Steve Mcgarrett Novels & Stories

He reaches where we are standing soon. His face is familiar and I think I must have seen him before but I do not remember until he opens his mouth to speak. Then, recognition came. He's Steve's guy. He was there until the day Debby was first arrested. "Captain,“ he called with reverence in his tone. “We cross-checked. We could not find anything. There were no fingerprints left. Everything on that island was burned to ash. “Nothing at all? Not even a strand of hair?” Steve said, his hand moving to rest on his waist. I can see he's tired and I bet he'd be willing to pop two bullets into this guy's head once he catches him.

she said and walked out, Mr Montero was left standing there following her with his eyes until she disappeared, He then turned and saw that Steve had not moved an itch "Steven Dante, am sorry you lost the case" he said sarcastically "I might have lost the case Jeff Montero but this is just the beginning of your nightmares" Steve sternly replied with no fear "I would like to know what gives you the guts to try and mess with me though" Mr montero moved closer to Steve until they stood tall to tall "I never lose Steven and the sooner you realize that the better, don't play with fire, you wont like the way it will burn you next time" he warned

He never works in uniform because his eyes said it's uncomfortable, especially in catching criminals or at stake-out. "We were having a meeting with the chief." Sighing, I cling to his arms. "I'm sorry, Steve. You have to keep doing this." "Who is he?" he abruptly asked which made me confused. But eventually rolled my eyes seeing his teasing eyes darting into mine. "Don't start with me. He's a doctor in this hospital." "So you two knew each other?" I shrugged. "Sort of, we are working in the same field though." We entered his Honda Accord EX but even I was just setting my seatbelt. He bothered me again about Doctor Laverde.

“I can’t tell you over the phone, I am on my way to your place, and will be there in like 10 minutes.” “Okay, sure,” I say as I end the call and something unsettling runs in my stomach. Did he catch the thief? I pour myself a shot of whisky from the fridge to calm down. Well, it does not work and I end up even more nervous. The 10 minutes feel like an eternity for me but I am finally startled by a knock at the door. I walk to open and I am met by a very serious Steve. He looks even shorter today with his oversized blue jeans and red sweater. We say our pleasantries and I usher him in. “What is it, Steve? I was actually on my way out on a date before I got our call,” I say pouring him a shot

Kristi turned in her seat, ready to ream someone out, and looked into the smiling face of Keith McCormick, a radio patrol cop from the local precinct. They'd handled a number of situations together. "I thought I'd introduce you to the latest addition to our fine precinct." She looked over his shoulder into the face of the cop she'd worked today's disaster with and thought, holy crap! He'd looked very professional in his uniform, earlier, with his visored cap shading much of his face as he'd done what was necessary in a disastrous situation. And he never lost his cool.

Alex stood, turning to a graying man with a crooked grin— Jamie Torres, his badge read. “I’m Alex, new transfer,” he said, offering a nod. “Jamie, detective,” the man replied, sinking into a chair. “You’re on the Romano case?” Alex nodded. “Yeah. Looking for an edge.” Jamie’s eyes softened. “Watch your back, son. Those bastards are dangerous. Been in this city for years, dodging every trap. Power buys them out, and they trample on anyone in their way.” Alex’s fist clenched. “I’ll prove they’re not above the law.”

But despite the empty severity of his warnings, Max knew that deep down, the chief valued their presence. As if reading Max's thoughts, the chief's face softened momentarily, a fleeting moment of recognition passing between them. Max and Lark were more than just officers to the chief; they were his best officers. They had proven themselves time and again, solving the most puzzling cases and restoring order to the chaos that often plagued their precinct. There's been a distress call from Chester Cross Hospital," Captain Stevens announced, his voice filled with urgency as he paused, scanning their faces. Max and Lark exchanged glances, curiosity etched on their faces.

In general, it was surprising how he ended up in the police, and even more so how he was put as a partner to John, because Steve could not stand the sight of blood, and their work is not the most pleasant: sometimes there is too much blood, not to mention severed limbs. Steve was dressed in a police uniform. Although he was John's partner, he preferred to wear not civilian clothes, like Black, but corresponding to the status of a defender of law and order. And after all, he absolutely couldn’t prove that it’s not about how you look, but about what you do for people. A man stubborn in some things.

“He… he talked to Steve. In dispatch.” Grant’s jaw tightened. Mara scribbled something. “Bring Steve,” I said. Tracy stood up too quickly, like she couldn’t wait to escape. As she left, she glanced at Grant again—fast, fearful—and I made a mental note. Not because she looked at him. Because she looked at him like he could punish her. Beside me, Roger sighed. "Going to be a long day, Carter." Steve came in wearing a Mercer polo and the expression of a man who thought “HR conference room” meant he’d done something wrong. He sat and folded his hands on the table like he was in school.

He deliberately put the call on speaker. "Yes." There was no response for several seconds. Then the voice of a middle-aged man came from the other end of the line. "Good afternoon, Mr. Miller." His tone was calm, almost too relaxed for a situation like this. "Who is this?" "Hector Graham." The room instantly fell silent. Chris and Brandon exchanged glances, while Vincent stared in disbelief. Hector Graham was the Chief of Intelligence for the Carrington Bay Police Department. A man known for his fearsome yet brilliant reputation, who almost never contacted anyone without a very good reason.