CHAPTER SIX: The Echo of Guns and Glares

By sunrise, the Miami sky was already scorching with heat, as if foreshadowing the chaos the day had in store.

Leah Moore stood in front of her locker, slipping her coffee. Her mind still wandered with the image of Jason Walker smugly sipping coffee in the Chief’s office while she was chewed out for negligence. The nerve. The arrogance. The way his stupid jawline caught the light like some bad-boy action figure.

"Still thinking about me?” Jason’s voice sliced through the locker room catching her unawares

She ignored him and turned. He stood there in a casual black tee and department-issued slacks, somehow managing to look both out of place and completely in command. His smirk was locked and loaded.

Leah narrowed her eyes. “I’m thinking about tasering you.”

“Careful, detective. That might fall under police brutality.” He winked. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

She shoved past him. “You’re not funny. And you’re not a cop.”

“According to Chief Morales and every major news network, I am.”

Jason followed her out to the main floor, where the squad was already assembling. Ben was loading his gear. Torres leaned against a desk, sipping coffee.

Torres spotted Jason and grinned. “Morning, Walker. Ready to make Miami safer with your... T*****r followers?”

Jason gave him a lazy salute. “Justice comes in many forms, my man.”

Leah groaned audibly. “I cannot do this.”

Jason leaned closer as they walked past the bullpen. “You know what I think? You’re threatened.”

She stopped. “By you?”

“By the idea that someone who didn’t climb the ranks can still make a difference.”

“You’re not a difference-maker. You’re a liability. One mistake, and someone ends up dead.”

“I haven’t made a mistake yet.”

“You will,” she snapped.

They were nose-to-nose now, voices just under a shout. The squad glanced over, clearly entertained, but no one interrupted.

Before she could fully launch into another verbal takedown, Chief Morales stepped out of his office, grim-faced.

“We’ve got a call. Shots fired and a hostage situation in a low-rent apartment building near Wynwood. Units are en route, but we’re closest. You’re up.”

Leah’s posture straightened. “Details?”

“Suspect’s ex-military, reportedly unstable. Neighbors say he’s got a young woman and possibly a child inside. Witnesses heard screaming. Team up, move fast.”

Jason’s demeanor shifted instantly. The smirk disappeared, replaced by sharp focus. Leah noticed the change, but didn’t comment. Instead, she grabbed her radio and strode toward the cruiser.

She tossed Jason a vest. “Put this on. Stay behind me. Don’t improvise.”

He caught it easily. “You want me to stay safe, Detective?”

“No,” she replied without looking at him. “I want you to stay out of my way.”

The apartment building was located in a local area.  A perimeter had been set up, with yellow tape flapping in the breeze and frightened tenants crowding the sidewalks.

Leah and Jason ducked under the tape, followed by Ben and Torres.

“Unit 4B,” an officer briefed. “He’s armed. Says he wants to talk to someone named ‘Clara.’ If we go in guns blazing, the girl gets hurt.”

Leah turned to Jason. “You stay here with Torres.”

Jason raised a brow. “No.”

“No?” she blinked.

“I’ve been in worse situations in the streets of Nairobi and São Paulo. You think this guy scares me?”

“You don’t even have a badge.”

“I’ve got instincts. And fists.”

“And that’s exactly what’ll get the girl killed!” she hissed.

They stood chest to chest now, fire clashing with fire.

“I’m not your rookie partner,” he said, low and sharp. “And I’m not going to sit this out while someone dies.”

She glared at him, exasperated. “You think being brave makes you competent?”

“No,” he said simply. “But I know how fear works. Let me try to talk to him. Just… let me try.”

Leah’s eyes searched his for any trace of pretense. She saw only steel and something else. Something raw and buried. Against every shred of reason, she nodded.

“If you so much as breathe wrong,” she muttered, “I’ll drag your body out myself.”

Jason walked through the creaking hallway, unarmed, hands visible. The suspect stood by the window with a pistol pressed to the temple of a crying woman. A small boy sat on the floor, shivering.

“Don’t come closer!” the man shouted.

Jason kept his voice calm. “Hey. I’m not a cop. Just someone who knows what it’s like to lose everything.”

The man flinched. “You don’t know anything!”

“I do,” Jason said gently. “I lost my mom to a bullet. Wrong place, wrong time. My life spun out after that. Got in trouble. Got angry. Did things I’m not proud of.”

The man’s grip faltered slightly.

“I know you don’t want to hurt them,” Jason said. “You want to be seen. Heard. And I see you, man. I hear you.”

A beat of silence.

Then the suspect’s hand shook. “I didn’t mean for this to happen…”

Jason took a step forward. “Let the girl go.”

Outside, Leah and her team moved into position, weapons drawn, waiting.

Suddenly, the suspect dropped the gun. The girl screamed and fell to the floor. The child ran to her.

Jason kicked the weapon away just as Leah burst through the door, aiming at the man’s back.

“It’s over!” she barked.

Jason held up his hands. “He gave up.”

Leah’s chest rose and fell with adrenaline, eyes flicking from Jason to the suspect and back.

Then she saw it Jason’s trembling hand. His knuckles were white. The cocky smirk? Nowhere to be found.

She lowered her weapon slowly.

Later that day, The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the rooftop. Leah stood by the railing, sipping from a water bottle. Jason walked up beside her.

“You broke protocol,” she said without looking at him.

“I saved lives.”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

He leaned against the rail. “Would you have cared?”

She met his eyes. “Yes.”

A flicker of something unreadable passed between them. A quiet, volatile truth neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

“I saw the way your hands shook,” she said softly.

Jason didn’t respond.

“It’s okay to be scared,” she added.

“I wasn’t scared for me,” he murmured. “I was scared I’d fail.”

Leah’s gaze softened. “You didn’t.”

Then she glanced away quickly. “Don’t think this means I like you.”

Jason smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jason sat alone on the edge of his bed that night, staring at an old photo in his hand his mother, smiling. Her voice echoed in his memory:

“Be the kind of man the world doesn’t expect... but desperately needs.”

For the first time in years, he didn’t feel lost.

Leah’s phone buzzed at 2:13 AM. She groaned, rolled over, and picked it up.

An unknown number.

She answered sleepily. “Hello?”

A deep, distorted voice whispered through the speaker.

“Tell Jason Walker the past is not buried. And I’m coming for what’s mine.”

Click.

Leah sat bolt upright, heart pounding. In the dark, something told her this was only the beginning.