Laura Acton

May 29
Dan’s Apartment – 9:50 p.m.

     When his teammate Lexa McKenna asked to come in, Dan Broderick stepped back and opened the door wider. He had no idea what brought her by at this time of night, particularly with them needing to be at TRF HQ by five in the morning for workout. He studied her as she entered, searching for anything to clue him in, only noting an apprehensiveness cloaking her.

     He wanted to ask if she was alright, but decided to let her determine the course. Never breaking his gaze, Dan shut his door as Lexa stopped in the open space between the kitchen and his swivel chair.

     Gathering her nerve, Lexa sucked in her bottom lip and gnawed it with her upper teeth. For the past week, she tried to talk herself out of this. However, the devil on her shoulder conspired to push her into doing this with non-stop pestering. To silence the pesky devil, Lexa decided it should be now or never—and never was not an option she would readily accept.

     Releasing her lip, her gaze darting downward briefly, Lexa refocused on Dan’s intriguing sapphire eyes. She read confusion—yeah, he would be with her showing up at his new apartment this late and out of the blue. Before she chickened out, Lexa blurted out, “We can’t be friends anymore. The kiss at Wanderlust—”

     Crushed by her words, hoping for something different, Dan interrupted and attempted to salvage his slip-up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

     Recognizing her poor choice of opening words by Dan’s reaction, Lexa stepped forward and placed two fingers to his lips. “Shush. Please listen.”

Dan nodded and braced himself, a part of him valiantly clinging to hope.

     “Being friends isn’t working—”

     Both of their phones beeped with a TRF page, halting her again. They pulled out their cells, and both read the all-hands-on-deck text—whatever Lexa wanted to say must wait. Dan grabbed his keyring and followed Lexa out.

 

TRF HQ – Parking Lot – 10:20 p.m.

     Having left from Dan’s apartment simultaneously, but in their own vehicles, Lexa arrived at Toronto’s Tactical Response Force Headquarters at the same time as Dan. While driving here, Lexa realized the words she chose most likely left Dan with the wrong impression, and wished to clear the air. After parking, she jumped out and hurried to match his pace. “Dan, we—”

     “I get it! We’re only teammates now. You don’t need to worry … I’ll behave as such during this call.”

     Lexa wanted to scream. Dan’s clipped response confirmed he did come to an erroneous conclusion, but who could blame him when she made a complete muddle of what she intended to tell him. Recognizing now wouldn’t be the time or place to sort things out, Lexa donned her professional mantle and pushed her feelings to the back burner.

     Dan headed for the stairs instead of the elevator, hoping for a short reprieve from Lexa to put his head on straight, but she followed him. Her words stung, but he only had himself to blame for her change of heart. He should’ve kept his hands and lips off her at Wanderlust. Though he did wonder at the timing, everything had seemed great between them until she uttered five words that cut him to the core. We can’t be friends anymore.

​

TRF HQ – Briefing Room – 10:22 p.m.

     Upon reaching the main conference room entrance, both stopped, and their brows furrowed. Sergeant Nicholas Pastore stood in the front, conversing quietly with Commander Gambrill, Inspector Pope, Sergeant Bailey, and an unknown man. Along the bank of windows and the opposite wall stood members of Bravo and Delta teams. In that respect, nothing unusual, but what was unexpected is what they observed in the back of the room.

     Bram and Kellie De Haven settled their four pajama-clad, barely awake daughters on pillows on the blanket-covered floor. Next to the girls sat Kent, the fifteen-year-old wearing a bewildered expression, as his father transferred his sleeping little brother to his waiting arms.

Jon Hardy tucked the blanket around little Joey before peering at his eldest son. “Are you comfortable holding him?” When Kent nodded, Jon focused on his wife, who sat in one of the small table’s wooden chairs. “Jen, you alright?”

     “I’m okay,” Jennifer answered, though unnerved by the events so far. She hoped they would receive answers soon. “Go sit with your team.”

Maurita, sitting in the other wooden chair, patted her fiancé’s arm and motioned to Loki. “Ray, I’m fine, but I think your brother might need your calming presence.”

     Ray Palomo looked at Loki and noted his anxious expression. “Okay.”

     Perplexed, Lexa glanced at Dan, noting his expression was as puzzled as hers before they both joined the others around the conference table.

     Taking his seat, Dan asked, “What’s up?”

     Jon shook his head. “Don’t know yet. Camden and Victor showed up at my home in TRF SUVs and said we all had to come with them. Glen and Rob arrived at Bram’s place and brought them in too.”

