Chapter 13
Luke
“Yummy,” I say, a big smile on my face.
“Yup, it was good,” Connor replies as he holds the door open for me. “My first coffee gelato too. I’ll be having another, that’s for sure…”
I giggle and step through the door onto the street, the taste of unicorn swirl and rainbow sprinkles still lingering on my tongue.
A moment later and Connor’s beside me, his presence steady and warm, his hand brushing my back as we pause on the sidewalk.
That moment in the gelato shop—his story about his team leader, the way he called me “good boy” with that teasing grin—has left me soft, my Little side brimming with a warmth I haven’t felt in days.
But it’s more than that.
Opening up to Connor this morning, even just a little, has cracked something open between us, a fragile trust that’s making me question my stubborn need to go it alone.
I’m about to tease him about being a grump again when my phone buzzes in my pocket, sharp and insistent. I fish it out, expecting a text from my diner source, but it’s a news alert from Justice Heart’s app. The headline hits me like a punch…
West Quay Source Found Dead in Apparent Homicide.
My heart stutters, and I click through, my fingers trembling as I scan the article. It’s Mike, my source, the one who hinted at Haynes’s cartel ties. Found in a back alley, throat slit, no suspects.
The article’s words blur, my breath catching as fear claws up my spine…
“Connor,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the bustle of the boulevard. I hold up my phone, the screen shaking in my hand. “Mike… he’s dead. Murdered.”
Connor’s eyes narrow, and he steps closer, his hand on my arm, steadying me.
“Breathe, Luke,” Connor says, his voice low and calm, but I can see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flick to the street, scanning for threats. “You’re okay. Just take it slow and tell me what’s going on.”
I shake my head, my Little side screaming for comfort while my journalist side reels.
“He was my source,” I say, my voice cracking. “The guy from the bar, the one who mentioned cartel money. He’s gone, Connor. Someone got to him.” My eyes sting, and I blink hard, trying to keep it together. “This is… it’s bigger than I thought. Way bigger. I’m… scared.”
Connor’s grip tightens, his thumb brushing my arm, and it’s like an anchor, grounding me.
“You’re safe with me, Little Scoop,” Connor says, his Daddy tone slipping through, warm and firm. “But you need to tell me everything. Absolutely no more holding back. Whatever you’ve got on Haynes, it’s putting you directly in the crosshairs. Talk to me.”
My heart races, fear and guilt twisting together.
Mike’s dead because of me, because I pushed him to talk, because I’m digging into something that’s clearly more dangerous than I realized.
I glance at my backpack, the flash drive hidden inside, and feel its weight like a stone.
I’ve been holding onto it like it’s my ticket to breaking this story, but now it feels like a bomb, ready to blow up in my face.
Connor’s eyes are on me, patient but unyielding, and I know I can’t keep everything from him anymore. Not after this.
“Okay,” I say, my voice small, almost lost in the street noise.
“The flash drive… it’s got more than I told you.
I haven’t decrypted it fully—my tech skills aren’t that great—but I think as well as emails, bank records, it’s maybe even evidence of murders and bribery tied to Haynes.
Not just cartel money, but… serious stuff.
Like, people getting killed.” I swallow hard, my fingers tightening on my backpack.
“I got it from a source I can’t name, not yet.
But it’s why I’ve been so cagey. If this gets out, it could ruin Haynes, but it could also…
I don’t know, Connor. It’s big. It all feels so big right now. ”
I can feel myself about to start truly panicking, but there’s something about Connor’s presence that keeps me just about calm enough to function…
Connor nods, his expression softening, but there’s a steel in his eyes that tells me he’s already calculating our next move.
“Thank you, Luke,” Connor says, his voice low and sincere. “Thank you for telling me. That’s a big step. I can help with the flash drive—my men have got tech guys who can crack anything. But you’ve gotta trust me to handle this with you.”
I nod, my throat tight, but I’m still clutching my backpack, not ready to hand over the drive. It’s my story, my proof, and even with Mike’s death hanging over me, I can’t let it go completely. Not yet.
“I’m trying,” I say, my voice shaky. “I just… I need to be sure. This story’s everything to me.”
“I know,” Connor says, his hand squeezing my arm gently. “And I’m not taking it away. I’m here to help you tell it, but we do it smart. Safe.”
Connor pauses, his eyes searching mine, and I feel that spark again, that connection from three years ago, stronger now, pulling me toward him despite the fear curling in my gut.
Before I can say more, his phone buzzes, and he glances at it, his jaw tightening.
