A/N: You can read ahead up at my Patreon, along with other stories I wrote but never published before. Thank you for reading!
Episode 36
Jack Routh
His clothes were fine.
He didn't know why he had to upgrade his current wardrobe, but apparently Zoe, with support from Reese, Pam, and Taylor, decided that he needed to buy new clothes. Apparently, Old Navy and Walmart weren't going to cut it out anymore.
No matter, he learned over the year of meeting his wife that he would just allow her to do what she wanted at that moment, and then slowly move back to his old habits. Royal lineage or not, he was still the same person, and it didn't change who he was or how he was going to behave. This was all thanks to that stupid People magazine.
"This is a super 150." The tailor proclaimed as he was again forced into another three-piece suit. It felt comfortable, and he had to admit it felt better on his body compared to the suits he got in New York.
"Perfect." Zoe walked around him, and he gave a tired smile. Zoe was treating him like a doll at this point, and he was about to stage a rebellion. Then all thoughts of leaving the exclusive clothing store vanished when he felt a kiss from Zoe, followed by her hand giving his ass a quick grope and a whisper in his ear.
"I promise you'll enjoy the dresses I picked." She breathed into his ear. "Some are… revealing."
Zoe must have sensed his growing impatience and gave him a bone. He stared at his wife right in the eye and raised an eyebrow.
"How revealing?" He asked, keeping his voice low enough that only his wife could hear him.
"Sheer enough that under the proper lighting, you could see basically everything." Zoe winked.
Intrigued, thoughts of Zoe in a classy, sheer dress flashed in his mind. His wife always had a high sex drive, but lately she was more amorous and daring than before. She even initiated passionate kisses inside her office, something he really enjoyed receiving. It made starting his second shift better.
"No making out in the exclusive boutique." He heard Pam pipe up.
Zoe rolled her eyes and stepped back from him, just as the elderly man returned with another set of clothes for him to test fit.
He endured the clothes fitting for half an hour more and collapsed on the couch once it was all over.
"Don't be a baby." Taylor gave him a teasing grin. "You're the sexiest man alive, so act the part."
That stupid magazine was the primary reason for all of this. The brass practically begged him to participate in the proposed article, and he finally agreed after setting some conditions. He could see the magazine was trying to use the opportunity to milk the attention currently focused on him since the revelation of his ancestry. Even the president of the country was chiming in, but he knew the man just wanted a distraction and to take the heat off himself.
The President was embroiled in a current scandal with allegations regarding a Girl Scout who was visiting the white house. The man was denying it, claiming it was an attack from his political rival. Elections were near, and the president was gunning for a second term, but news of what happened in the Oval Office had the potential to sink his political career, and already his ten-digit lead at the polls had practically vanished overnight. He had even heard rumors that they were positioning forces closer to Albania due to some threat to the country. To him, they were all distractions for the public.
"This isn't just for the shoot." Zoe reminded him. "Remember, you're about to meet your uncle soon."
"And you need something better than a suit meant for government agents," Taylor added. "Don't you like it?"
"It's more comfortable." He admitted. "I'm just not used to wearing clothes like that."
"Well, you'd better get used to it." Zoe reminded him. "We'll have a full schedule this week."
He was meeting the ambassador from the Dutch government first time in a fancy hotel restaurant. According to their embassy staff, the meeting was in preparation for his audience with his uncle, and he was also told to bring his lawyer.
He ate lunch with his wife at her favorite restaurant, ordering triple servings for himself. While the girls ate and chatted, he decided to walk off his lunch by the beach and gave nods of acknowledgement to Taylor's hidden security team members that littered the area. He had to admire how discreet they were and how well they blended in. If he weren't that observant, he would have thought the couple hanging out by a nearby bench were just out on a date and not highly trained, former law enforcement officers.
Taylor herself used a clever disguise, with large aviator shades, minimal make-up, and a Dodgers cap to hide her features. With Zoe, Pam, and Reese with her, she didn't stand out as much inside the restaurant.
"Jack!" A familiar blonde greeted him when he passed by a lifeguard tower, and he immediately recognized the blonde waving at him. He waved back and headed to the wooden structure built on the beach.
He rarely saw Ashley these days, ever since she was rotated to another section of the beach. It was a pleasant surprise to see the blonde again, and he waved, and as soon as he got near, he gave her a friendly hug.
"Look at you!" Ashley beamed up at him. "It felt like it was only yesterday when you were jogging in my station every morning, and now everyone talks about this hidden prince in L.A.!"
"I'm not a prince." He shook his head. "I may be related to them, but it doesn't give me the titles they have."
"Still, having that lineage from your parents is still impressive." Ashley insisted. "How are you handling it all?"
"I'm still the same person." He replied. "And yes, while it's impressive to have such lineage, both families from my parents have controversial histories."
He didn't have to explain to Ashley the legacies of the house of Orange-Nassau and the Mountbattens. The blonde was a lover of history as well, and she even had a Bachelor of Arts in History, Law, and Culture.
"It's still a fascinating subject. I even traced your connection to the British Royal family." Ashley turned to look at the beach and made a sound of disapproval. "Those guys, I swear, they do this every time."
It was a slow day, and the surfers weren't present since the waves were only good enough to surf during the mornings at this time of year.
