Watching Zoe drive away, Jack didn't start his car right away. Instead, he called Lucy to inform her about the recent events. He reassured her that John was not in life-threatening danger and finally managed to calm her down, promising to visit the hospital with her after work the next day before hanging up.
Driving home, Jack couldn't help but shake his head at the situation. Here he was, a 21-year-old aspiring elite cop, turned into an emotional counselor, constantly dealing with relationship dramas. Though being a bystander was entertaining, it was nowhere near as exciting as flirting with Zoe or enjoying perks from Hannah. Oh, and he couldn't forget about the bespectacled Maureen.
When he arrived home, it was almost midnight. Hannah was startled by the bloodstains on his clothes. After a brief explanation of what had happened, Jack went upstairs to take a shower. He then made some wontons for a late-night snack and chatted with Hannah while they ate.
"How do you always stay so calm in these situations? You don't seem like a rookie at all. Even if I were there, I couldn't guarantee handling things better than you," Hannah said, regretting not going out drinking with Jack tonight because she wanted to stay home and play games.
"Get some sleep, don't stay up too late. There might be a big operation tomorrow," Jack said, washing the dishes. Seeing Hannah's slightly swollen lips from the chili oil in the dipping sauce, he felt a sudden urge and bent down to kiss her.
As he watched her eyes gradually fill with mist, Jack realized that, despite not firing a shot today, he was still experiencing some residual adrenaline. This complicated his already tangled feelings, further cementing his role as a man caught between two women.
"If you can't handle spicy food, don't eat so much next time."
Pulling back his hand, which had been inching towards more intimate territory, Jack hurriedly left, offering a lame explanation.
Hannah, blushing and hugging herself, sat stunned for a moment before collapsing onto the couch, burying her head in the cushion and giggling softly.
The next day, Jack drove to the precinct. As he approached the briefing room, he saw through the glass that Zoe and a red-eyed Captain Grey were conducting roll call.
"What happened?" Jack asked, pulling Lucy aside as she was about to enter the briefing room.
"Tim's wife, Isabella, was found two hours ago in an alley, shot in the head. She's still in surgery."
"The DEA has identified the suspect's hideout. The precinct is preparing to capture him," Lucy said quickly. They then entered the briefing room together.
A few minutes later, with everyone present, Captain Grey began the briefing. "The suspect, Vance Marcus, is likely hiding in a storage facility in the South Gate area. DEA agents Wolfe and Vestri will lead the local patrol in the search."
He then looked at Jack and the others. "You will head to the Bronson building. We have intelligence that Vance's girlfriend, Sesia Olivo, lives there, but we don't have an exact apartment number. This means you'll need to conduct a door-to-door search."
Zoe added, "Be cautious during the search. Vance is a major drug lord, and his associates are heavily armed and won't surrender easily. Watch out for each other and stay safe."
"I called the hospital earlier. John's bullet has been removed, and he should recover in about two weeks without any lasting damage. However, due to his absence, Hannah will temporarily replace him and team up with Bishop. Lucy and Jack will stay with their respective instructors. The building has many residents, so it's not advisable to carry rifles, but each of you can carry extra magazines and prepare your backup weapons."
With their orders, everyone set out. After collecting his gear from the armory, Jack received a shoulder holster from Hannah at the entrance. "I made this from the best calf leather on our farm over the past two days. Try it with your Colt Python."
Jack felt a pang of guilt. Despite how he had acted towards Hannah last night, she was still so considerate towards him. Now wasn't the time to address this, so he quietly thanked her and wished her to stay safe before quickly catching up with Angela.
Today, Angela was driving. As Jack settled into the passenger seat, he started organizing his gear, inserting armor plates into his vest and adjusting the new shoulder holster. Hannah's craftsmanship was impeccable; the Colt Python fit perfectly without hindering his movements.
Angela paid no attention to the finely crafted holster but was drawn to the Colt Python itself. This tough, no-nonsense woman couldn't help but swear.
"Fuck, where'd you get this beauty?"
Since Jack had showcased his advanced handgun skills during the parking lot shootout, Angela hadn't had a chance to shoot with him again. Of course, she still shamelessly demanded that he buy her lunch, claiming that his stellar performance was thanks to her special training. Jack, not wanting to show off, had only practiced a few rounds at the range in secret and never flaunted this exquisite revolver publicly.
"Rick Hunter, an old friend of my parents, gave it to me when I visited him. He said I needed a backup gun and gifted it to me."
"You know that legendary cop? That's incredible. This custom piece has long been priceless," Angela's eyes practically turned into hearts.
"Hunter said it cost over $2500 when it was custom-made. It's worth much more now."
Handing the Colt Python to Angela, whose mouth was almost watering, Jack took out a box of .357 Magnum rounds and loaded five speed loaders, tucking them into his belt.
"Are you preparing for war?" Angela asked, raising an eyebrow. Each of them carried four spare magazines. Including the rounds already in their Glocks, they each had 75 rounds of .40 S&W ammo. Jack had additionally prepared 30 rounds of powerful Magnum ammo for his backup gun, which seemed excessive.
"When dealing with drug lords, there's never enough ammo." Jack vaguely remembered this scene and knew he'd likely be looking at at least three days of administrative leave afterward.
"What model is your backup gun? I've never seen you use it," Jack asked, curious.
Reluctantly handing back the Colt Python, Angela patted her chest. "A Beretta 950. I got it as a birthday gift for myself when I turned 16."
Noticing Jack's slightly puzzled look, she laughed. "I have a special bra that fits the gun perfectly."
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