Page 39 of Her Passionate Hero

“Okay, Dalton, I don’t know where I stand with Alia. All I know is I can’t handle leaving it where it is now.”

“Where is it?”

“I thought we weren’t going to have a heart to heart out in the middle of the street?”

“Oh, now that we’re not dredging up my shit, I’m fine,” Dalton grinned.

Hunter shook his head. God, he loved this man. “Get your ass into your truck. I’m going to do a little reconnaissance.”

“What kind?” Dalton asked all business.

“Just a quick little jaunt around the old neighborhood.”

“I see you’re armored up and loaded for bear,” Dalton said, pointing to Hunter’s holstered gun and body armor. “I’m betting there’s probably more to it than a little walkabout.”

“You’d win that bet. A car full of gang members showed up about three hours ago. They were small-time. It took me about a minute to disarm them. I highly doubt they’ll be back. They were here to determine if Alia was staying at her grandmother’s house. Then there’s a patrolman who has a hard-on for Alia, who stopped by to check on her. He gave me a bit of a hassle. I gave him the guns I confiscated from the baby gangbangers.”

Dalton chuckled, “So, is the cop competition?”

“Doubt it. Alia basically has the Great Wall of China built up around her. I can’t imagine anyone getting through.”

“Except you.”

“I don’t know, Dalton.”

“Have faith, Brother. What are you hoping to find when you tour your old haunts?”

“Information about somebody named Mateo. Apparently, he has it out for Aliana. Also turns out besides having her townhome blown to smithereens, she was cut up during an assault last week. She needed stitches. She failed to mention that.”

“Down boy.”

“Trying to get any information out of her is like pulling teeth.”

“Well, won’t it be nice to know that your woman won’t be talking out of turn?”

“Jesus, what is with you?” Hunter stared at Dalton who just grinned wider.

“Hunter, you’re not seeing the forest for the trees. But I’m going to my truck now.”

“I’ll be back to spell you in a couple of hours.”

“No need. I napped today, I knew you’d be calling. I’m good. Go get some shut-eye after you’re done doing your recon. You need to figure out how to break down the Great Wall of China.” Dalton started whistling ‘The Way We Were’ as he walked down the street. He had clearly lost his damn mind.

Chapter Five

Hunter knew exactly where he was going. He drove a mile south of LasNuevas Espada’s territory. Hell, now he was in the middle of Crip’s turf. He ditched the windbreaker and pulled on a plain gray sweat jacket with a hood. He didn’t want to have anything making him stand out more than his size. He kept his head down as he moved silently down the streets, staying in the shadows. Once or twice, he saw someone glance his way, but they decided to leave him alone. Smart move.

Finally, he crossed the busy street that took him to the outskirts of the Espada’s. He grinned when he walked by Uncle Julio’s barbershop. It was the first place he’d ever had his hair cut. Mamie had taken him there right before first grade. Before then, someone had always picked up whatever scissors were handy and just chopped away. He looked in the window. There was a light in the back that allowed him to see the barber chairs. He wondered if Julio was still alive. He hoped so, he was an institution in the neighborhood.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone checking him out. When he turned, he realized it was just a prostitute trying to determine if he was a potential client. He shook his head. She walked on down the street. Had they always been that young?

He continued on, walking slowly, wanting to see if he recognized any familiar faces. It’s not like he’d be welcomed with open arms, but eventually, he figured there could be a meeting of minds. He came up to the ABC liquor store where Sonny had been killed when he was twelve years old. He’d been stupid enough to go in with his older brother, both of them carrying. Sonny had been in his grade at school. He wasn’t even in any of the gangs, nobody wanted him because he was too stupid. That was probably why he ended up dead. Hunter wondered how many of his other friends were now dead, the ones who had been smart enough to be recruited into the gangs, but not smart enough to get out. He crossed another street.

It was two o’clock in the morning, and he would guess the three kids on the upcoming corner couldn’t be more than fourteen. Apparently, school wasn’t a priority. They looked over at him, and one of them started texting on his phone. Hunter wasn’t surprised when an Escalade rolled up two minutes later, and he was surrounded by young, bald, tattooed Chicanos who eyed him up and down.

“Gotta name?” the youngest of the four asked in Spanish. Hunter pegged him to be in his early twenties, the oldest was maybe thirty. He looked at him carefully to see if he recognized him. He didn’t.

“Yeah. I gotta name,” Hunter said. “Who’s asking?”