Page 71 of Loco

The men, especially the ones in law enforcement, looked relaxed at a glance, but there was somethingunderneath—a quiet tension, an alertness that lingered in the corners of their eyes. They were smiling, sure, but every single one of them knew exactly where the exits were and had their heads on a swivel.

Roque had that same look, even while holding Kaida. Like he was cataloging every person, every movement, every shadow. He didn’t have to say anything, I could feel it from across the yard.

Then Hurst Townsend strolled in, wearing a button-down so crisp it looked like it ironed itself. And beside him was someone I hadn’t expected: Ned Dahl, the Governor himself. He smiled wide and waved like this was just another neighborhood cookout, which it kinda was for him by this point. Within minutes, both men sat down at the face-painting station, insisting on getting matching dinosaur designs for the birthday boy. The poor artist looked equal parts amused and terrified.

The rest of us werehowlingwith laughter.

And then Ned’s grandson, Wick—a curly-haired bundle of energy—ran up with two lopsided cupcakes, frosting oozing off the sides. He proudly handed them over to Hurst and Ned with all the ceremony of a Michelin-starred chef, and I swear, my heart just melted watching them both accept the cupcakes like they were made of gold.

Tabby leaned in beside me, her voice low. “DB’s not relaxed.”

I glanced toward him. She was right—his stance, the way he kept checking over his shoulder, gave away how alert and tense he was.

I frowned. “Roque isn’t either.”

We shared a look, both of us wondering the same thing. What the hell was going on? And why did it feel like they were waiting for something?

Just as Tabby and I exchanged a look, Heidi came through the back door carrying what could only be described asthe centerpiece of the entire day.

The cake.

And just like that, every kid within a five-mile radius stopped what they were doing, like someone had flipped a sugar-sensing switch in their brains. Even the face-painting table cleared out in seconds.

Kaida, who had been completely limp and snuggled in Roque’s arms, snapped awake like someone had hit a button.

I laughed under my breath. “She’s got a cake radar. It’s uncanny.”

Roque chuckled as she lifted her head and blinked around, immediately perking up at the sight of the four-tiered masterpiece Heidi was balancing with the focus of a brain surgeon.

It was stunning—deep red and black layered in sleek tiers, with curled dark chocolate edges that looked like racing stripes. White chocolate was artfully drizzled down each side, glossy and smooth. It almost looked too good to eat.

Kairo’s eyes were wide as saucers, his mouth slightly open in awe.

He’d told me his favorite color was red and his favorite flavor was chocolate—obviously—so I’d gotten Heidi to make a cake that’d blow his mind. Inside, the cake was a red velvet sponge dyed just enough to get that rich color without staining teeth, layered with silky chocolate frosting. Heidi had outdone herself again.

Candles dotted the outer edges of the tiers—way too many for a three-year-old, but that wasn’t the point. The point was the giant red and white candle shaped like the number 3 that sat proudly on the top, surrounded by three fountain candles ready to turn the entire scene into a mini fireworks show.

The kids gathered in a loose semi-circle, chanting Kairo’s name like he was some tiny celebrity about to perform.

Heidi nodded at me, and I lit the candles one by one, then finally the fountains. They hissed to life, golden sparks shooting up with a soft crackle, and Kairo grinned so big I thought his face might split in two.

“Make a wish, birthday boy,” I said, kneeling beside him.

He nodded solemnly, took a deep breath, and just as he leaned in to blow?—

BANG!

It wasn’t huge, but it was loud enough to send every adult's instincts into high gear. Roque immediately twisted, shielding Kaida with his body while I shielded Kairo with mine, and DB stepped in front of two toddlers by the coloring table. Judd and Keir both went into a low crouch, hands subtly brushing theirwaists, where Iknewthey kept their weapons holstered even off-duty.

For a beat, no one moved.

Then we all turned toward the source of the noise—just in time to see a cluster of balloons drifting upward. Some had popped and shredded, but the rest were still tugging free.

Roque stood slowly, releasing a breath, and offered a sheepish half-grin to the crowd. “Balloon casualties.”

A ripple of laughter followed, nervous at first, then easing as the tension melted.

Kairo, unfazed, blew out the candles with one long breath, fists clenched in triumph.

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