Page 69 of Loco

“Not yet,” he whispered, his eyes flashing. “But I will.”

I nodded, taking Kaida’s hand as she clung to my leg. “We’ll be fine here. Go do what you need to.”

He leaned in close and kissed my cheek gently. “Thanks.”

I watched him go, heart hammering, one arm around each kid. Whoever was out there was getting bolder, but they had no idea who they were messing with.

Roque

As soon as I pulled away from the salon, I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Leaving the kids was never easy, not with everything going on, but I trusted Sayla more than I trusted anyone, really. She had a calmness about her that wrapped around people and made them feel safe—even when the world outside was spinning out of control. And itwasspinning.

We’d finally nailed another one from the photos called Simon Cliffe. He was the idiot who’d tried to break into the daycare. In all honesty, we’d gotten lucky—stupidly lucky. One of the staff, a fifty-six-year-old woman named Brenda, saw him fiddling with a window and didn’t even hesitate. She’d tackled him straight to the ground like she’d spent her Sundays watching pro wrestling and taking notes. By the time we’d gotten there, she was sitting on his bony ass, drinking from her thermos like this was just any other day.

Cliffe couldn’t have weighed more than one-twenty soaking wet. He stank like a mix of stale beer, unwashed clothes, and week-old regret and had a greasy ball cap pulled down low over his face. At first glance, he looked more like a drifter than someone involved in something organized, but then we’d searched him.

Handcuffs. A taser. Pepper spray.

You don’t carry that kind of gear if you’re just loitering, and you sure as hell don’t bring it to a daycare unless you have the worst intentions.

He was high, of course. His eyes were twitching, his speech was slurred, and he couldn’t remember his last name half the time. But the moment we cuffed him and got him upright, I saw something cold flash behind all that mess—like heknewwhat he was doing. Like it wasn’t random.

We’d caught him before anything happened, thank God. But it was a gut punch just the same. I’d already been on edge about the kids, about Sayla’s window, and about Nolan singing damn lullabies like we were in some twisted fairytale. Now this.

They were escalating, and I was done waiting to see what they would do next. It was time to push back hard.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind—Simon Cliffe had been there for Kairo and Kaida.

It was my kids who’d been photographed by those assholes. My kids they’d tried to get close to.

Just in case, we warned every parent from the daycare. Quietly with no panic and no headlines. Just a firm heads-up and instructions to keep their eyes open and routines tight. I also had one of my most trusted uniforms posted discreetly outsideDelicious Divas—Sayla’s place. He was going to watch the storefront and the side alley. Anywhere someone might getideas. He’d rotate with another guy I trusted when his shift ended, but someone would be close either way. I wasn’t leaving anything to chance again.

I was driving toward the station, already going over the little we knew about Cliffe in my head, when my phone buzzed.

“Yeah?”

“Get here, now,” Keir ordered. His voice was sharp, urgent. “You need to see what was in this guy’s car.”

That sent a chill through me. I hung up and floored it the rest of the way, blowing through a yellow light and barely stopping before the parking lot. The second I got inside, I followed the murmur of voices to the evidence room, where half the team was standing around a metal table.

I pushed in—and stopped cold.

It wasn’t just the stash of drugs and cash I’d expected, though that was there. Plastic-wrapped packets, crumpled bills, and a ziplock bag of loose pills and powder scattered the table. But that wasn’t what made my stomach twist.

It was the other stuff.

A roll of duct tape, strips of torn fabric, two more cans of pepper spray, another pair of handcuffs, a bottle of ketamine, needles, syringes, and keys—way too many keys. Who the hell actually neededthismany keys?

Whatever Cliffe had been planning, it wasn’t just a snatch-and-run. This was preparation and intent. It was something vile.

Ketamine was dangerous enough in the wrong hands. But used on a child, it was beyond reckless and a death sentence waiting to happen. Too much, and they’d go under and never come back.

I stared at the table, every muscle in my body drawn tight, fists clenching without realizing it. This wasn’t just about a drug ring or some petty criminal trying to scare us off. It was about control, power, and exploitation.

And they’d comethis closeto getting their hands on my kids. There was not a chance in hell I was letting that happen.

Chapter 22

Sayla

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