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“What did yours say?” Mac broke the silence.
She sniffed and raised her head to meet his gaze.
“Your twenty-four hours are up,” she cited the text she had received from memory. Those words had haunted her.
Curses lined the room. Jordan held Mac’s unwavering gaze. He had to know that she would never break the bond she had with her team.
“Knight, there’s no way?—”
The room exploded in chaos.
“Knight isn’t a traitor,” Mac interjected and held up a hand.
The room fell silent. Their leader pushed off the wall and came to stand at the foot of her bed. Jordan’s skin prickled as she felt everyone’s eyes land on her.
“Tell us everything.”
19
“Do you know who my father is?” the young punk in handcuffs grumbled.
Rhys had been at a gas station filling up his truck. He had decided last minute to run back in to purchase an energy drink. He was on day shift and had been working nights. His body was still having difficulty switching over. He was too old to be working the swing shift. He’d ambled back into the gas station and saw this young punk attempting to rob the store at gunpoint.
Hence where they were now.
“I don’t give a damn who your father is,” Rhys said.
If his father was truly someone, then why the hell was the kid robbing a gas station? Due to Rhys having the K9 SUV, he’d called in backup, and Henry, a recent addition to the precinct, answered and arrived with a regular patrol car. They had arrested the kid and thrown him in the back of Henry’s vehicle.
Rhys turned to Henry and nodded. “Thanks for the transport.”
“Glad I was in the area to help.” Henry gave him a salute and slid back into his car.
Rhys guided the kid toward the precinct to process him.
“My father will have all of your badges,” the kid said, whose driver’s license revealed his name to be Brock Hines.
The last name didn’t ring any bells for Rhys, but it didn’t matter. The kid was actively robbing a gas station and breaking the law.
“Shut up,” Rhys growled.
Honor gave a bark from her position in the SUV that was parked next to Henry’s vehicle. Rhys was going to run in, drop this punk off to processing, then finish off his shift. He didn’t have much time left. He was already looking forward to getting off work. For once he and Jordan were on the same schedule. He planned to light up the grill and toss a few steaks out there for them. Nova had texted him that she had planned to stay home tonight with them. It would be good to spend the evening with his favorite girls.
“I have rights, you know. Don’t I get a phone call or some shit like that? I watch television, I know what the protocols are supposed to be,” Brock shouted.
He gave a little fight, but Rhys tightened his hold on Brock’s arm as they walked through the back where they were to bring offenders. A few cops sitting at their desks all joined Rhys in rolling their eyes.
Everyone who watched any television cop shows always claimed to be experts when it came to police work. Rhys ignored the kid’s rants and shouts and guided him to the holding cells.
“I have to go in there?” Brock whined. He dug in his heels and tried to keep Rhys from guiding him toward the cell.
There were a few men in there who didn’t look to be good. They were much bigger than Brock’s five feet seven height. Rhys smirked and nodded to the officer sitting at the intake desk.
“Hey, Rhys. How’s it going?” Jim snorted, eyeing Brock.
It was obvious the kid didn’t belong in the holding cells. There was no telling what those men were in for. There was agood chance they had done worse things than highjack a gas station while a cop was getting gas.
“It will be just fine as soon as I can get him processed,” Rhys remarked.