     His knee beating a rapid tattoo, Constable Dante Baldovino, suitably called Loki, scanned his teammates. “I got an all-hands page and came in as fast as I could. Boss, Ray, and Maurita were here when I arrived. Gambrill, Pope, Bailey, and the other guy came next, then Jon and Bram with their families.”

     “This can’t be good,” Lexa said as Bram joined them, and Kellie took a seat near her girls.

     Nick noted the arrival of the last two members of his team. Addressing his superior, he said, “Sir, they’re all here. We can start.”

     Walter Gambrill turned and peered at the children in the back. “Perhaps it would be better to relocate to another room. Delta Team will remain here to provide security. All others will move to conference room three.”

     Bram turned to his wife, as Kellie said, “Go. We’ll be okay here. They’re sleeping now.”

     With his oldest son awake, Jon agreed. He didn’t want Kent exposed to anything graphic. “I assume whatever this is, it affects the safety of our families. Best to assess the threat and determine credibility before disseminating details to them.”

     As those needing to go to the other room started to file out, Ray stopped to hug Maurita. “I’m sorry, babe. I vow—”

     “Don’t. Go. I’ll be fine here with Kellie and Jen.” Maurita’s insecurities over Ray’s job as a constable caused her stomach to churn. For now, she determined to be strong, supportive and put on a brave face. He needed to focus on his job, not be distracted by her worries, especially in light of whatever caused families to be dragged from their beds in the middle of the night.

     Ray nodded and followed the others.

​

TRF HQ – Conference Room Three – 10:30 p.m.

     Bravo lined the walls, giving the chairs to Alpha and the other men. Gambrill sat at the head of the table and said, “You all know Pope and Bailey, but let me introduce Detective Byron Wescott, with the RCMP’s Toronto branch. Given the situation, we’ll dispense with further introductions and go straight to the point of why you’ve been called in and why your families are here.” Walter turned to Pope. “The floor is yours.”

     “Better if the first bit comes from Bailey,” Pope deferred.

     All eyes shifted to the Guns and Gangs sergeant. Bailey cleared his throat and focused on Ray. “When you called me in April after those videos of Broderick and McKenna at Darby Dock circulated and the next day it came to light Mack Wilford was the one responsible, I put a tail on him.

     “One of my best undercover officers, Dumas Blockader, followed Wilford to the Ale and Tale bar after an unknown person posted his bail. Subsequently, Dumas discovered the man Wilford met that night is the one who bailed him out. When we learned who the mystery man is, I contacted Chief Carlyle, and he assigned Pope to assist with the investigation. The local RCMP sent Wescott to join the task force since this is now a federal case.

     “My man succeeded in befriending Wilford and, as a result, gained an introduction to Wilford’s benefactor. Fast-forwarding, things appeared to be going well, and Dumas gathered vital intel for us, which allowed us to connect significant dots. We don’t have enough to garner a warrant yet, and expected more details from Dumas since his previous communication indicated he made headway. However, as of this morning, he missed his last three check-ins.”

     Bailey drew a deep breath quelling his unease. “I received a disturbing call from Marymount Hospital located in Hamilton at eight this evening. Someone pulled up to the emergency entrance, opened a door, and pushed out a man before speeding away. Their security monitors captured the dumping, but we only have the sedan’s make and model with the license plate obscured.

     “The man is Dumas, though, given his physical state, it would be impossible to tell by looking at him. Before losing consciousness, he managed to give the staff his name, my name, and a short message. He said Alpha Team and their families are targets.

     “I wish I had more detail to share, but I don’t. Dumas is in critical condition, and the doctors can’t tell me if he will pull through or not, but said indicators are unfavorable. I trust my officer, if he believes a target is on your backs, then there is one. And given who we are dealing with, the threat is credible.” Turning to Pope, he said, “You want to take it from here?”

     Roman Pope scanned the members of TRF. After the chief’s rebuke last month, he reassessed his mindset. To his dismay, he concluded he allowed sour grapes to cloud his judgment of these constables—something he chose to rectify moving forward. “The man Wilford met is Mateo Acin, the youngest son of Salvador Acin, one of Mexico’s most brutal cartel leaders.

     “We’ve since learned of a blood tie between Acin and the Blooddrop Crew leaders. Alonzo and Diego Nores are distant cousins, and the Acin Cartel is the source of the drugs they peddled.” He halted to let the material sink in.

     Ray paled but remained silent, anger and fear tempering his thoughts. Everyone I treasure is at risk because of my damned past. When will this end?