A few college kids were just throwing Frisbees at each other while another group of guys were trying to dig a hole in the sand. It looked like they were trying to make a circular area where they could sit.
"Isn't that dangerous?" He asked. He had heard stories of pits collapsing, burying, and killing their unfortunate victims.
"They don't dig it deep enough." Ashley explained. "They always make this circular sitting area where they drink beer. Technically, it's illegal, but as long as they don't make a racket and disturb the others, I generally look the other way."
"And what about the hole they dug?"
"They cover it up when they're done, and even if they do a sloppy job, the tide fixes that at night." Ashley explained.
"How about you?" He asked her. "How are you doing?"
"Dad still doesn't want to retire." Ashley complained. Her father, Officer Jerry McGrady was one of the oldest officers in Mid-Wilshire and was well-liked by the other officers. He also knew his weapon systems, and he trusted the older man with the maintenance of his firearms. "And I just broke up with my boyfriend. I won't date another lifeguard again."
"Then you should join us tonight." He suggested. "It's just a few cops, and you know Angela."
Ashley looked like she needed a proper night out, and he was going with Tim, Angela, and Wesley to a popular bar for dinner and drinks. He and Wesley were trying to console Tim after he had broken up with his girlfriend, Rachel, and it looked like the man needed it.
The blonde perked up and grinned. "Angela's a detective now, right?"
"She is." He nodded his head. "And she'll be glad to see you again."
"Deal." Ashley nodded. "Just text me the location, and I'll be there."
Ashley McGrady
She watched with a wistful smile on her face as Jack headed down the lifeguard station's steps and made his way back to the row of restaurants that lined the beach. There was a time when she thought she had a shot with him, but that changed when she saw how serious he was with his relationship with the police captain of Mid-Wilshire.
She tried dating a fellow lifeguard from a different shift, but that changed when she visited him in his shift and caught him making out with his assigned partner at the lifeguard tower. The invitation from Jack seemed promising.
Jack said they were going out to help distract Tim because of his recent breakup. She knew of the handsome and strict training officer from her dad, but never talked to him in person before. Perhaps she could distract herself too, and she made a plan to buy a new outfit suitable for a night out right after her shift. She deserved it anyway.
Heading to the bar that Jack told her about didn't start on the right foot. Her old jeep refused to start until her dad came home and helped jumpstart it. The AC was barely working, and she had a hard time finding a good parking spot. She finally found one after thirty minutes of driving around, and she was not surprised to be the last person to arrive.
It looked like they were already buzzed, aside from Jack and Tim. She received a warm greeting from the group and dove in with the remaining food and ordered her drink, eager to catch up.
"Ashley, right?" She was fortunate enough to sit between Tim and Jack, total hunks the two of them. Tim didn't look like he was suffering from heartbreak though, and his smile was real when he greeted her when he arrived.
"Your dad talks about you all the time." The senior training officer continued.
"What did he tell you?" She asked.
"Well, he always complains that you wanted him to resign." Tim's smile was cute, and she responded in kind. "He also calls you his little fairy."
She rolled her eyes at his teasing. Her dad continued to use the nickname he had for her since she started pre-school and refused to use anything else.
"He's old." She replied. "I don't want him to get hurt."
"He's usually assigned to the armory or the front desk." Tim shared. "Besides, you should let Jerry continue doing what he loves. We all watch out for him, even the Captain."
She never met Jack's wife, and only heard about her through other cops and her father. The beautiful and stern Captain, who didn't have time for bullshit and nonsense. She still couldn't believe such a woman had married a guy her age.
"Really?" She replied.
"Captain makes sure Jerry's never assigned the physically demanding roles." Tim revealed. "Besides, he has a wealth of knowledge, and we all respect him for his experience. He's the one who hooked me up with my first C.I. in Mid-Wilshire when I got assigned here."
"He really did that?"
"He's generous like that." Tim answered. "Anyone else can see how much being a cop means to him, and we respect him more for it."
Well, if that were the case, she'd tone down her comments regarding her dad's choices. She gave a nod to Tim and emptied her beer.
As the night wore on, she spent most of her time speaking with Tim. Her knowledge of police work made conversation with the man easier, and she was pleased when he invited her to a gun range for the weekend. She claimed she was a good shot, and Tim wanted to see it in person.
The journey home was the exact opposite of the one she had on the way to the bar. Her car started at the first turn of the ignition, and the traffic was light. She was home in under half an hour and found her dad sleeping in his usual chair while his favorite program was still being played out on the TV.
She didn't turn it off, her dad had gotten used to the background noise years ago. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek and wrapped a blanket around him. She stared at his sleeping face for a moment and promised herself to prepare his favorite breakfast the next morning.
She headed to the bed after taking a shower, eager to prove to Tim how good she was with a gun.
Matthew Garza
The notes were disturbing.
Whoever was sending the threats to the Miss California 2018 pageant was real. There was even an attempt on a county representative, but that was foiled due to the bomb placed inside her car failing to explode. That sent an alert to all government agencies, and now he was here in California, coordinating a task force to catch this domestic terrorist.
Familiar faces arrived one by one, including Ms. Russo from Homeland Security, Captain Cortez from Metro, and even a representative from DEA. He hid his smile when Captain Andersen arrived, followed by her famous husband, who looked confused.
