Loco – Cheap Thrills Read Online Mary B. Moore

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Mary B. Moore Advertisement

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I had two little humans in the back seat who didn’t care about corrupted chain-of-command charts or stop-and-search discrepancies. They just wanted dinner, cartoons, and a story before bed. And right now, they needed me. Not the detective, not the guy burning down dirty corners of the department—just me.

I pulled up in front of the house, headlights washing over the front porch. Habit had me glance across the street to Sayla’s place.

Still dark.

I frowned. Her car wasn’t in the drive, and none of the porch lights were on. She usually left one on, especially with the contractors still going in and out. I reached for my phone and typed a quick message before unbuckling.

You okay? Your house is dark. Is everything good?

For a second, I hesitated before hitting send, a tight feeling curling in my gut. Maybe something had gone wrong with the renovations again—or worse, perhaps something had happened to her.

The kids were laughing before I even opened the door. As soon as I lifted them out of their seats and got them inside, both dogs barreled toward us, tails wagging like they'd been gone a week instead of a few hours.

“Okay, okay,” I laughed, setting Kaida down as Kairo dropped to his knees to greet them. “We missed you too, guys.”

Even the grump, Dog, sat watching from his perch on the windowsill like some judgmental older man. He hadn’t entirely accepted the new world order yet. But then Kaida walked up to him slowly, gentle as anything, and reached out to stroke the top of his head.

Dog blinked at her. Then, in a rare moment of complete surrender, he rolled onto his back and exposed his belly.

My eyes widened. “Wow, you’re officially part of the family, Kaida. He doesn’t do that for anyone.”

She giggled and dropped to her knees beside him, and for a second, everything else faded—just the warmth of the house, the echo of tiny feet, and the soft thud of dog tails against the floor.

I picked up the mail on the way to the kitchen, flipping through the usual junk and bills. One envelope caught my eye—plain, with no return address, and postmarked locally. I slit it open without thinking.

Inside was a single photo.

Me, standing outside the daycare with Kaida on my hip and Kairo holding my hand.

My heart slowed, then sped up, beating hard and heavy in my chest.

I stared at it for a beat before pulling out my phone and snapping a picture. Then, I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a Ziploc bag from the drawer, and sealed both the photo and envelope inside. Then, I slid it into the cupboard with the cups in it until I had time to bring it in.

Me: I just got this in the mail. There is no return address. It is a photo of me dropping the kids off.

I hit send to Judd with the picture attached, and within seconds, his reply buzzed through.

Judd: Bring it all in tomorrow. Make sure your alarms are on tonight.

I already had. The day after they were installed, I shared access to the feeds and alarm sign-ins with him, and he monitored them like a hawk.

Still, the message settled in the pit of my stomach like a stone.

I turned to the stove and started pulling things from the fridge for dinner, listening to Kaida babble to the cat and Kairo explaining something very serious to one of the dogs. My world had changed, and someone out there was watching.

Let them watch because I’d die before I let anything happen to these kids.

And they’d have to go through me—and a whole lot worse—before they ever touched the kids or Sayla.

Dinner was simple—homemade chicken nuggets cut into little dino shapes because apparently that made them taste better. I’d made extra, too, a few plain ones set aside on a separate plate. Kairo and Kaida were on official treat duty, getting to hand-feed the dogs and try to tempt Dog with a bit of chicken (he sniffed it, blinked slowly, and walked away like the food offended him personally).

I was just about to start plating up when my phone buzzed on the counter.

Sayla: At Evie’s tonight. We need to talk tomorrow. I have something to show you.

I frowned, the shift in my stomach immediate.

Me: Is everything okay? Do I need to worry?

It took a minute before her reply came through.

Sayla: Alex and DB have it covered. Don’t stress.

Which, naturally, made me stress more.

Before I could spiral, my phone buzzed again—this time a message from Alex.

Alex: She’s here. She’s safe. Don’t worry.

A second later, another from DB.

DB: All good. You’ll get the full story tomorrow. She’s in good hands.

I stared at the screen for a moment, jaw tight, thumb hovering over my phone like I could squeeze more information out of it. But Alex and DB were solid. If they said she was okay, I believed them. Still, the fact that she wasn’t at home and hadn’t said much didn’t sit right.

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