Page 91 of Loco

I didn’t flinch, Iwouldn’tgive him that, but inside, I was burning. Because now it wasn’t just about surviving, it was about making sure these bastardspaid.

My heart was hammering, but I didn’t let it show. I kept my eyes on the mayor, even as every protective instinct flared like wildfire at how he looked at the kids. I took a small step forward to put myself squarely between them and those two monsters.

“You don’t need to involve the kids,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave them out of it.”

Russo’s eyes slid to me with something like amusement. “I don’t doubt that,” he replied smoothly, folding his hands in front of him like he was giving a lecture, not holding people’s lives in his hands. “But let’s be clear—you, on your own, aren’t of much use to us. Not without Roque, the sheriff, or the rest of his little band of moral crusaders.”

He tilted his head slightly, almost curious. “So, if Roque doesn’t cooperate and doesn’t do exactly what we tell him, then keeping you and those kids around becomes a liability.” His voice dropped, colder now. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

The threat was clear.

I swallowed hard and nodded once. “I understand.”

“Good,” the mayor cut in, too quickly, like he’d been waiting for me to say it. “Then we’re all on the same page.”

He smiled again, and it made my skin crawl. “When we bring a phone down to you in a little while, you’ll tell Roque exactly what we say. You’re going to tell him to do what we ask, to fall in line, and to stop playing hero.”

He took a step forward, not enough to close the distance, but just enough to press the words in deeper. “Because your safety—and theirs—depends on it.”

I didn’t need to respond. They thought they’d cornered me, that fear would make me obedient, but they didn’t understand who they were dealing with or provoking.

My thoughts had shifted entirely, rooted in the one person I knew would never stop, falter, or walk away from this fight. Roque. He was out there somewhere, probably already tearing through every lead, burning through every lie, and closing in with that relentless drive that made him the man he was. They’d made the mistake of touching what mattered to him. And while they stood there gloating, thinking they were in control, all I could think about was the storm building beyond these walls—one with Roque at the center of it. And when it hit, nothing they’d built would survive.

Judd

I was damn glad Roque was level-headed. With Sayla and the kids in the hands of monsters, anyone else might’ve lost it and charged in without a second thought. Hell,Iwanted to ignore Kapono’s message and go full throttle into that building. But Roque hadn’t moved an inch, even though I could see it in him—the fury simmering beneath the surface and the restraint pulling at every muscle. His knuckles were white around the wheel, and his jaw locked so tight it looked like it might snap.

But he listened.

Because he knew Kapono wasn’t being cautious—he was being clever. Charging in would corner whoever was inside, and people like that didn’t respond well to pressure. You push them too hard, back them into a corner, and they’ll use whatever leverage they have left. And right now, that leverage was Sayla and those kids. But if Kapono could remove them from the equation without setting off alarm bells, those bastards would be left holding nothing. Game over.

I glanced at Roque again. He was the kind of quiet that only came from a man holding himself together with sheer will.

I thought about Cyn, Ned’s daughter, and her boy, Wick. We weren’t together, and she probably hated me more often than not, but if someone laid a hand on either of them, I’d burn the goddamn state to the ground to get them back.

So yeah, I understood the silence, the stillness, and what it was costing Roque to sit there and wait.

My mind drifted, just for a moment, to the building I’d looked at last week, a dusty old corner spot that I’d been thinking of turning into a bar—a real one. No bullshit, just good drinks, good people, and a jukebox that played music thatmeantsomething. I hadn’t said anything yet because part of me was still clinging to the job and the badge, even with all the filth we were uncovering.

But after tonight, this case, the dirt in our department, and the things we werejust nowdragging into the light. Yeah, this was it for me. I was done.

I was going to walk away from the force and into something honest that belonged to me.

Roque still hadn’t said a word. He just stared straight ahead like he could will the walls around Sayla and those kids to collapse with focus alone. I figured it was time to break the silence and maybe remind him there was life after this.

“So,” I began, glancing sideways at him and trying to cut through the silence that had stretched tight between us, “were you serious about buying into the bar if I go for it?”

Roque didn’t move. His hands stayed locked on the wheel, knuckles pale under strain, but his voice came low and steady like it always did when he meant something. “I’ve already quit the department,” he ground out. “I just haven’t turned in the paperwork yet.”

That caught me off guard for a second—not that he was walking away, but that he’d made the choice conclusively and hadn’t said a word. Still, it wasn’t a shock. The job had been grinding him down for a while now, the same as it had been doing to the rest of us. And after everything with Sayla and the kids, it made sense that he’d had enough. We all had.

“You thinking about opening it for real?” I asked, pressing just a little, needing to hear it out loud. Not just because I wanted to know if I’d have a partner but because we both needed something solid to aim for on the other side of all this. A future we could build ourselves.

Roque finally turned his head just enough to meet my eyes. He looked exhausted—bone-deep tired—but a steadiness was behind that weariness, something anchored and certain. “If it gets me out of the force and helps me provide for my family, I’d give you my left arm to make it happen.”

I stared at him for a second, then nodded once, firm and final. We both turned back to the windshield, silence stretching again—but this time, it felt different—not as heavy and uncertain.

Roque exhaled slowly like the weight of everything he hadn’t said was pressing down on his ribs. His hands flexed on the wheel, then stilled again. “Before we walk away,” he said quietly, voice low and hard, “we’re going to clean out that goddamn department. Every last one of them. Every crooked cop thatturned a blind eye or sold someone out—every bastard who let this happen. They’re going down, all of them.”

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