Chapter 44
Guy
We don’t want to admit that this could be goodbye, so neither of us say it, but I hold Ella a little longer before I leave. I kiss her head and close my eyes and remember the first time I held her.
When Ella’s mother, Katrina, complained of stomach pains one night, and I took her to the ER.
We were told she was pregnant, in labor, and hours later, we were parents.
We were numb from shock because neither of us had any clue.
She hadn’t missed a period or gotten any bigger—it took us totally by surprise.
We were eighteen years old and suddenly had this tiny person relying on us for everything.
I joined the academy when Ella turned one. I worked my ass off so we could give her everything, even though I had no idea what I was doing. There were nights I’d sit in my car and try to conquer the overwhelming fears I felt every day.
Was I doing enough?
Was I going to fuck her up somehow?
What if I failed?
Then Katrina died when Ella was nine, and our lives were turned upside down. Just like Ella was suddenly in our lives, Katrina was suddenly gone, and the change threw us off course for a long time.
I think I dealt with it the best I could.
I think I put Ella’s needs first.
I hope I did right by her.
As we drive to meet Ranger Luxe, my thoughts are filled with my little girl.
Her first steps, first words, first graduation, first heartbreak, first story she ever let me read, first publishing contract.
Becoming a dad was both the best and most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me, and you never get used to it.
There are always new obstacles thrown your way, and you have to adapt.
Which is why doing this isn’t a difficult thing for me.
There is nothing in this world more important than her. Nothing I wouldn’t do to keep Ella safe and happy, because she may be twenty-five, but to me she’ll always be that little girl who ran to me with scraped knees and broken hearts.
I’ll do anything and everything for her.
The hours pass in a blur. When we arrive at the hotel, the charity event is in full swing. People in tuxedos come and go; women in floor-length dresses exit limousines.
I always hated these things. They cost more to organize than they likely raise, so every invite I got was tossed in the trash.
They represent everything I hate about this world—how performative it’s become, where appearing to be charitable matters more than the charity itself.
These people are salivating over the tax breaks, not the causes they’re supposed to be helping.
I get out of the car and X comes to my side. “They’re gonna search us. Take our weapons.”
I nod, gazing up at the building. “Then you’d better be as quick on your feet as I am.”
He smirks and signals to his brother, and we start up the steps.
Outside the building, smoking a cigarette, as if waiting for this exact moment, is Ranger Luxe.
He’s a big guy. As tall as me, broad, a man who is happy to get his hands dirty.
Rumor has it he was an underground fighter in New York before coming to San Francisco, and I can see that in him.
But despite his reputation, he’s managed to convince the world that he’s nothing but a businessman.
He was voted Most Eligible Bachelor three years in a row, and a string of women have lined the station carpark on the rare occasions we’ve had enough evidence to arrest him, not that anything sticks.
So many of my guys have tried to take this fucker down, but he’s clever.
His drug business is in no way connected to him and he’s never served any time.
Now, I know why. He’s bought huge numbers of my cops, and they’ve been helping him from the inside.
And I’m about to become one of them.
A slow smirk creeps across his face as I approach. I purposefully didn’t wear my uniform, not wanting to draw attention to myself, and now I wish I had. It feels like a shield sometimes, a reminder of who I am and how hard I’ve worked.
“Chief.” Ranger takes the cigarette from between his lips. “Good to see you.”
I grit my teeth. “Let’s just get this over with.”
His eyes move to the men with me, and he jerks his chin in the direction of the door before flicking his cigarette.
We enter, side by side, and the presence he has is almost like a mist of death, as if flowers would curl up and die in his path.
Eyes dart to him, and people whisper, seeming to hold their breath and watch in awe as Ranger Luxe passes them.
“Chief!” someone calls across the lobby, and I pause. Ranger does, too. Senator McNulty approaches with a wide smile and shakes my hand. “You never come to these things!”
I force a laugh. “I figured I’d give it a go.” He glances at my T-shirt and jeans in comparison to his and Ranger’s tux but doesn’t comment on it.
“Mr. Luxe,” he says, his voice edged with suspicion.
