

“A search warrant? For what? We were just wrestling. Father and son stuff. We didn’t break any of your fucking laws.”

“Cussing and swearing at an officer in front of your son. Nice.”

I turn and walk away, but he shouts at me to wait.

“What?”

His eyes lower and guilt is written all over his face. He knows he’s in deep shit. Even if he had the redesign to hide his drugs and money, there’s no way he had time to hide it all before their fight broke out. He knows by the swarm of cops that we’ve been onto him and will find what we’re looking for.

“My son goes free,” he mutters. “I’ll plead guilty for all of it; just don’t charge him. Please.”

“I don’t think I can do that, sir. I have footage and photos of him exchanging drugs and money. He’s old enough to be tried as an adult if the court finds him guilty.”

He swallows hard, his eyes averting to his son who’s standing next to him with his head down.

“I’ll tell you my supplier,” he pleads.

I arch a brow, intrigued.

“I tell you and my son walks.”

Glancing over at Brantley who’s been working on this case with me for weeks, he gives me a nod. Getting the supplier’s name and information would be worth much more than locking up a sixteen-year-old kid. It’d be huge.

––––––––

Three hours later, I’m finally back home. Completely exhausted, yet my mind is wide awake. I can’t stop thinking about everything that just happened. We found over twenty pounds of marijuana and cocaine, along with heroin and pills. It’s one of the largest busts we’ve had in years.

Everyone was in a great mood when we returned, except Supervisor Royal. He’s pissed beyond words, and I know better than to push those boundaries. He can deal with his daughter on his own because I’m staying out of that dilemma.

The father was taken into custody for questioning. After working long hours this week, I’m ready to get back home. I decide to leave the paperwork for another day.

As I’m walking out to my car, I call Kayla.

“Hello?” she answers, sleepily.

“Hey! Shit, did I wake you?”

I hadn’t checked the time.

“It’s okay. What’s up?” she asks with a smile.

“Well, just thought you’d like to know that your pictures and notes helped take down a drug house.”

“Really? You busted him?” Her voice perks up, obviously now more awake.

“Sure did. Grown-ass man on his knees, begging and crying.”

“Shut up. For real?”

I laugh at her excitement. God, it feels good to hear her voice after the week I’ve had. For once, she was the one to rescue me.

“I want to see you soon,” I tell her. It’s been days since we’ve been able to.

“I think I can arrange for that to happen,” she tells me in a sultry voice.

“Good,” I say with a smile although she can’t see me. I can’t help it though. The way she makes me feel never changed since I fell for her all those months ago. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep.”

“Goodnight, Detective. Good work.” Her tone is flirtatious and it has me blushing like a lovesick teenage boy.

“Goodnight, Angel.”