Page 37 of Lost Hope

His usually immaculate chinos were wrinkled, his left hand curled like it did when his old shooting injury acted up. But his eyes were sharp as ever as they swept over her, then locked onto Ronan with laser focus.

“Baby girl,” he said softly, using the nickname she’d outgrown decades ago. “Want to tell me why you’re running with this crowd?”

Ronan tensed beside her.

“Who are you?” Her dad’s voice held the edge she recognized from interrogation rooms. “And how did you get my daughter into this mess?”

“Dad—”

“It’s a long story, sir.” Ronan’s voice remained steady, professional despite the hostility. “One we should discuss somewhere secure. Right now, we need to move.”

“They killed Tom.” Maya’s voice caught on her partner’s name. “And probably the victim Tom and I were called out to question.” She swallowed hard. “And now they’re after you.”

Her father’s expression flickered—too brief for anyone else to catch, but she had thirty-four years of practice reading Lawrence Chen’s micro-expressions. Fear. Not for himself.

“You need to walk away from this, Maya. No matter what your partner might have been involved in.” He shifted his weight, and she recognized his tell. He was about to disappear into the shadows again. “Forget you found me. Go back to?—”

“That’s not happening.” The steel in her voice surprised even her. “Those men at your condo weren’t amateurs, Dad. Russian weapons, tactical gear?—”

“Which is exactly why you need to?—”

“Tom wasn’t dirty.” The words came out raw. “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But our victim, Marcus Sullivan, was onto something big enough to kill for. To destroy my life for. And now I think they’re going after you to get to me.”

Her father went still. That dangerous stillness she remembered from stakeouts, from moments before everything exploded into action. His gaze shifted back to Ronan, reassessing.

“Are you really military?”

“Former SEAL.” Ronan kept his tone neutral. “And I brought help. Operatives with Knight Tactical Protection. All former special forces. They’re a professional team with a secure facility and plenty of resources. And they have a common interest in finding out who’s behind this.”

“Common interest?” Her father’s laugh held no humor. “Son, you have no idea what you’re stepping into.”

Maya fought back a hard eye roll. “Like you do? Tell me why you’re out here alone instead of utilizing department resources.”

The silence stretched. She watched her father’s face, seeing the war between his instinct to protect her and his need for help. She knew that war intimately—had fought it herself every time she’d had to choose between procedure and what was right.

“This Knight Tactical team,” her dad asked Ronan sharply, “they any good?”

“We’re still alive.” Ronan kept it simple.

Her father nodded once, a decade of street cop instinct weighing their options. Then he looked at Maya, and for the first time she saw real fear in his eyes. “You sure about this?”

“You raised me to finish what I start.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Yeah. Sometimes I think I did too good a job.” The smile faded. “But baby girl, you’ve been federal for all of three months. I’ve dealt with these alphabet agencies for thirty years. When the feds get involved ...” He shook his head. “You better know what you’re getting us into. Because once we start down this road, there’s no turning back.”

“Yeah, about that.” Ronan interrupted. “We need to hit it.”

Then Dad was moving, that familiar purposeful stride that meant decisions had been made.

The small group moved fast and tight through the shadows, Maya hyperaware of her father analyzing every movement, every formation position. Ronan took point while Axel materialized from the darkness to cover their six. Her father’s eyebrows rose slightly at their silent efficiency.

Two black SUVs idled in the adjacent alley, engines purring with quiet German engineering.

“Thirty seconds,” Star warned through comms. “Bogey vehicle approaching from the north.”

Christian stood ready at the lead vehicle’s passenger door. “Lieutenant Chen.” His nod was respectful but urgent.“Welcome to the party. Maya, you’re with your father in the lead car. Ronan, Axel?—”

“Second vehicle,” Ronan finished, already moving.

---