He allowed the group to mingle for at least five minutes, and was not surprised as almost everyone made a beeline towards Jack.
"I'm still not sure why you requested my presence here." Jack told him after he shook the younger man's hand.
"You'll find out soon." He replied. "You're still listed as an FBI consultant, Officer Routh."
The meeting began without any fanfare. Without any politicians in the room, there wasn't any reason to butter up anyone.
"Thank you all for coming." He stood up, and the lights turned off as the projector came to life. He felt dozens of eyes on him, but he didn't let it affect him, being used to conducting high-level meetings like these for years.
"There's a threat to the Miss California USA pageant." He began. His tech assistant started changing the slide to a picture of a pretty brunette in her early twenties.
"Charlotte Vega, 22, from Santa Clara County. She found an I.E.D. inside her car last week. There was a letter left in her mailbox, written in some form of Medieval English."
I am fell about this pageantry. This scandalous f'rm of displaying distaff's bodies is an affront to the dignity of the corse and the soul. How far we has't fallen to loseth our m'rals in the present day's society. Woe to the w'rld. This f'rm of prostitution wilt cease immediately 'r else m're punishment shalt cometh.
The gentleman.
He saw the moment Jack Routh perked up from his seat as the image of the handwritten letter was displayed. It was written in parchment, and the writing in fancy cursive. Their experts even theorized that whoever wrote this used an actual quill.
"Is that Shakespeare?" Jessica Russo asked.
"That's early modern English." Jack answered. "It was spoken from the 15th century to the 17th century. That's the time period William Shakespeare was also born in."
"Thank you, Officer Routh." He gave a nod to the younger man. The bureau's academics took an hour to properly analyze the contents, while it just took mere seconds for Routh to determine the correct timeframe.
"As you can see, this Gentleman claims that the pageantry is an affront to morality." He stated. "Our experts believe this person used a quill to write on parchment."
"They used a fountain pen." Jack's voice echoed across the room. "A quill' nib needs to be dipped in ink every three words. That's why old letters from that period have inconsistent thickness in the lines, while this one doesn't."
He exchanged an amused smile with his fellow agents seated at the front. Once again, their prospect was making a mockery of the agency's experts. He was glad that this meeting was being recorded, and he couldn't wait to see the faces of those smug experts when they reviewed this meeting. He'd make sure they watch it, even their department head.
"I see, thank you, Officer Routh." He gave the younger man a nod.
"Miss Vega has understandably withdrawn due to her fear for her safety, but the organizers are still determined to push through with the pageant." He looked around the room and saw the worries on everyone's face. "This gives us an opportunity to insert an agent with one of our own. Agent Page, please stand up."
Agent Angela Page stood up and turned around, and gave a wave to the people in the room. She was the practical choice, young, pretty, and an FBI agent for about six months, and was recently assigned to his field office. He noted the bright smile she gave Jack and how the man gave her a wave of greeting in turn. Did they know each other? Perhaps this could be useful…
Jack Routh
"We'll form a task force for the pageant." He continued listening to Garza. He was already curious about this gentleman. It was still too early for a profile, but his gut told him whoever this was, they were faking it. The words used in the letter were too accurate.
Memories from Lucy Worsley, including countless hours analyzing ancient letters and artifacts, informed him that they weren't that straightforward and perfect in their selection of words. That meant whoever this person was, they studied history and knew the correct time period to accurately construct the letter. He had to know more.
"And with that, let me make a proposal." Gaarza continued speaking. "We'll inform the pageant organizers that we will have one of our most insightful, capable, and tenacious law enforcement officers in the country join the investigation."
"Agreed." Jessica Russo nodded in approval. "They'll calm down and be more cooperative if they see how serious we are."
"And the speed of the investigation will increase dramatically." Angela Page added.
"That's a good idea." He added. "But who are you planning to send?"
He was confused when no one spoke. He looked from one amused FBI agent to a giggling DHS agent across from him and turned to his wife. Zoe and Captain Cortez wore suppressed grins, and he turned to the podium and noticed that Garza was also smiling in his direction.
He realized they were all looking at him.
Jack Routh
"There is no B3 bomber."
"I'm not sure about that." Nolan replied. "I mean, we don't know what's happening in Area 51."
The older man suddenly snapped his fingers. "That's it! They must be using that in Albania!"
They were using an unmarked car for the first time since his shop was due for maintenance. It was purely a coincidence that the current sedan he was driving was his wife's old service vehicle that she used to drive when they were still living in their respective apartments. He had some memorable experiences in that car with Zoe.
"Why are you smiling?" Nolan asked him.
He realized he was remembering what he did to Zoe in the back seat months ago, before they were even engaged, and shook his head in reply. He and Zoe were really testing the suspension of this car back then. "Nothing. So what was that about the Albanians?"
"There are rumors in the tabloids about Albanian terrorists using the lightly guarded Canadian border to get inside the country. Reports say that they have a suitcase with a nuclear dirty bomb." Nolan shared.
It was a ridiculous plot and he couldn't believe some people would for that. At this point, he was sure that this was all just a ploy to distract the public from the President's scandal.
"That can't be real." He replied. He knew how difficult it was to weaponize a nuclear bomb and even fit it all inside a suitcase. "You've been watching too many movies."
