While listening to the conversation and trying to recall more details, Jack looked at Zoe and asked, "Superintendent Anderson, how many members does the Southern Front gang have?"
Zoe, who had been subtly observing Jack to ensure he was uninjured, finally relaxed upon hearing his question. Now she could openly look at him in front of everyone.
"Statewide, there are about five to six thousand members. In the greater Los Angeles area, there are at least two thousand."
Chief Gray turned to John. "So the priority now is to ensure your safety. I'll temporarily reassign you from street patrol. I suggest you rest at home for a while, and a team of officers will be stationed near your house 24/7."
Seeing it was the right time, Zoe offered to escort John home. In her mind, no gang would dare attack a superintendent.
Jack's internal alarm bells rang, but it was unwise to publicly question his direct superior's orders, let alone try to stop a superior's superior's decision.
Suppressing his anxiety, he smiled and said, "I'll go too. I'll stay at John's place tonight. I warned him about the last attack at his home, and now this. I don't mind him owing me more favors. I could use help with my new house's renovation."
John gratefully patted his shoulder. "You should have asked me sooner. I suspected you couldn't handle that super deluxe kitchen by yourself."
Since the old Ford pickup was totaled, John rode in the police car Zoe had arrived in, while Jack followed in his second-hand Chevrolet. Fortunately, they reached John's home without incident.
After a brief conversation, Zoe prepared to leave. Jack quickly followed and called out to her outside.
"Superintendent Anderson."
Zoe smiled and turned, her high ponytail creating a beautiful arc in the night.
Jack hesitated. He wanted to remind her to be safe but didn't know how to start. Zoe at work was different from their private interactions—self-assured and decisive, not as gentle and approachable.
This confidence was likely necessary for a woman to become a leader in a male-dominated police system.
Chief Gray, also from a military background, respected Zoe not just due to rank differences. As a grassroots commander who had grown from street patrol, he had skills for handling incompetent superiors.
Jack never saw Chief Gray treat Zoe perfunctorily, even in words.
Zoe had mentioned that Chief Gray initially doubted her decision to recruit the old rookie John. Yet, as John proved himself, the black-faced chief grew increasingly fond of him, seeing in John a reflection of his own middle-age crisis and admiring Zoe's judgment.
An idea sparked in Jack's mind, forming a vague plan. But it wasn't time to reveal it; he needed to persuade John first.
"Uh, I have some ideas, but they're not fully formed yet. Could you provide some information on the Southern Front? I'll report back to you tomorrow morning."
Zoe seemed surprised but quickly nodded. Her eyes filled with deep emotion. "I'll send it to your email when I get back. Stay safe tonight."
This wasn't the time for intimate gestures. John was inside, and a police car was parked across the street on protection duty.
Jack restrained the urge to hug the beautiful officer, simply saying softly, "You too, dear."
Zoe blushed, giving him a playful glare. "My parents will send Hannah to Quantico tomorrow. Just report to the office directly."
After their farewell, Jack returned to John's house. The old rookie had thoughtfully laid out a blanket in the living room with a pot of coffee and a box of five Cohiba Lanceros cigars.
"Wow, you had these hidden away?" Jack delightedly took a cigar, inhaling its rich aroma.
He didn't have a smoking habit but loved the rich scent of Cuban cigars. When feeling anxious or needing long contemplation, he'd light a fine Cuban cigar like burning incense—a rustic yet luxurious indulgence.
John skillfully clipped the cigar and lit it with a long birchwood match before handing it to Jack.
The fragrant smoke filled Jack's mouth, lingered on his tongue, and was slowly exhaled, relaxing him. John, sitting opposite, also showed a look of enjoyment.
"Thank you for saving my life again, Jack. I don't know how to thank you," John said solemnly.
Jack waved it off. "Didn't I say? Help me fix that damn kitchen, and we'll call it even. I've already wasted nearly $100 worth of materials."
John laughed, then frowned. "I can't go to work like this, can I? I mean, I'll endanger everyone within five feet of me."
"We've been in danger since becoming street cops. A stray bullet could kill us any day." Jack replied with a wry smile. "Did you become a rookie cop at 45 thinking it was safer than your previous job as a construction contractor?"
John asked, puzzled, "You mean I should go to work tomorrow and pretend the gang's hit order doesn't exist?"
Jack's tone was matter-of-fact. "Shouldn't they fear us? We're the ones who make these scumbags tremble."
"If today's incident reaches the higher-ups, they'll be angrier than me. This is a police state. Since when do gangs challenge police authority?"
But Jack then added, "Ultimately, it's your decision. You have a family. Colleagues will understand whatever you decide."
John nodded. "Superintendent Anderson suggested the same. I'll go to work tomorrow. They'll need all hands on deck."
Just then, Jack's phone beeped. Zoe had sent over a trove of information.
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