Watching Zoe drive away, Jack didn't rush to start the car. Instead, he took out his phone and called Lucy, telling her what had happened. He repeatedly emphasized that Nolan was not in mortal danger, finally managing to reassure Lucy, who wanted to visit him in the hospital. He promised to go with her after work the next day before hanging up.
Driving ho, Jack shook his head inwardly, thinking, 'What a ss! I, a 21-year-old future elite police officer, have been turned into a worrywart middle-aged man, fretting over all this ridiculous emotional turmoil. While gossip is entertaining, nothing beats the romance with the mature Zoe or the perks Hannah gives . Oh, and I almost forgot about Maureen, the glasses-wearing girl.'
Back ho, it was almost midnight. The bloodstains on Jack's clothes startled Hannah. After briefly explaining what had happened, he went upstairs to take a shower, then cooked so wontons for a late-night snack, chatting with Hannah as they ate.
"Why are you always able to handle these situations so calmly? You're not like a rookie at all. Even if I were there, I couldn't guarantee I'd handle it as well as you." Hannah expressed her regret for not going out for drinks with Jack tonight so she could stay ho and play gas.
"Go to bed early, don't stay up too late. There might be a big operation tomorrow." After washing the dishes, Jack noticed Hannah's slightly swollen lips from dipping them in chili oil. A sudden impulse struck him, and he leaned down to kiss her.
Watching her large, watery eyes gradually well up with tears, Jack knew he was in trouble. Although he hadn't fired a shot today, the aftereffects seed to be lingering. He was now definitely going to be labeled a two-timing scumbag.
"If you can't eat spicy food, eat less next ti."
Forcibly withdrawing his right hand, which had sohow found its way around her, Jack awkwardly offered a nonsensical explanation and fled.
Hannah, her face flushed, crossed her arms and stared blankly for a while before collapsing onto the sofa, burying her head in the cushions with a silly grin and letting out a soft, kitten-like whimper.
The next day, Jack drove to the police station. As he approached the briefing room, he saw Zoe and a bloodshot-eyed Commander Gray conducting roll call through the glass.
"What happened?" Jack stopped Lucy, who was about to enter the room.
"Tim's wife, Isabella, was found two hours ago in an alley, shot in the head, and is currently in surgery."
"The DEA has located the killer's hideout, and the police are preparing to apprehend him." Lucy spoke rapidly, and the two then entered the briefing room together.
Within minutes, everyone had arrived, and Commander Gray began his briefing: "The suspect's na is Vance Marcus, and he's highly likely hiding in a storage facility in the South Gate area. DEA Detectives Wolf and Vistella, along with patrol officers from the district, will be conducting a search."
He then looked at Jack and his group: "The rest of you will head to the Bronson Building. Intelligence indicates that Vance's girlfriend, Cecilia Olivier, lives there, but the exact address isn't known, aning we'll have to check each apartnt."
Zoe added, "Be careful; the checks are extrely risky. Vance is a major drug lord, and his criminal organization is fully ard. They won't easily surrender to the police, so please look out for each other and be mindful of your personal safety during the mission."
"Also, I just called the hospital. Nolan's bullet has been removed, and he's expected to recover in about two weeks without any aftereffects. However, due to his absence, Hannah will temporarily take his place, teaming up with Bishop. Lucy and Jack will remain with their respective training officers. There are many residents in the building, so it's not recomnded to bring rifles, but each of you can bring two extra magazines and prepare your own spare guns."
Everyone acknowledged the orders and set off. After Jack collected his equipnt from the armory, Hannah, who was waiting at the door, handed him a holster: "I made this a couple of days ago using the best calfskin from my farm. Try it on your Python."
Jack's heart skipped a beat. As the saying goes, it's hardest to accept kindness from a beautiful woman. He had treated her so badly yesterday, and now she was being so kind to him. It was truly embarrassing. However, it wouldn't be appropriate to say anything in this situation, so he could only whisper a reminder to be careful before quickly catching up with Angela.
Today, Angela was driving, and Jack, sitting in the passenger seat, started packing his gear, inserting bulletproof plates into his body armor, putting on his armpit holster, and adjusting it. Hannah's craftsmanship was impeccable; the Python gun Hunter had given him fit perfectly, not hindering his daily movents at all.
Angela, sitting beside him, paid no attention to the exquisitely crafted armpit holster; her attention was completely drawn to his Python. This tomboy, more manly than most n, imdiately swore.
"Fuck, where did you get such a great gadget?"
Ever since Jack demonstrated his proficient-level pistol shooting skills in the parking lot, Angela hadn't gone target practicing with him again. Of course, this guy still shalessly insisted that she pay for lunch, claiming that Jack's excellent performance that day was thanks to her special coaching over the past few days. And Jack, to avoid appearing ostentatious, had only secretly fired a few rounds at the shooting range and had never shown off this work of art in public.
"Rick Hunter was an old friend of my parents'. I visited him the other day, and he said I needed a spare gun, so he gave it to ."
"You actually know that legendary old cop? That's incredible. These custom-made high-end guns are practically priceless." Angela's big eyes almost turned into hearts.
"Uncle Hunter said the price for a custom-made one was over $2,500 back then, and now it's more than double that."
As he spoke, Jack handed the Python to Angela, who was practically drooling. He took out a box of .357 Magnum bullets, filled all five revolver speed loaders, and then stuffed them into the bullet pouch on his belt.
"Are you preparing for war?" Angela glanced at him sideways. They each carried four spare magazines, plus the ones already in their guns, giving each of them 75 rounds of Glock 22 .40 ammo. Jack had even prepared an extra 30 rounds of high-powered Magnum ammo for his spare gun, which was quite extravagant.
"No matter how many bullets I have, I don't think I'll have enough for drug dealers." He vaguely rembered today's scene; he was certain he'd be on at least three days of administrative leave afterward.
"I've never seen you take out your spare gun before. What model is it?" Jack asked curiously.
Angela reluctantly handed the Python back to him, patting her chest: "A Beretta 950, a gift I gave myself when I turned 16."
Noticing the slightly strange look in Jack's eyes, she chuckled: "My bra is specially made; it's perfect for putting this gun in."
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