"I'll show you the article at the end of our shift." John insisted. "It was really well written."
"I'll take a look at it." He wasn't expecting much.
They spent an hour more in patrol, and John made an unexpected comment. "At least our first time in patrol together as P2s is quiet."
Immediately after John finished speaking, their radio blared out a warning from dispatch.
"7-adam-7, be advised, a high-speed pursuit of a motorcycle is currently in progress and is approaching your patrol route."
"It is real. Damn." Nolan suddenly looked worried. "Sorry, Jack."
"What's real?" He asked. He could hear the distant sirens growing louder as he approached an intersection.
"I'll tell you later about the curse," John replied and took over the radio. "Dispatch, where is the suspect now?"
"Suspect has just turned onto Highland Avenue."
"We're on Highland Avenue." His patrol partner muttered under his breath.
He ignored Nolan and checked his mirror, lowered his window, and listened carefully for the sirens. There, he could pick out the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle engine's exhaust. In his rearview mirror, he spotted a big bike slowing down as it weaved through traffic and split lanes, nearly scratching cars as it passed by. The rider ignored the angry honks from the other drivers and just continued weaving at a slower pace.
"Dispatch, what's the model and color of the bike?" He asked.
"There's a Yamaha logo, and a blue and white paint job."
"That has to be our suspect." Nolan looked eager as he looked behind him, straining his neck to get a better view. "What are we going to do?"
"Look for an opportunity. He won't avoid us." He replied and moved the car a bit so that he would be close enough to their target, yet maintaining space for the bike to pass through on his side. "We'll use that to our advantage."
Pretty soon, the motorcycle arrived as he predicted. It slowed to a stop just beside him, the rider looking for a gap in the traffic. He had to time this right.
He moved quickly, reached out of his window, and grabbed a hold of the back of the man's jacket just as the suspect twisted the throttle. The bike accelerated like a bullet, but its rider remained firmly on his grip. The man looked surprised as he crashed to the ground in a heap.
He turned on the lights just as Nolan jumped out of the passenger side door and pointed his firearm at the rider.
"Police! Remain on the ground and put your hands behind your back!" Nolan shouted.
The man looked surprised at what happened, judging from how wide his eyes were from what he could see through the visor, and remained on the ground.
The riderless bike skidded to a halt in the middle of the intersection, creating a traffic hazard. Other shops from another station arrived and quickly secured the intersection to prevent any traffic accidents.
"I'm never using that word again." Nolan promised as he placed the cuffs on the suspect.
"Stupid Cager." The suspect muttered.
"What does that mean?" Nolan asked as he removed the suspect's helmet, revealing a man around his age.
"It's a slang term for car drivers." He answered. He noticed the man was surprised.
"Yeah, I'm a rider too." He told the suspect. "Stand up, squid."
"I'm no squid!" The suspect protested.
"You certainly ride like one." He replied. "I've seen better balance from a four year girl old with a Barbie bike."
"Fuck you." The suspect spat on the ground.
He turned the man over to a waiting police officer who looked extremely relieved.
"Thanks." The officer from what looked like another station spoke up while his partner transferred the suspect to their shop. "We've been chasing this guy for over half an hour."
"What did he do?" He asked.
"Robbed a mini-grocery." The officer replied. "And broke a dozen traffic laws in his attempted escape, and caused two car crashes in the process."
Nolan got his cuffs back, and the suspect still looked angry as he continued glaring at him. He ignored the man and helped move the bike out of the middle of the intersection and onto the curb. Hopefully, his next patrol solo would be more peaceful.
Camille Vasquez
She reminded herself to get taller heels the next time she would accompany her client to a meeting. She wasn't a short person, but walking next to Jack and Zoe made her feel how inadequate her two-inch heels were.
They were headed to a fancy hotel restaurant, and the man Jack was about to meet requested that he bring his lawyer, her, to look over some paperwork. She was happy that she got out of the office for the day. Seriously, she needed a better working location, and she was getting tired of the smell of smoke from the restaurant on the ground floor sticking to her clothes at the end of the day.
Maybe it was time to change locations, and her client could certainly afford it. She just needed him to agree.
Thoughts of a nice, posh location changed when she saw the people her client was supposed to meet. This was supposed to be an informal meeting! Why was the ambassador of the Netherlands here with an entire delegation more suited for some economic summit? She suddenly felt unprepared and exchanged apprehensive looks with Jack, but his wife Zoe seemed to brush off the unexpected situation and headed inside the luxurious private room.
"Mister Jacques-Henry, or as I understand, Jack Routh." The older man greeted her client warmly. "We are very pleased to meet you in person. Jozef Van den Burg"
"Pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Van den Burg. I thought this was an informal affair." Jack returned the handshake.
"It is." The older man with the impressive silver mustache replied with a smile. "Just Jozef, please."
"How about we have an early lunch before we get to business?" The man suggested. "I am told they have excellent food here."
The food was indeed excellent, and the service even better. Ambassador Van den Burg was very polite, and one of his staff, Annie Meijer, cozied up to Zoe as they discussed several issues regarding law enforcement policies. She was drawn to her conversation with one of the embassy staff, and she realized later that this was done on purpose.
