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"Until we know whether your cover is shot to shit, you need to lay low. You could be targeted next," Finn reminds me.
Not that I need the reminder.
I know all too well the potential consequences if Brady's fuck-up exposed my identity. It's not just my job at the ATF and my cover as a small-time arms dealer at stake; it's also my safety and that of my daughter. If Guerrero suspects that I'm the cop who killed his man, he won't hesitate to eliminate Tahani to send a message. Guerrero is ruthless and merciless. He's a goddamn nightmare to anyone who crosses him.
My hand tightens around the steering wheel, a low growl rumbling in the back of my throat at the thought of Guerrero getting anywhere near my daughter. If Brady put her in danger, I will lose my fucking mind.
I don't tell Finn that, though. I don't need another lecture about staying out of it. Brady's fucking lucky all he got was a black eye and a broken nose. He could have lost everything.
"You headed to the condo?" Finn asks when I flip on my blinker and hang a left.
"Yep. About two minutes out."
"Good. Stay there until this shit blows over," he instructs like I didn't already plan on doing exactly that.
I'm not stupid. I know how this game works. I live and breathe the fucking rules, both the ATF's and my own. Losing isn't an option for me, not when it means putting Tahani at risk. My entire life revolves around keeping her safe. It has since the day I found out she was my kid, and I will never do anything that puts her in the sights of men like Guerrero or his boss.
"Plan on it," I tell Finn anyway as I make the final turn onto my street. The smell of the ocean seeps through the vents, intensifying. The sound of waves crashing against the shore washes over me, but the familiar sound doesn't soothe me like usual. I'm wound tight and beyond pissed.
"I'll keep you advised of the situation here," Finn says.
"Yeah, thanks."
He disconnects the call.
I hit the garage door opener as my condo comes into view ahead. It's a two-story building with a sleek black exterior and a small balcony above the entrance.
The place is modest compared to most of the other homes in the area, but I don't need big and flashy. That’s never been my style.
"What the fuck?" I mutter as I pull into the driveway, staring at the red Dodge Charger parked in my garage. I've never seen the car before, and I know Tahani hasn't been here since she texted me two hours ago to tell me that she and Trent are already in love with their new place in Sacramento. The lights in the condo are off, the entire place shrouded in darkness.
Warning bells sound in the back of my mind.
"There's no fucking way they've found this place already," I mutter to myself. The condo isn't even in my name or any alias I've ever used. I buried the purchase under a mountain of paperwork when I bought the place. I come here when I need to get away. It's quiet, peaceful, and close enough to Berkeley that I could spend time with Tahani before she graduated without worrying about who might find out about her. Finding me here would take a fucking miracle.
The reminder doesn't relax the tension coiling my muscles into tight knots.
I kill the headlights, back out to the road, and roll three houses down before reaching into my glove compartment to grab my Glock. After chambering a bullet, I shove my phone into my pocket in case I need it. Once I kill the engine and step out of the truck, I keep to the shadows, circling around to the back of my property with my gun held firmly in my grasp.
I strain to hear anything over the crashing waves as I move through the shadows, but the house is silent.
That fact doesn't help relax me any.
Moving quickly, I slip through the side gate. The hinges squeal, but the sound is so faint that the wind quickly swallows it. I stay in the shadows for a long moment, watching for any movement through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The house appears to be as vacant as I left it after Tahani's graduation.
I make my way to the back deck and then stop before my boots hit the first step. The back door is standing open, and the lamp beside the couch is on, casting the room into muted shadow.
And then I see her.
Mila Lawson.
Tahani's best friend and the entire reason I have a rule about not fucking my daughter's friends.
Blondes with green eyes are a dime a dozen in California, but blondes like Mila? Not even close. She has no clue how fucking gorgeous she is. She's curvy, soft in all the right places, and has the longest, sexiest legs I've ever seen. Her ass should be criminal. It's soft and round, and I want to know what it feels like in my hands while her legs are wrapped around my waist and I'm balls deep inside of her. I want to know what that soft voice sounds like screaming my name.
I've fantasized about her so much over the last four years it's ridiculous. Since the day I met her, she's looked at me like she knows exactly what I'm thinking. Like she might not object if I gave in to the filthy thoughts running through my head and claimed her.
That's a problem for me.