“Senator.” The smugness in Ranger’s tone has me wanting to punch the guy. “Guy and I were just about to have a conversation about the upcoming mayoral election.”
My heart slams into my rib cage, and I gape at Ranger.
“You’re running?” the senator asks. “That’s great, Guy.”
“He has my vote,” Ranger says. “And my funding.”
The senator frowns, glancing between us, and I know he’s trying to figure out the connection. An uncorruptible chief of police and the head of San Francisco’s underground.
“Excuse us,” I say, gripping Ranger’s arm and moving us away from the conversation. “So that’s your plan?”
He pulls himself free from my grip. “You’re worth more to me in office.” He strides away, clearly expecting me to follow, and I almost don’t until I realize there’s no choice for me. Ella’s life is on the line.
He takes me into a meeting room. It’s large, with an oval table in the center, bottles of water gathered in the middle. He leans against the table, lighting another cigarette.
“I’m not running,” I say. “You can get plenty out of me as chief—”
“Guy, I have little patience for men who negotiate when they have zero fucking power. It’s a waste of your breath and my time. Give me the drive.”
X mumbles a less-than-complimentary response under his breath. Ranger ignores him. I take out the drive and hand it over.
He pockets it without even looking at it.
“How’d you find it?”
“Does it matter?” I bite back.
He smirks. “I suppose not, although—”
The door bursts open, and I spin to face it. A redhead storms in, face pink with fury, hands balled into fists. She’s in a red dress, a small baby bump evident beneath the silk.
“Ranger, give me your gun.”
Ranger sighs. “Why do you need my gun, little bird?”
She throws her thumb over her shoulder, completely ignoring the rest of us, the pinkness in her cheeks increasing.
“Because if one more person touches my bump without my permission, I want to shoot them in the fucking face.”
Ranger looks unsurprised and bored by the threat. “Killing people at a charity event is a little … uncharitable, don’t you think?”
She pulls a face. “Like anyone here gives a fuck. I’ve donated more than these bloodsuckers ever have, and I didn’t need an evening of caviar and shitty conversation to do it.”
Whoever this woman is, I like her.
She glances at me. “Do you have a gun?”
I shake my head. “No, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Every man in this building has a fucking death wish!” she screeches and spins on her heel, leaving and slamming the door behind her.
The last few minutes feels totally surreal, and I glance at Ranger. “Wife?”
“Not yet,” he says, a twitch of a smirk on his lips. “Good doing business with you, Chief. We’ll meet next week to discuss the election in detail.”
He heads for the door. “Wait, that’s it? You won’t touch Ella or Gable?”
Pausing, he faces me, tucking one hand into his pocket. “I have no interest in either of them as long as you keep me happy.”
Minutes. It took minutes to destroy a career I’ve spent almost thirty years building.
It doesn’t feel real, like I’m watching this all from the outside.
“Wait,” I say, and Ranger lets out a low growl of impatience. “Do you know who cashed in the hit on Asher Flynn?”
He faces me fully. “The only thing I know is that Gable and Asher Flynn were supposed to be the best. Despite their reluctance to murder innocent people, I hired them, and made sure to tack your little girl’s name on to ensure there were no loose ends.
” Fire burns hot in my belly. “They were delaying the hit, I lost my temper, I offered it up to anyone who could deliver. Past that, I don’t give a fuck. ”
“Can you find out?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Already asking me for favors, chief?”
My teeth are close to cracking from the pressure. “It’s important to Ella.”
A few seconds pass before he takes his phone out. He taps the screen and puts it on speaker.
“Where the fuck are you?” a male voice says. “Denver is screaming at the mayor.”
“Let her. Who cashed in the Asher Flynn hit?”
“No one.”
I frown, but Ranger remains expressionless. “Do we know who carried it out?”
“Yeah, but only because he called me after it, drunk and saying it was all my fault, as if I told him to fucking do it,” the man says.
“Who?” I ask, unable to wait.
The man on the phone pauses. “Who’s that?”
Ranger sighs. “Just answer him, Cal.”
Cal says, “Hunter DeLuca.”