The ambassador and his staff wanted their party to relax and lower their guard. She didn't know why. Sure, her client was their head of state's nephew and part of the royal family of their country, but this warm reception couldn't be the reason for their treatment.
As if answering her question, Van den Burg brought the primary topic for their meeting forward as their empty plates were taken away, replaced by dessert, coffee, and tea. Damn, those macaroons looked exquisite.
One of the staff pulled out a stack of paperwork, containing asset declarations, contracts, and identity papers, her element. She gleamed, eager to peer into the information within.
"To business then, and why we are meeting in the first place." Van den Burg gave them a nod. "We need you to sign a few documents, and of course, Ms. Vasquez should take a look first."
With the attention now focused on her, she took the first folder from the pile and reviewed it as she sipped her coffee. It was written in both English and Dutch, and she narrowed her eyes at what was declared. It looked like Jacques-Henry's death certificate was now null and void, declaring him alive.
"It took a few emergency sessions by our parliament, but we got that paperwork done as swiftly as possible." Annie Meijer shared.
"Legally, you were declared dead, along with your original identity." She explained to Jack. "This document, passed by their parliament into law, declares that the previous document is void."
"Of course, you can still use your current name." Van den Burg added. "This, however, shows you are one and the same person. And that means you are also a citizen of our country."
"So I have a dual citizenship." Jack noted.
"Correct."
The next document was the parents' will. That changed the mood in the room, and since she was sitting beside her client, she was able to spot the moment when Zoe intertwined her fingers with her husband to offer comfort. She focused first on Jack's father, and her mouth dropped in shock as she reviewed what Jack was entitled to inherit.
"This can't be right." She muttered out loud.
"What's wrong?" Jack asked.
She thought Jack was wealthy already, working with Taylor's label on the side despite donating a vast majority of it to his charity foundation. This… this was on a whole other level.
"Jack's paternal family has acquired various sources of wealth throughout the centuries." Van den Burg shared.
Her client now had stocks in leading global companies, properties, and a lot of zeroes in bank accounts. This was incredible! This… this was generational wealth! The room started spinning. She couldn't comprehend such a large amount of money, and this was just her client's inheritance!
There were a lot of rumors about Jack's family ever since his lineage was revealed by his royal uncle. What she was seeing here right at this moment blew all those speculations by TV show pundits out of the water. Damn. She thought her client was a big fish already, but it turned out that he was part of a family of mythical krakens that lurk in the deep, unseen and unheard, until now.
"And we're still trying to arrange for the Mountbattens' side, for Jack's mother." Annie revealed.
That meant there was still more to come? She briefly looked at the couple and realized how incredibly lucky Zoe was to land Jack. This was more than just winning the lottery!
As she reviewed more and more documents, she was amazed at how spread out Jack's family's wealth was. They had a little bit in everything, from petroleum, medical, shipping, hotels, tech companies, and even in media. Her eyes zeroed in on one of the assets.
"Jack, I suggest you get a boat, or learn how to pilot a plane." She joked.
"What for?" Jack asked.
"To get to your villa, of course." She answered.
"I own a villa?" Jack looked genuinely shocked.
"In Martinique, in the Caribbean." Van den Burg answered. "It's currently being maintained by your uncle, waiting for you to take possession."
"We have to visit that." Zoe looked intrigued. Who wouldn't? Even she wanted to come.
"It looks like we have a trip ahead of us." Jack even stared at her, and she realized her client was thinking of including her for his travel plans. Sweet!
"We'll be in contact once you finish reviewing those documents." The ambassador promised. "I believe his majesty will want to meet you in Martinique after the New Year. He believes he can help you with details regarding your… past."
"We'll clear our schedule." Zoe nodded in agreement after she shared a look with Jack.
They left the meeting in high spirits. Meanwhile, she was mentally reviewing who she could hire to manage Jack's estate. She would need a couple of accountants and perhaps another lawyer to work for her. She had a lot of work ahead, but luckily, Jack was one of those clients that lawyers always dream of. Easy to talk to, organized, and he wasn't willing to shy away from spending when it mattered the most.
First things first, she needed a new office space. The room above the Ethiopian restaurant beside Wesley's wasn't going to work out anymore.
Jack Routh
This was going to be one of these days. While he waited for the recently formed task force for the pageant to set up, he continued his patrol schedule for the week. He knew it since responding to the call about an escaped pair of Dobermans terrorizing a neighborhood. Animal control was still responding to another call, so it was his job to drive up and down the neighborhood to make sure no one got hurt.
"Stay indoors." He used the speaker system hooked up to his shop as he drove up and down the street. "Aggressive dogs are on the loose. Please stay indoors."
He could see faces through the windows looking at him as he drove by. The dog's owners were outside at their yard, trying to all back the two escaped dogs.
The wife was holding a towel to her wrist, having been bitten by one of the dogs as they escaped. He told her to go to the hospital to get checked, but the couple was insistent that they stay and help.
He turned to a corner and cursed under his breath. A school bus had just pulled in, and he was about to shout to the driver through the speaker when the door opened and two kids jumped out, around six or seven by his estimate, and wearing matching pink backpacks.
He stepped on the gas and flashed his lights.
"Aggressive dogs on the loose! Get back to the bus!" He shouted as he stopped in front of the bus. The bus driver looked confused, and the two girls looked were just standing around in front of their house, looking at him.
