“I know. But waiting makes me anxious, and baking helps with that.” I take a seat at the table, setting my herbal tea down. “I think any extra caffeine is a bad idea at the present moment,” I add when he eyes my tea.
He laughs. “Fair enough.”
I’ve known Alan Leopold my entire life. He and my dad served on the police force together, and he’d been there when he was killed. It was Alan who came to the house and told my mother.
Alan who held her when she collapsed.
His wife showed up shortly after and arranged for food to be delivered in the following weeks. Their kindness is something I have never forgotten, and neither of them will ever have to pay for anything in my shop. It’s not much, but it’s all I can do.
“You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asks me.
“Not really. But I’m trying.” I wrap my hands around the warm mug, hoping it’ll fight off some of the chill.
An explosion.
Sawyer nearly died…again.
“Sawyer’s a tough kid,” he says.
I grin. “I’m sure he’d love you calling him a kid.”
“You are all kids to me,” he replies, then takes a drink of his coffee. “You know your dad would be proud of you and Zane.”
My throat constricts. “I miss him so much. Especially when everything is going sideways.”
He reaches over and covers my hand with his. “I know you do. I miss him, too.” He withdraws his hand and laughs. “You have no idea how many times over the years I’ve been working a case and wanted so badly to ask him a question. Your dad—no one could see patterns like him. The guy could spot a threat from fifteen miles out.”
I smile, remembering all the times my dad would come home from work and tell us these outlandish tales of hunting down bad guys and saving innocents. He made being a police officer sound so glamorous, but now that I’m an adult, I remember the way his shoulders slumped. What he saw weighed on him. And I wish I’d been old enough to see it then. To give him a hug and tell him how proud I am to be his daughter.
“He would have liked Sawyer, too,” Leopold says.
“Yeah, I think he would have, too.”
“You’re happy. I mean, I know things are bad right now, but I see it on your face.”
“Sawyer makes me happy. He always has.”
“Good. If he hurts you, though, he’ll have a line to deal with.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I believe that makes three threats between you, Weston, and Zane.”
“Good.” He laughs again and takes a drink of his coffee. “You know?—”
Someone beats on the back door, and I jump up, knocking my tea hard enough that hot liquid spills out. Leopold gets to his feet and draws his weapon, and all earlier softness vanishes from his expression.
“Get upstairs and lock the door,” he says.
I move toward the stairs as quickly as I can, while he pulls the curtains back enough to look outside. A second later, he’s holstering his firearm and ripping the door open.
A man falls through, landing on the floor with a heavy thud and a loud groan.
“Jack!” I cry out and sprint toward the two men as Leopold drags him all the way inside and locks the door. I drop to my knees at his side. There’s blood smeared all over his face. Droplets are dried on his white T-shirt.
“This is Captain Alan Leopold,” Leopold says into his radio. He steps away and finishes talking, but my attention is on the man before me.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I cup his face in my hands.
He smiles up at me. “Hey.”
