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Sixteen million dollars, a stash only he could locate, and the dangerous motorcycle gang responsible for his death.
I’m in way over my head, and I’m probably being stupid.
But as the flames warm my face and dry my tears, a different fire burns in my chest.
I will have my revenge.
Chapter 1
Amelia
Three years later
“Auntie Rosa, I promise I’m all right. I’m not a kid anymore, you know!”
My blue-green eyes dart over my desk to Ronnie, the senior officer who’s stationed right across from me. I’m taking a call halfway underneath my desk and trying not to get caught.
Ronnie’s got his nose buried in a newspaper and his feet propped up on the table. He looks like he’s not watching, but I know that man is a hawk.
“So, is everything okay at the precinct? I don’t want you doing anything dangerous, you know.” My aunt’s voice over the phone pulls my attention again, and I look away from Ronnie for a moment.
“I’m not doing anything dangerous! In fact, it’s almost boring back here!” I whisper-yell, some of my frustration seeping through.
I’ve been working at the precinct for six months now, and nothing’s happened. Granted, I was a trainee officer for the first month, but this was beginning to grate on my patience.
“Isn’t that a good thing? I still don’t get your sudden passion for the badge—” Aunt Rosa starts off again on one of her worried tirades.
“Auntie, we’ve been over this.” Exasperation colors my voice.
Ever since I chose to join the police force three years ago, my aunt has not stopped voicing her displeasure.
“It’s just, you’re such a bright girl… You could do so well at literally anything else. Why would you want to do such dangerous work? Your father—”
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to hear what she’s going to say next.
Thankfully, Ronnie’s voice cuts into our conversation. “Put the phone down, Boot. You’re not fooling anyone with whatever you think you’re doing.”
My gaze darts up to the older man as my nose crinkles at the nickname the entire precinct has given me.
Boot. As in, bootcamp. As in rookie.
It’s a subtle reminder of exactly why I’ve been stuck in my boring routine.
“Aren’t you supposed to be finishing up the paperwork for that drunk driver?” Ronnie still hasn’t looked up from his newspaper.
The man really is some kind of hawk.
I turn to my phone one last time. “I gotta go, Auntie. You’ll get me in trouble at this rate. I’ll call you later, okay? Bye. I love you.”
I don’t wait to hear Aunt Rosa’s response before I slip my phone in the pocket of my uniform and offer Ronnie an innocent smile.
“I’m almost done with that paperwork,” I say.
Ronnie just harrumphs. He knows I’m not lying. If there’s one thing my aunt was right about, it was that I’m bright. Photographic memory, quick hands, and whatnot.
My efficiency is a double-edged sword in that the chief has joked one too many times about me being better off behind the desk.
Absolutely not. I can’t be a desk cop. Not that there’s anything wrong with desk cops, but I have to be out in the field if I’m going to catch the men who killed my dad and make them pay.