Two black burs caught his attention, and he realized it was the two Dobermans. They had their gazes locked on the two kids as their long strides quickly ate up the distance between them and their prey.
"Get in!" He opened the door to his passenger side, but the kids just stared at him, not understanding the danger they were in. Without any other choice, he jumped through the already open door and pushed the two girls behind him as the two Dobermans reached their position.
By their body language, he could already see how aggressive they were and jumped towards him without any hesitation. He caught the two dogs in mid-air and slammed their heads against each other, causing them to let out confused whines as they landed on the grass.
"Stay." He told them.
The two Dobermans, looking confused, started to run back to the bushes, with their tails between their legs, whining as they moved.
Seeing they were out of danger for the moment, he turned to the two kids, and he was not surprised when they started to cry.
"You're fine." He told the two who now clung to his legs and patted both on their heads. "The dogs are gone, you're safe."
He escorted the two to their door, where it looked like their older sister was waiting for them. The teen looked confused with his presence as she removed the headset from her ears.
"Cassie!" The older girl ran to her sister, quickly followed by the other girl. "There were dogs that were about to bite us!"
"There are a pair of dogs currently loose in your street." He told the teen. "Please keep your sisters indoors while we wait for animal control to get here."
"Of... of course, officer." The teen replied, looking flustered. It looked like she wanted to say more, but she remained silent, her wide eyes just focused on him as she absently patted the heads of her younger siblings.
He turned around and, after a quick word with the bus driver, he got back to his shop and headed back to the owners of the escaped dogs. It looked like his unique method of disciplining the runaway dogs had somewhat worked, as he noticed that the two Dobermans were now collared and back behind the chain link fence. They looked to have calmed down a bit, but they were still barking up at him when he got near.
"Thank you, officer." The husband looked relieved. "Was anyone bitten?"
"It was a close call." He replied and turned to the wife. "Ma'am, you have to get to the hospital to take a look at those bite wounds."
"We'll head to the hospital as soon as we secure them." The woman promised, her hand still wrapped by the bloody towel.
"I was upgrading their fence when they broke loose and just jumped out using the stack of construction materials." The older man looked ashamed. "They never acted like that before."
"We're going to have animal control check them for rabies." He shared. "All of this needs to be properly documented for my report."
"Whatever you need, Officer." The husband replied and turned to his wife. "Let's get that bite wound checked out, honey."
By the time he got home, he Zoe was already home, looking concerned.
"Jack, why are they calling you the dog tamer in the news?" His wife asked.
Zoe Andersen Routh
She didn't know why she was irritable lately. She even snapped at Smitty this morning after he made an inappropriate joke about women's periods during morning briefing. She could usually tolerate those and allowed some leeway.
Even Grey looked worried for a moment. Realizing she had lost her temper, she apologized to Smitty and retreated back to her office to get some peace and quiet.
Her door opened without the person knocking, and that usually meant only one person who was not afraid to face her wrath, and that was her husband.
"So they called in the cavalry." She raised an eyebrow as he entered her office. He should still be at home, since his meeting with the Pageant Task Force comprised of multiple agencies wouldn't start until noon. "Grey?"
"He told me you called Smitty the representative of the Halitosis Union." Her husband looked amused as he answered. "That's a new one."
"His breath stinks. And jokes about women's biological functions are highly inappropriate." She replied.
"You didn't go overboard, love. I was told Harper laughed the loudest after you left. Pity, I was still at home when that happened." Jack moved behind her and started massaging her tense shoulders. She relaxed her shoulders immediately. Jack had a way with his fingers, and she could feel the stress and tension melting away. His presence, even his own unique scent, was soothing.
She tilted her head to the side so he could reach the spot between her neck and shoulder. Yes. That was it. "Grey called me here because he was worried about you."
"Worried for me?" She asked. "No, I just got annoyed. And then his scent, does that man even shower?"
She was about to stand up when a wave of dizziness forced her to sit back down.
"Honey? What's wrong?" She could hear the worry in her husband's voice.
"Just got dizzy. I didn't have a proper breakfast this morning." She had to rush this morning, and was now regretting missing the simple breakfast Jack prepared.
"Drink a glass of water first." Jack took a bottle of water from her mini fridge and placed it in front of her. "You might be dehydrated too."
The cold liquid trickling down her throat helped immensely, and she realized her husband was right.
"Thanks, love." She replied. "Could you get me something sour for a late breakfast?"
"Sour?"
"Sweet and sour." She clarified. "I'm just craving it all of a sudden."
"I'll get something." Jack nodded. "Are you okay now?"
"Yes, I'm fine." She assured her husband. "Just hungry."
Jack quickly headed out of her office and she could hear his footsteps fade away even before the door had closed. She focused on the pile of paperwork waiting for her and started to review it, starting with the paper at the very top.
Three proposals in, and another visitor appeared. This time it was Angela Lopez.
"Report on the Granada Hills home invasion." Angela handed the folder. This was an investigation that their most senior detective, Caradine allowed the new detective to work on. She reviewed Lopez's files and was impressed by how thorough it was. A note from the bottom of one of the pages, written in Angela's handwriting, caught her attention.
