Page 46 of The Lost Empress

“Well, in our world, simply knowing how to interact is confusing, so this boils it down,” Jack explained. “Imagine a police officer in Los Angeles who starts a community sports league where officers and locals team up to play basketball every Saturday. This serves as more than just recreation—it builds mutual respect and trust between the police and the community. Through regular games, officers are not just seen as enforcers of the law but as fun guys. This shows how the police can prevent crime by fostering a cooperative relationship with the public, ensuring that policing is done with the community, not to the community.”

“Dang, and you say my head is about to explode,” Sully muttered, shaking his head. “That was pure poetry, dawg! Like, ‘policing is done with the community, not to the community.’ That was beautiful. I got choked up.”

“I’m about to choke you,” Jack shot back, shaking his head before glancing back at Gen. “It is a simple principle, but it’s also effective. I mean, look at us as Rogue Riders. Many of us unknowingly use the Peelian Principle, having a camaraderie with our community of criminals. They respect us and we try to treat them fairly. But it can go too far, like if they start thinking that we’re all friends and they can get away with murder…quite literally. I don’t tolerate that kind of thing.”

“No way,” Sully agreed. “Unfortunately, the police in Los Angeles haven’t taken a page out of our book. They either have zero relationship with the community or they are seen as bullies. Something is definitely sketchy about the force presently.”

Jack agreed, a worried look in his eyes.

Gen opened her mouth, wanting to say something. Wanting to share her secret about the good police officers she was employing to investigate what was happening in the city. But she hesitated, not knowing if she could really trust these guys not to go to Dwayne with the information.

If he found out what she was doing before she had any evidence, then he’d shut it down. Something told her that her boss would stop her, anyway. Hiker Wallace had encouraged Gen to investigate and then share the information with the leader of the Rogue Riders, but she didn’t know if that was a good idea.

Gen didn’t trust Dwayne Stone. He knew who had murdered the old Commissioner of Los Angeles and said that he couldn’t say who it was because he was playing a political game. But what if he was playing an even more dangerous and corrupt game with the city? What if he was behind whatever was going on?

Gen had no evidence of this and only knew that she didn’t like Dwayne. She couldn’t allow that to color her judgement though, so for now, she’d just stay quiet and pay attention. But still, her instinct told her that she could trust Sully and especially Jack.

She was about to question them on what they knew about what was happening in the city with law enforcement, but right then, they were interrupted by a rough-looking guy with a fierceness in his eyes. He darted around the corner, sliding up against the brick wall, like running from an attack.

Gen tensed, ready to defend herself and her friends. However, Jack and Sully sighed with annoyance, not seeming on guard.

“There you are, Tesla,” Jack said, shaking his head. “You’re late.”

“I was being followed,” Tesla replied, pulling his gaze away from the street and stepping away from the wall. “Something isn’t right in this city and if that’s coming from me, then we’ve got big problems.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

TESLA’S TARDY TALES OF TROUBLE

Wilshire Boulevard, Los Angeles, California, United States

The tension heightened in Gen’s muscles as she took in the stress on Tesla’s face in front of them. However, Jack shook his head, not seeming worried. He gave a curt nod to Sully, soundlessly communicating to him. Taking the nonverbal command, Sully strode for the corner of the alleyway, his hand on his sword on his hip. He glanced down Wilshire Boulevard to the right, then to the left. When he turned around, he wore an annoyed expression on his face.

Jack sighed, seeming to gather that there was no immediate danger lurking on the street. He pursed his lips at the large man with thick black hair and a face full of piercings. Tesla wore a black leather jacket and jeans covered in grease. “So what’s going on, Drama Queen? What’s got you so uptight?”

Tesla, who was much bigger than Jack or Sully, groaned, shaking his head. “At first, I was having a field day. There were so many marks for me to rip off.”

“You mean big criminals that Sully and Jack approved for you to steal parts from?” Gen asked, needing to clarify so that she kept up.

Tesla halted, apparently seeing her for the first time, his nervousness a distraction before. He pointed at her, looking skeptically at Jack. “Who is that?”

“She’s not a that,” Jack corrected, protectively.

“He’s right,” Sully said, pushing his glasses up on his nose, snorting slightly with a chuckle. “The correct phrasing is, ‘Who is she?’”

Anger flared in Tesla’s eyes, but he seemed to think better than to mouth off to these guys. They commanded a level of respect that was impressive to Gen, maybe because they followed the Peelian Principle. “Well, who is she? I work with you guys and no one else. You know that.”

“She’s cool,” Jack offered. “This is Gen Beaufont, a new Rogue Rider who is training with us. We’re showing her the ropes.”

Tesla’s eyes widened with surprise. “Another Beaufont. Oh, hell, that is good news. We need some help.”

Jack held up his hand, pausing the guy who was getting himself worked up again. “Why don’t you start at the beginning, big boy. Tell us what’s going on.”

“Well, like I said, there was an influx in cars for me to strip,” Tesla began. “There were so many big crime bosses on the street overnight that my crew was quickly overworked. That was a good thing.”

“Where did they all come from, is my question,” Sully mused, continuing to check over his shoulder.

“Well, I should have been asking that question myself,” Tesla said in a terse whisper. “But I just saw that there were a ton of high-end vehicles driven by people on your approved list that I could strip. I mean, we had Ratty Socks, the guy who moves big drugs from Tijuana and then we had that big arms dealer, Lord Gregory’s brother, who doesn’t have a name. apparently. Oh, and there was the lady who smuggles deadly absinthe—Cheryl Shoemaker.”

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