Page 250 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“Here’s the CCTV footage. Two little fuckers are clear as day, but I don’t think it’s going to do us much good.”
As the slightly grainy, black-and-white video rolls, I see what he means. The two figures who approach the shop are covered from head to toe. Black ski masks, sweatshirts, sweatpants, even their boots. I can see that they’re white from their hands and the small amount of skin showing around their eyes. At a guess, they’re male by their builds, but they could be very buff women.
“Wait,” Brenna breathes. “Go back.”
Logan taps the tablet to back up the video. Bren leans over and peers at the grainy image.
“That motherfucker,” she hisses. She pauses the video and enlarges the image, but it dissolves into black and white splotches. “It’s hard to see but I’m pretty sure it’s the same skinhead from the other day. PatriotWarrior, the fucker who put the one-star review on Google. He had ‘move on’ tattooed on his knuckles. It’s hard to see but I think it’s him.”
“Good spot,” Logan says. “Also, language in front of my little.”
Brenna screws up her face at him. “You just said fucker.”
“Don’t set a bad example for my baby girl. Mac’ll smack your ass.”
I nod. “I will.”
Brenna rolls her eyes.
“Oh, that just bought you pain,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes again.
“So much pain.”
“I hate both of you,” she says. “How do we find this guy?”
“First, we report it to the cops,” Logan says. “Then, I ask Max if he can find a physical address for PatriotWarrior from the Google post he took down.”
It probably says a great deal about my experiences in the Navy that I have more faith in Max than I do the police. “D’you think a little fear will help or hurt the situation?” I ask.
“What do you mean by ‘a little fear’?” Logan asks. “Are we talking nitro in the head levels of fear or reactor scram levels of fear?”
I chuckle, remembering those respective pranks. “Let’s start with nitro. We mockup an image of the dickhead’s tattoo and plaster it all over the neighborhood on ‘have you seen this tattoo?’ posters. Bet that gets him shitting bricks.”
Logan’s grin is a fearsome thing. “Bren, can you draw a picture of the tattoo and email it to me? I’ll get the posters done this afternoon and Mac and I’ll canvass the neighborhood tomorrow.”
Her echoing grin sends a rush of blood to my dick. “I can do that, sir.”
“Good. You want me to call Theo before I go?”
Her smile fades. “Theo?”
“He’ll pay more attention to this than some random beat cop the desk sergeant assigns your call to. Besides, he owes me one,” Logan says.
I make a mental note to ask Logan later why Theo owes him. And Brenna’s sour expression doesn’t escape my notice. She might have been happy to have Theo top her, but she’s not at all happy about dealing with him in an official capacity. Since he surely has more to lose than she does if their club connection comes to light, her reluctance makes my curiosity bone twitch.
“Okay. I’ll work on that sketch and get it to you by the end of my lunch break.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Thank you, sir.”
Logan nods as he pulls out his phone.
While he makes his call, I cock my finger at Brenna and when she moves toward me, I take her hand and lead her out into the hallway, closing the door behind us.
“I don’t like that a skinhead has it out for you, sweetheart,” I say, brushing her cheek with my knuckles. “Can I convince you to stay at Logan’s for the foreseeable future?”
She leans into me but wrinkles her chin. “I like my own space, sir.”
“Can I wangle an invite into your space? I’m hoping he’s just a punk who was pissed off you wouldn’t do that swastika, but if he’s actually Aryan Nation, those are some very bad guys. I don’t want you to be alone.”