"You believe the evidence has been tampered with?" She asked for clarification. "It says here that the case is closed with the death of that final drug member from the shootout at Mission Hills."
"Yes, Captain. It wasn't a home invasion like the news presented it." Angela explained. "However, I suspect the cameraman committed a crime by dragging the bodies to this spot and recording it so it would be more graphic. News stations like that type of stuff."
"And you believe that this Lou Bloom of this…Video Production News may have done it?"
"He sent the footage right away to KWLA, and withheld crucial evidence that could save lives." Angela looked annoyed. "Caradine told me I can investigate this only if you give me your approval."
"I'll give you a week." She answered. If what Angela was suspecting was true, then what that man had done meant he had just crossed a line, something that must not go unpunished. It made a mockery of their justice system and the LAPD as a whole.
"That's more than enough time, Cap." Angela looked pleased.
"And take Harper with you." She added. "Poor woman's getting bored while waiting for the new batch of rookies to arrive. Dismissed."
"Perfect." The Latina grinned and gave a smart salute before she left.
Jack Routh
"Just no." He replied in a flat tone.
"But you have to admit, being in close proximity to the contestants will give us more information." Agent Angela Page, now using the name Angela Rose Freebush replied while her hair was being cut by a stylist. The FBI was taking the threat to the pageant seriously and had gone all out by tapping a veteran pageant coach and her team to prepare her for the one-week event.
"Just think about it, Routh." Page added when he remained silent. The pageant organizers requested that he be a judge in one of the events in the preliminary rounds when they learned he was part of the task force. He knew they just wanted to use his fame to attract interest in the beauty pageant.
Garza, acting as the task force commander, did not reject the organizer's request right away. DHS agent Jessica Russo even commented that it was actually a good idea. He knew she had a point, since no one would question his presence in the pageant, and most would just think it was a publicity stunt to gain more viewers.
The domestic terrorist remained silent for now, and there were no follow-up letters despite the recent announcement from the pageant organizers of the confirmed date for the coronation night. They still didn't have a solid lead, and analysis of the letter showed there were no traces of DNA.
"I'll think about it." He finally replied. He looked at the undercover FBI agent with pity. She was currently being attended to by a manicurist who was taking care of her nails, while another was placing some green goop on her face that made her look like some swamp creature with foils attached to her hair. He couldn't talk to her seriously with how she currently looked, and that was the reason he stared at a spot about a foot above her head whenever he talked to her directly.
"You find my look amusing?" Page asked. She was scolded by a beautician when she raised an eyebrow.
"Hilarious." He grinned. "Anyway, I just passed by to let you know I'm done taking a look at the profiles of the pageant contestants."
"Is there anything that stood out?"
"A few." He replied. "The Fresno representative has a bad credit rating, and she's swamped with student loans. The one from Orange County has a record for trespassing."
"That's not enough." Page frowned.
"The woman's an activist. She and her group stormed a poultry farm and tried to sabotage the farm's operations." He shared. "She's extremely passionate about women's rights and a radical feminist."
"Why would a woman like that join Miss California?"
"That's the question. Is she here to sabotage the pageant?" He revealed. "We need to keep an eye on her too."
He spotted a figure out of the corner of his eye heading his way and turned to the FBI agent. "Anyway, I'll head back out."
"You're just avoiding her." Page let out a laugh.
"She's very… persistent." He shook his head in resignation. The pageant coach the bureau hired was very demanding and didn't take no for an answer. A former Miss USA a few decades ago and the current editor in chief of a fashion magazine, the woman in her fifties and constantly tried to engage him and kept trying to force him to attend fashion events with her, or appear on the cover of her magazine. "Anyway, I have to go check on the other candidates."
He barely made a dozen steps when he heard his name being called. He put on a smile on his face as he turned to the woman with the immaculate hair, expensive designer clothing, and stylish Prada red heels.
"Mrs. Priestly." He gave the older woman a polite nod.
"Jack, how often should I tell you to address me by name?" The woman smirked.
"Miranda." He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets in resignation.
"Better." The woman nodded in satisfaction. "Come, we have much to discuss about your role as a judge."
"I haven't even accepted the offer." He replied as he walked alongside her.
"As if you would reject it." Miranda scoffed and looked at him as she took off her expensive-looking shades. "You have to thank me for that, you know. I just whispered in a few ears and they immediately agreed to my suggestion."
Devious. The woman brought in by the FBI was supposed to be an expert on pageants and the fashion industry. He heard that she was very influential, and right now, he was seeing her power and influence in action right in front of him.
"So what do you think about that Hugo Boss piece I suggested?" Miranda asked. She held out a hand, and one of the two personal assistants who constantly followed handed her a thick binder. She opened it to a particular page and allowed him to see the concept.
"I took inspiration from Tom Ford." The woman shared. "Interested?"
"I'm not really a fan of the brand." He explained. The woman acted as if he had already agreed to do an exclusive interview with her magazine, complete with an elaborate photo shoot. He tried to explain to her that he wasn't interested, but the woman seemed deaf whenever he refused her offer.
No matter, he could just brush her off if she pushed too hard, though he had to admit that thanks to her manipulations, placing him as a judge would allow him a valid reason to be present during the duration of the pageant. No one would suspect that a task force was already present to ensure the security of the public and those participating in Miss California 2018.
