Page 89 of Clap Back (Carter Brothers)

I hadn’t realized how bad my attitude was every day when I went to work for Dallas PD. I hadn’t realized just how exhausting it was to be one hundred percent sick of people at the end of a shift. I hadn’t realized just how fucking nuts the people of Dallas were.

Until now.

“How did you like your first day?” my trainer—who had less on the job experience than me—asked.

Cable McMahon was a thirty-something-year-old, five-year veteran of the Sunnyvale Police Department. He’d been born and raised here, though he’d taken a ten-year stint in the Navy before settling back down again.

I liked him a lot, and I would definitely count him as a man to be respected.

“Other than the phone call saying my girl was heading to the police station, it went great,” I admitted.

“She’s in good hands there. Brooks is one of the best men I know,” he offered. “And he said he wouldn’t leave her side.”

He had said that.

That was four hours ago, and he’d given me regular updates on the situation.

I nodded, his words not making me feel much better.

When we arrived back at the station and made it inside, my gaze went straight to the conference room where Athena, my mom, Dad, Garrett, Chief Brooks, and the special agent, Jefferson Evador, were located.

The moment I saw Maven, my heart felt like it loosened in my chest.

I knew this day was going to be tough for her. I semi-hated myself for taking her advice and going to work. She’d assured me that she would be fine, but the paleness of her face, and the way her eyes were rimmed with red, let me know she was anything but.

I walked into the room, not sparing anyone a glance, and went straight to Maven.

She shot out of her chair upon seeing me, throwing her arms around my shoulders.

I picked her up and walked right out of the room with her.

Since I didn’t know the ins and outs of the station yet, I took her into the next room over, which also happened to be a conference room, though on a much larger scale.

I kicked the door closed with a foot, then slid down to the floor with her still in my arms.

Her silent tears started to leak down the length of my neck, under my shirt, and into my body armor.

I didn’t care.

“Shhh,” I whispered. “You’re okay.”

She sniffled against my neck and whispered, “They never stopped searching for me. That’s why they died. They were in a different country because they were following leads that their private investigator fed them.”

I squeezed her tighter and said, “You were loved, baby.”

She shivered. “I don’t even know who they are.”

I reached down and smoothed her hair back from her face, urging her to look at me.

She did, her eyes watery with tears.

Just the sight sent a pang of anger into my heart.

Goddamn Brock Austin.

I hoped he rotted in hell for what he’d done.

“You have siblings,” I whispered.

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