Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
When I return to the car, January is curled up in the passenger seat, sleeping. Her nose is red, and her eyes are swollen from crying, but she still looks like my little doll. She will always be my little doll.
I lean over the console to kiss her tenderly on the forehead and then fasten her seatbelt around her before heading back toward home. When I pull up in her driveway half an hour later, she's still passed out. Roman's truck is idling on the curb. He hops out to meet me when I cut the engine.
"What's up, Sasquatch?" I ask him, climbing out.
He flips me the bird and then grins so wide it damn near splits his cheeks. "You ready to come to work for the ATF, fucker?" he asks, reaching out to bump my fist when I prop myself up on the back of the car and shove the keys into my pocket.
I cock my head to the side and arch a brow. "Administrative leave, dude. That means my ass isn't going anywhere until the DEA decides what to do with me."
Basically, until I'm either charged or the case is closed, I'm twisting in the wind. Not that it's stopped me from getting shit done or anything. Now that Kaleo is gone, I've got nothing but time on my hands. The way I see it, Los Angeles needs me just as much, if not more, than Seattle does. Especially with a cartel war festering.
I may not be the monster I've always thought I was, but I'm still pretty fucking scary to those assholes. And I don't need a badge to take care of business when I've got guys like Roman and Santiago in my corner. So I'm doing what needs to be done. The rest will sort itself out eventually.
Roman's grin widens, and he chuckles before clamping a massive hand down on my shoulder. "LAPD cleared you as a suspect about an hour ago, man. You're free."
"I'm…What?" I stumble as shock courses through me, weakening my knees.
"The only prints on the gun were Curtis Kaleo's. Ballistics testing matched that gun to the murders of Adcock, Adams, and Cortez," Roman says softly. "You're free, Michael. Hernandez cleared you as a suspect and officially closed the case since their only remaining suspect is dead. It's over."
"Fuck," I mumble, trying to work moisture back into my mouth. "You're serious."
Roman nods. "The only thing left for you to do is celebrate with your girl and then sign your hire paperwork with Finn Bethel," he says, grinning. "You're free and clear."
"But…"
His dark brows fly upward. "Don't fall on the sword, Kincaid. This city needs you. Whether you think you deserve it or not, you're a cop. You're one of the best gang cops I've ever met, and I don't say that lightly. Guys like Leyva respect you enough to play by the rules you set, and guys like Fuentes need someone around who's willing to put a boot to their neck and keep them in line when they don't. If you think you've still got some penance to pay, work it out in the streets because that's where we need you, not locked up in a cell."
"He's right," January says from behind me.
I spin around to find her standing by the passenger side of the car, the door open. She looks so sweet and rumpled as she smiles at me. My cock turns to steel, and my heart crashes against my ribcage.
She strides toward us, not sparing a second glance at Roman. Her bright eyes stay locked on mine until she's right in front of me, pushing her way into my arms like she always does. And I fucking love that shit…love that she wants to be in them as much as I want her in them.
"You're a good cop, Cade," she whispers. "People like Titan need you to keep being a good cop. We need you to fight for us because there is no one else like you out there to do it."
Fuck. I can't tell her no, not when she says stuff like that. Because she's right. Maybe I don't deserve a badge or the right to call myself a cop, but people like Titan need motherfuckers like me fighting the good fight. Regardless of how I came to the job, I'm good at it. And if that doesn't count for something…well, I guess God can sort that shit out later. If he wants to cast me into hell for the choices I made back then, so be it.
I kind of have a feeling he won't, though. I asked Titan for a sign. I'm guessing the big fucker came through for me. This is my sign. This is the blessing I needed. This is my shot at salvation…my chance to keep my girl at my side until the day I die.