Every Sunday, weather permitting, this was their ritual. The tot slipped his small hand into Stryker’s and the three of them made their way over to the slide. Stryker helped the tyke climb up. It was tight, but Stryker managed to maneuver through the small jungle gym. Graham plopped down, Stryker sat behind him and they slid down.
“Yay! Again!” Graham exclaimed.
After doing it five more times, Stryker turned the sliding gig over to Dakota and watched as father and son played together.
“Is this what love does to people?” Stryker asked.
Dakota chuffed out a laugh. “Looks that way. So, who’s the woman?”
“Emerson Easton,” Stryker replied.
“How do I know that name? Wait, isn’t she the cop who arrested you?”
“That’s the one.”
“You must like her a lot if you’re willing to look past that.”
I’m crazy about her. Stryker bit back a smile. “I must.”
“Bring her by some Sunday. We’ll be nice.”
“Or scare her away.”
They stayed until Graham had had enough. As Dakota was strapping his son into the stroller, four linebacker-sized teenage boys wandered onto the playground. Two were smoking weed and one was vaping.
“Look, a coupla dads with their baby,” said one of the teens. “What’s your kid call you? Dad One and Dad Two?”
“You carryin’?” Stryker murmured to Dakota.
“Yup. You?”
“Same.”
“Take it down a few, guys,” Dakota said. “This is my wife’s cousin.”
“Sorry, dude,” said one of the teens. “We’s thought yous guys was faggots.”
Stryker strode over and glared down at them. “Mind your own damn business and stop judging. Who the fuck do you think you are? God?”
The biggest kid stepped into Stryker’s space. “Yeah, man, I am God. Whatcha gonna do about it, pussy?”
Stryker wanted to punch the kid’s lights out. Instead, he pulled out his phone, tapped his IDware app, then snapped a pic of the teens. Seconds later, he had what he needed. “Three of you have a juvi record. Shoplifting, mugging, vandalism. Hmm, one of you killed a dog.” He narrowed his gaze and stared from one to the other. “Get your shit together, boys, or you’ll end up in prison.”
Stryker made his way back to Dakota and Graham. As the three of them headed toward home, Dakota said, “You hear him coming?”
“Yeah, I think he’s gonna jump me. Keep going. I got this.”
The kid was coming in fast. Stryker turned to face his assailant and the blade pierced his shoulder, sending pain shooting down his arm. He grabbed the kid’s wrist, yanked it backward, and twisted hard.
“AAAAIIIEEEEE!” screamed the teen as he dropped the knife.
He held on to the kid while Dakota called 911. The other three kids took off.
“Hey, don’t leave me!” shouted the teen.
But his friends were long gone, having already vanished into the nearby neighborhood.
“Police are on their way,” Dakota said, then made another call.
