Page 4 of Concealed

The gangbangers refused to surrender and took shots at me. With pinpoint precision, while taking cover behind my truck and the brick walls of the surrounding buildings, that’s exactly what I did.

Anything.

Whatever it took.

Adrenaline filled me, but I was oddly calm because panic would have meant death – for me and the kid. My breathing regulated, and I just did what needed to be done.

The margin for error was zero. I took them all down without leaving the risk of being shot in the back when I retreated.

I had to react so fast. There wasn’t time to be scared, process what was happening, or think about the insanity of what I jumped into without backup.

But I don’t say any of that to Grant.

“Yup, that’s all,” I confirm. “And no one called Internal Affairs on me even though the gangbangers were all dead when I carried that sobbing little boy back to my truck.”

His mother was turning a trick and left him home alone. He woke up and decided to leave the apartment to look for her. He ended up in the middle of a turf war where collateral damage wasn’t a consideration, even if that damage happened to be four years old.

“That situation was different than how you handled Ed Waters,” Grant notes.

The name alone still sets my blood boiling. Even though what I did ended my career as I know it, there’s no way I’d take back crushing his face under my fists.

“Pedos are no better than gangbangers.”

“No,” Grant agrees, “but it’s not your call to bring justice without the court system, or to use force when it’s not necessary. He surrendered, and you decided that wasn’t enough. Do you know what that tells me? You need to learn to play by the rules – fast.”

More deep breathing.

The meditation app on my phone promises it will change my life if I stick with it. After eight days, it mostly seems like bullshit. But I’ll give it some more time to rewire my brain and hopefully save my badge.

I nod instead of telling Grant what I think about some of the rules and red tape that too often cripple us. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I’ll stay under the radar. You have my word.”

“I believe you’re a good cop, and I can help if you’re willing to learn. That’s why I hired you. Not because of your dad.”

I’m not sure if I believe him, but if he can give me the benefit of the doubt, then I can do the same for him.

“Thank you, sir. I’m willing, and I appreciate it.”

It’s not like I have a choice, but I’m also smart enough to – finally – realize that if I want a career in law enforcement, then I need to do a better job at coloring in the lines.

There are certain times the public is good with the boys in blue using their guns and fists and other times they aren’t. If a man like Grant wants to guide me and keep me out of the doghouse, then I’m all for it.

Grant’s family is legendary. His dad was the Chief of Police, one of his brothers is a rescue pilot, and the other is a firefighter.

The men in his family all protect and serve, and from the stories I’ve heard, they’re solid, honest, and hardworking, which isn’t always the case when you mix power with rank.

Armchair quarterback is an easy role to play, and because we’re government employees, the court of public opinion holds an annoying amount of weight.

It’s a double standard that I risked my life to save a kid from gang violence and was commended, and then did the same to save a kid from a pedophile and apparently took it too far.

The gang members are dead.

Ed Waters still breathes.

But I need to let it go.

I’m in Sunnyville now, and there’s something about Grant Malone and the trust in his eyes that makes me not want to let him down.

After a long shift trying to familiarize myself with my new normal, I’m finally able to check my personal phone as I’m getting into the truck.

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