“Mr. G,” Connor mutters, reading the message. His eyes flick back to the street, sharper now, like he’s sensing something I can’t. “We need to move, Luke. Right now. Something’s off—I can feel it.”
I frown, my heart still pounding from the news about Mike.
“Move? But the diner meet—it’s in twenty minutes,” I say. “I need to talk to this guy, Connor. He’s got receipts, actual proof—”
“No,” Connor cuts me off, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.
“We’re leaving. Now. That news about Mike changes everything.
You’re a target, and I’m not taking chances.
” He grabs my hand, his grip strong but not rough, and pulls me into the flow of the bustling street. “Blend in. Stay close.”
I want to argue, to dig my heels in and insist on the diner, but the fear in my gut stops me. Mike’s dead. Slit throat, alley, no suspects. The words keep looping in my head, and for the first time, I’m genuinely scared—not just nervous, not just adrenaline-junkie excited, but bone-deep terrified.
This investigation’s taking me somewhere darker than I ever imagined, and Connor’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
I pull Swift out of the backpack and hold him tight, his soft shape grounding me just a little, and let Connor guide me through the crowd, his broad shoulders cutting a path through tourists and locals.
The street’s alive, all color and noise—street performers, café chatter, the clink of glasses and plates—but it feels like a mask, hiding the danger I know is out there.
Connor’s hand is warm in mine, his pace steady, and I can feel his eyes scanning, always scanning, waiting for the attack, any suspicious movement. I glance up at him, his silver-streaked hair catching the sun, and feel a rush of relief.
For the first time, I’m glad he’s here, even if I’d never admit it out loud.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice barely carrying over the street noise. “The safehouse?”
“Not yet,” Connor says, his eyes flicking to a side alley, then back to the crowd.
“I need to check something first. Mr. G’s got intel on a cartel safehouse nearby, one of Mallen’s.
If we can confirm it’s active, it’ll give us leverage.
We also don’t know how compromised we are.
We have to play this smart. But you stay glued to me, Luke. No wandering, no heroics.”
I nod, my heart thudding, but there’s a spark of excitement mixed with the fear.
A cartel safehouse? That’s the kind of lead I’d kill for—well, maybe not kill, but you get the idea.
If Connor can get us close, I might get something solid, something to back up the flash drive.
But the fear’s still there, sharper now, Mike’s death a stark reminder of what’s at stake.
I hug my backpack closer, Swift’s beak a familiar comfort, and try to focus on Connor’s steady presence, his hand in mine.
“I’m still scared,” I admit, my voice small, almost lost in the crowd. “Like, really scared. This isn’t just a story anymore, is it?”
Connor glances at me, his eyes softening, and for a second, I see the Daddy in him, not just the Guard.
“It’s still your story, Little Scoop,” Connor says, his voice low and warm. “But it’s bigger than you thought, and that’s okay. You’re not alone. I’ve got you, and we’re gonna nail Haynes together. Can you trust me on that?”
I swallow hard, my eyes stinging, and nod.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice steadier now. “I trust you, Connor. More than I did yesterday.”
Connor’s lips twitch, not quite a smile but close, and he squeezes my hand.
“Good boy,” Connor says, and my Little side practically purrs, warmth flooding my chest. I want to lean into him, let him wrap me up and make the fear go away, but I hold back, my journalist side still clinging to the mission.
We weave through the crowd, blending in with the tourists, the street performers, the couples sipping cocktails at outdoor cafés. Connor’s pace is deliberate, his eyes never stopping, and I can feel the tension in him, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
My phone’s still in my hand, the news alert about Mike burned into my brain, and I keep glancing at it, half-expecting another alert, another death.
My other sources—Carla, the finance guy, the club guy—are they next? Am I?
“Stop thinking so hard,” Connor says, his voice cutting through my spiral. “I can see it on your face. You’re safe with me, Luke. Focus on that. Focus on using your sharp wit to help keep us both safe”
I nod, forcing a small smile, and grip his hand tighter.
“Okay, Bossy,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, but my voice wavers, and he catches it, his eyes softening again.
“We’re gonna get through this,” Connor says, his tone firm, like a promise. “You keep being brave, and I’ll keep being bossy. Deal?”
“Deal,” I say, my smile a little more real this time. I put Swift back in my backpack and take Connor’s hand in mine—it’s enough to keep me moving, keep me fighting.
The fear’s still there, sharp and cold, but so is the fire.
Haynes’s going down, and I’m going to make it happen, with Connor by my side.
For the first time, it feels like I’m not working alone…