Page 79 of Rescued by the Single Dad

It rang six times before the answering machine kicked in—yes, he still had an answering machine.

“Hey, Brooke, it’s me. You can pick up if you’re close to the phone.”

He paused for a moment.

“Or I can call back.”

Another ten seconds passed, and he was about to hang up when an out of breath, “Hello!” burst through the other end. “Clint? Sorry, I had to run to the phone.”

“You shouldn’t be running.”

“I didn’t ... not really. I butt shuffled, but I did it really fast. Where are you? Do you have Rocco with you?”

He glanced up at the screen with all the flights listed. The one Rocco was on had just landed. “I don’t have him yet. His plane just landed. But I’m at the airport.”

She exhaled a loud sigh. “I can’t wait to see him. When do you think you’ll be home?”

Even though it was his home that she was talking about, it felt oddly terrific hearing it from her in that way. Like it was her home, too. Because for the moment, it was. He liked the sound of it. He more than liked it.

“Well, if he’s not too tired, I think we’ll go to the police station and he can see if they have any information, then we’ll head to the ferry. I can call you again when we’re in the line.”

“Okay ...” she didn’t sound confident. What wasn’t she confident in?

“What’s wrong?”

“Just ... um ... Don’t be surprised if the police are useless, okay? I know Rocco won’t be. But I honestly doubt they’re even still looking for me, let alone the person who tried to kill me.”

What a weird thing to say. “Why do you say that?”

“Just ... it doesn’t matter. Just don’t be surprised, okay?”

“Okay ...”

She hid something. A distrust in cops. she’d displayed that early on. The moment she woke up after he found her and he suggested going to the police, she’d been adamant about not involving them. Then there was that email exchange between her and her brother about being raised by an asshole.

Had her dad been a cop?

A dirty cop, maybe?

He didn’t want to push her for answers, but maybe some one-on-one time with Rocco would give him the answers he needed without having to unearth any unnecessary trauma for Brooke. Because one way or another, the police would have to get involved.

He and Rocco couldn’t go full Batman vigilante with this kind of thing and operate outside the letter of the law. First of all, that was dangerous as fuck, and he had a kid at home he needed to think about; and second of all, he didn’t even know where to begin when it came to being a vigilante.

He was a marine and used to following orders. Used to following protocol and operating in the best interest of his team and the task. But not even being a marine had prepared him for trying to uncover a wanna-be murderer. His detective show obsession did more for him in that department.

But this was real life. Big fucking difference.

“Can you call me when you have Rocco?” she asked. “I want to hear his voice.”

“Of course. I’m sure he’ll be eager to hear your voice, too.”

“Thank you for doing this, Clint. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A sharp pinch in his chest made him suck in a quick breath. “Well, good thing you don’t have to worry about that,” he said jovially. “I’ll call you once I have your brother.”

“Thank you.”

Then they said goodbye and disconnected the call.

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