Page 62 of Outlaws' Single Mom
“Listen, we're going for a little car ride first. I need to talk to some people. Maybe we can get donuts on the way home?” I'm not big on bribing him just for a trip out, but these are weird times, and they call for unusual methods.
“Donuts?” The gloom evaporates immediately, and he throws himself happily into the car seat.
The address isn't too far from the hospital. It’s across the street in a complex owned by Blackwell. The front faces the street, clearly marked as a forensic center, but the parking lot is around the back. It feels a little cramped and exposed, despite the security cameras on posts overlooking it. Everything is veryprofessional and well-marked though, so I take Logan's hand and bring him with me. He looks around curiously, clutching the plush helmet tight. It's not the kind of place that looks likely to have a play area while we wait.
I ask for Ken Hayes at the counter, and the lady in reception looks him up and calls him down. He's a stocky man, who looks about as emotionally shallow as he sounded on the phone. He waves us along and we follow him down a hallway. Down some stairs. Another hallway. This place is a maze once you get past the reception.
“Can we go home now?” Logan asks unhappily. Even the draw of a donut doesn't override the dreariness of office hallways. I get it.
“Pretty soon, Lo.” I squeeze his hand, and hope I'm right. There can only be so much maze here, right?
As if in response, Ken pauses in front of a door and opens it for us. “In here.”
The room is a loading dock. There's a man standing there, with his back to me. What the heck? “I don't understand, why are we…” I trail off when I see Ken with a gun out and pointing at us. “What's going on?”
The man turns, and the bottom falls out of my stomach. “Ms. Vale,” Officer Dillard—or Jay—says. “Step into the car, please.”
“Mommy?” Logan asks nervously, picking up on the vibe in the room. He grabs my leg with one hand and squeezes the helmet close with the other.
“Shh, Lo. It's going to be alright.”
I hope.
34
STIFF
“You seriously don't careif we gun the fucker down?” I raise a questioning eyebrow at Detective Chen who's behind cover with me, waiting for Dillard to show up. Out of an abundance of caution, Hellfire decided to share what we found out about Dillard to her after all, but not until she was here. From the fury when he told her, I think she suffers traitors about as much as we do, which is not at all.
“Yes, of course I do, but I’m not an idiot. I know you wouldn’t have set this up if you were going to let him live, and I’m not going to lose sleep over pond scum like him. Honestly, it’s less paperwork. You’re saving the city money.” Her voice is cold and even. She's a fucking hunter. I can appreciate that.
“Very pragmatic.”
Her lips twitch only for a moment. “Undercover work is always a little risky, especially long term assignments. In order to do their job well, they need to operate independently, but people aren’t built to lead false lives for years at a time. The sides always bleed into each other. I suspect he's been rogue for a while, and it’s going to take some time to pull on the threads and find how much he's involved in. Either way, he's a cop killer, so I really don't care if he turns up a casualty in this investigation.”
Lash chuckles. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“You started on my bad side,” she says, stone-faced.
Here at the top floor of the parking garage we arranged to meet at, the wind cuts through like it's made of glass shards. It's well away from both the clubhouse and the police station, as close to neutral ground as possible. Tons of pillars and barriers to hide behind, which we're making full use of. We have the spiral stairs that'll take us down to the first floor damn quick, where our bikes and Detective Chen's car are parked just out of sight. OnlyGrimm's out in the open, just past the top of the ramp and looking bored as fuck.
“He's late,” Hellfire grumbles. “I don't fucking like this.”
Jackal checks his watch. “We got him by balls. I'll be real surprised if he doesn't show.”
As if in response, a car turns into the first floor and my ear piece crackles with Sinner's voice, “Gray car just turned in and coming up. No visible passengers.” The engine noise echoes off the concrete as it starts winding its way up the floors. With every turn, the tires squeal a little.
It's showtime.
“Get ready,” I say to Grimm. He nods. The rest of us check our guns.
The top floor is almost empty, other than a couple of old junkers missing their plates and with red parking tickets under their windshield wipers. Guessing they're to be hauled out of here after someone abandoned them. Plenty of cars at the bottom, but no one drives all the way up if they don't have to. Gives us space, and time to mince that fucker and still get the hell out before any cavalrycomes. At least that's the fucking theory. With Sinner keeping an eye on the entrance, and Priest and Riot up on two different buildings keeping an eye on the area, this should hopefully go real smooth.
The car's coming up onto the floor below, slowing down now. All we need to do is hold our breaths and try not to make a peep until we're sure everything is how it should be. If I was Dillard, I wouldn't be coming up here without a backup plan, so it’s more likely a question of how this is going to get fucked up, not if.
I pull my gun. Not gonna let anything go wrong here.
The car pulls around the last turn, coming to a stop right in front of Grimm. I squint at it. Is it riding low?
