Page 19 of Born Daddy

Chapter Six

Rogan sat behind his desk in his office at the Academy, working on a Power Point presentation for a class the following week. A new eight-week course had just been added to his schedule, a deeper dive into a subject he’d already been teaching for the past couple of years. The course had a limited enrollment, since most of his regular roster of students wouldn’t get assigned to deep undercover cases. The ones enrolled had been identified by their superiors as likely candidates for that type of career.

Unattached. No kids. Willing to leave everything behind.

In other words, where Rogan had been almost twenty years before. Now, here he was, and nothing had changed. He raked his fingers through his thick hair with a sigh, leaning back in the chair and wondering how the time could’ve passed so quickly. His acceptance into undercover training school stood out in his mind, the memory of his excitement over being one of the chosen still sharp in his mind.

When he’d announced his new career direction to his family at a Sunday gathering, the response had been decidedly mixed. His father had been proud, his closest brother, Seb, even prouder. His remaining siblings, Gerry and Kathy, had been appropriately congratulatory, each of them lost in their own phases of life’s journey. Then there had been his mother.

Rogan still recalled with a measure of guilt how upset she’d been. It had taken his father consoling her for over an hour after she’d run from the room in tears, before she’d been able to face Rogan and say she was proud. That hadn’t stopped her from begging for him to reconsider, however. In his youth, he hadn’t appreciated the true danger of the task he’d taken on. Instead, he’d patted her back with what he now realized was a certain amount of condescension, and laughed off her concerns.

Over the next couple of decades, several ER visits and one three-day, caught-in-the-crossfire hospital stay, Rogan had finally understood what he’d been putting his mother through for all those years. No, he didn’t have kids or a partner, but he had a loving family he’d always been close to and a mother who adored him.

Rogan tapped a pen against the edge of the glass-topped desk as he wrestled with the unexpected onslaught of maudlin reminiscing. Undoubtedly, his emotional upheaval was related to the recent events in his life. On the one hand, his insides had been torn apart by the discovery of Cam’s treachery. On the other, he found himself bizarrely grateful to now have Tate in his life.

Rogan swallowed hard, letting the pen fall to the floor as he clasped his fingers together then tucked them under his chin. He fell forward, his elbows propping him up as his heart raced, unable to discern whether the pounding was from fear or elation. An array of feelings assailed him, and he wondered if perhaps he was on the verge of falling apart.

He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop ever since he’d received the news of Cam’s death. When he’d ended his career as a street cop, the decision hadn’t been as altruistic as he’d indicated to his commander or fellow officers.

The truth was, he was lonely.

Rogan scrubbed his face then ran a hand across the top of his head. The discomfort from allowing thoughts of Tate drift through his mind, while pondering his loneliness, didn’t sit well with him. His pull toward Tate couldn’t be romantic—that was ridiculous under the circumstances. No, he’d always been a protective man with everyone in his life. The compulsion to take care of Tate was borne from his own need to safeguard, nothing else.

His cell buzzed, vibrating against the glass of his desk. He glanced in the direction of his phone, snatching it up immediately when he saw Tate’s name on the caller ID.

“Is everything okay?”

Rogan’s heart skipped. He’d insisted that Tate call whenever he needed anything, so it didn’t necessarily mean something was wrong. Perhaps Tate was simply feeling alone, too.

“No, no it’s not. I’m really sorry to bug you again so soon, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

Rogan detected Tate’s barely concealed attempt at staying calm in his measured voice.

“No need to apologize, Tate. My offer was genuine. Take a breath and tell me what’s going on.”

“Are you in the middle of work? I can totally call back later. I’m at home now with the doors locked.”

Rogan straightened in his chair. “What? Call 911 right now, and I’m on my way.”

“Wait!”

Rogan was already on his feet. “No. If you’re in danger, you don’t wait.”

“I need… I called because I’m not sure if I am and I wanted your advice because you know about these kinds of things. I might be overreacting.” Tate let out a heavy sigh. “And I already spoke with the cops and they don’t give a shit. If I call 911, I’m sure all that will accomplish is I’ll get into even more trouble than I’m already in.”

Fuck. “Then at least let me come over. I’ll be on edge the whole time we’re talking otherwise.”

“Oh man…” Tate had spoken under his breath. “I’m such a pain in the ass.”

Rogan rubbed his forehead, holding in a relieved chuckle. The thread of panic he’d picked up in the tone of Tate’s voice had lessened. Rogan’s fevered imagination had sparked scenarios where Tate was cowering in a closet as any number of evils were trying to bust through his apartment door.

“No. You’re not. I was wrapping up things here anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

Tate’s almost childlike voice made Rogan’s heart skip again. Something else, something deeper, warned Rogan to proceed with caution, but he’d worry about it later. Right now, Tate needed him.

“Yes, Tate. I’m sure.”

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