Swept Away (Wildfire Lake #3) - Skye Jordan Page 0,63

and repentant. Since I threatened to take him to jail, he’s keeping the blanket I pulled from the trunk over his lap. Which is good, because I don’t want to head to jail, even though I’m nearing the end of my shift. I heard dispatch send my coworker and the lone female officer on the WPD to a suspicious-person report about four or five minutes ago. If this turns into something good, I want to be there.

“You’ve got to put on pants—even if it’s just boxer shorts—when you’re in your yard where the neighbors can see you,” I tell Duffy for about the sixth time today.

“My neighbors need to mind their own goddamned business.”

His granddaughter's Honda pulls to the curb. Mandy stands and shoots an exasperated glare across the roof. “Grandpa, I can’t keep doing this. You want me to lose my job?”

Mandy is a waitress at a restaurant in the next town, and she and I warmed the sheets a couple of times months ago. She’s a beauty, no doubt. Her long hair is still flame in the dusky light of sunset. Creamy skin, freckles, and she’s feisty too. But I’m so damn crazy about Chloe, I don’t feel the slightest pull toward any other woman. And that only brings back our strange conversation earlier in the day.

“Sorry,” I tell her when Mandy steps up beside me. “I wouldn’t have called, but he refuses to go inside.”

“This is my own goddamned property. The Declaration of Independence says life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are basic human rights. I want my basic human rights.”

Mandy sighs, rubs her forehead, then drops her hand and looks up at me, giving my biceps an affectionate squeeze. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Thank you for calling me instead of taking him in.”

“No problem. At least there won’t be if you can convince him to go inside.”

“Oh, he’ll get inside, all right.” She crosses her arms and gives her grandfather a menacing scowl. “You get in that house by the count of ten, or I’m canceling your cable.”

“What? You can’t—”

“One, two, three—”

Her grandfather blusters. “Fine. I’ll call David. I’ll sue the city.”

He tosses the blanket to the ground and stands.

Mandy makes a sound in her throat—half groan, half laugh—and rubs her temples with both hands. “With the blanket, Grandpa.”

Grumbling, her grandfather swipes the blanket from the ground, but instead of wrapping it around his waist, he just carries it as he stomps back inside, slamming the door.

I laugh and shake my head. “You’ve got your hands full with that one.”

“No joke. I’ll get your blanket.”

“You go ahead and keep it.” I cue the mic on my shoulder to tell dispatch I’m done here. “613 10-24.”

“Copy, 613,” the dispatcher responds to my status.

“Heard you’re dating Chloe.”

Normally, the mention of Chloe makes me smile, but I’m not sure how Mandy will react to the news. “I am.”

“It’s about fucking time,” she says, surprising me. “Sure, it’s a blow to all single women in Wildfire, but I’m glad you finally caught her. It took you long enough.”

“That it did.” But maybe it wasn’t soon enough. Maybe she and I didn’t get enough time to cement our relationship before Bodhi returned.

“10-33.” Kelly yells the code for an officer needing immediate assistance, then adds, “10-43,” the code for pursuit along with “On foot, multiple suspects.”

My adrenaline spikes, and I jog to my unit. “Thanks for your help.”

“They scattered,” Kelly says, breathless, “I’m following a Caucasian male, late teens, white shirt over black pants…headed east on Plum, two other suspects…turned west on Pepper.”

I swing my unit around and head toward Pepper Street. The radio is cluttered with traffic, confirming multiple units headed toward the scene.

“10-43,” comes from Tommy Croft, confirming he’s also in pursuit. “Two suspects, both Caucasian, one male, one female.”

I’d bet my next paycheck this is the three idiots who can’t stay out of trouble around here—Smith, Dale, and Willow.

Only, Kelly comes back on the radio with “Suspect one in custody.” Then “10-52. Fourth suspect down.”

She gives the original store’s address to dispatch an ambulance to the scene. Fourth suspect has to be Chase, goddammit.

Then Croft calls in a breathless “On foot, male suspect…cutting through yard at…1610 Pepper. Female suspect…headed west on Maple.”

“613 headed east on Maple,” I call in, slowing to search for movement. My headlights catch the flash of light clothing on a person darting into a yard with long hair flying out behind her. A yard with no back fence.

I gun the engine and whip