He pulled out his phone and sent a message to Garza, agreeing to the organizer's proposal.
"You have something against Hugo Boss?" The older woman asked.
"It's brand tarnished by its history." He explained. "There's a reason the Wehrmacht had the best-looking uniforms during the Second World War. Even George Lucas, the creator of Star Wars, took inspiration from it and formed the Empire to match their color tones and general aesthetic."
"Wehrmacht?"
"It's composed of the unified armed forces of Nazi Germany, made up of its Heer, the army, Kriegsmarine, or Navy, and finally the Luftwaffe, their air force." He explained. "The name Wehrmacht originates from the German words Wehren which means to defend, and Macht, meaning power."
"I find it ironic that the Wehrmacht was used to invade other countries, despite the original meaning of its name." He accepted the plain black coffee from Emily, one of Miranda's assistants, as they both sat down at a nearby table filled with snacks.
"So, not just a pretty face." Miranda smirked. "I think I'll be the one to conduct and write your interview. It's been years since I've done one, but I believe you're worth it."
He was about to open his mouth to reply when the woman raised a finger.
"I know, I know. You're shy and you do not care about publicity." Miranda snapped her fingers and a moment later her own personal drink was placed in front of her by the other assistant. "Emily, get in touch with Armani. Tell them to submit a draft to my proposal."
"Yes, Miranda."
"I thought the other one was Emily?" He asked.
"I'm actually Andy." The younger brunette smiled. The smile vanished when the other assistant leaned over and whispered in her ear, and the two quickly left the area.
"What you're doing is naïve, Jack." Miranda continued speaking as if she wasn't interrupted. "You can't just ignore the attention you're gaining. You have to manage it properly, or else it can drown you."
"How?" He asked.
"Through carefully selected interviews and media appearances." The older woman replied. "You did well to limit your media appearances. That first interview with that reporter in Baltimore was a good start, but you need something that leaves a lasting impression. This is where the exclusive piece with me comes in."
He had to admit that she did have a point. The woman clearly knew what she was doing, and it would be stupid of him not to at least heed her advice.
"What's in it for you?" He asked.
Miranda smiled, leaned over, and patted him on the cheek.
"Darling, you're one of the country's famous sons with a heritage far older than the rest." The woman explained. "And with your feats of heroism, thanks to your job as a police officer, you have the fame and adoration that the useless prince and his wife desperately crave and failed to get from the public."
"So that's the reason they're here." He mused.
"Like a pair of lost tourists in the desert for days, they'll lap up any trickle of publicity like water." Miranda nodded. "I actually find it distasteful, and I'm not the only one who notices that."
The prince's wife, a woman called Meghan, would be judging the Miss America pageant next month. Whoever won the state competition would represent California in the nationwide pageant, and it was strange for a judge to be present for the local competition.
"I'll agree to your interview." He saw the first genuine smile on Miranda's face, ever since he met her. "But Zoe has to be there."
"Naturally." The older woman agreed instantly, and he could see the approval in her eyes. "That's what a faithful husband should do in the first place anyway. Anyway, I have to go now and see if Miss Page can walk this time in heels without tripping."
"She's not that bad."
"She walks like a frightened gazelle waiting for the lions to jump her at the Serengeti." Miranda replied. "We'll work out the details later. I'll have Emily contact you later."
He didn't bother to ask which Emily and watched the woman's confident stride back to their undercover agent as the team she brought with her avoided crossing her path. He finally breathed a sigh of relief. That woman was the most dominant and intimidating person he had ever met, and that included a notorious serial killer.
She didn't even have to raise her voice even once. Once she started speaking, the people around her shut up and listened. She just had this presence that screamed that they obey her instantly, like a medieval queen of old.
Zoe Andersen Routh
This would not do.
She wasn't a jealous woman. If she were, she would have cut off friendships with half of her friends, seeing as how they each had a crush on her husband. She even gave them a gift on the yacht, and that was how generous and confident she was.
But this was something else.
She narrowed her eyes as women, younger than her and in skimpy bikinis, strut their stuff in front of the three judges. Jack was on the right side, and she could see from all the TV screens that most of their gazes were on him.
They smiled, winked, and a few bold girls even gave flying kisses towards him, practically ignoring the other two judges. As expected, her husband's presence catapulted the state pageant to new levels. More news crews arrived, each one hoping to get an interview with her husband.
"Santa Clara County!"
She watched as the FBI undercover agent walked down the ramp, her blue-green bikini fitting her perfectly. She could immediately hear the comments from the agents from the task force inside the hotel room sitting beside her.
"Whoa! Is that Page?"
"Holy cow!"
"Damn, should have asked her out when I had the chance!"
Their woman on the inside merely smiled. She still looked nervous in her eyes, with her smile looking a little forced. Still, she earned a good round of applause from the audience, her toned physique making her stand out from the other contestants.
"Angela Rose Freebush is a Brazilian jiu jitsu black belt and is working as a kindergarten teacher."
The voice from the announcer blared out from the speakers. Page gave a twirl and walked back to the other contestants and made a pose with her hand on her hip and a bright smile on her face, showing off gleaming white teeth.
An hour later, and the events for the day finished, she waited patiently for her husband to return. She didn't have to wait long, though she noticed that Jack arrived at the room looking a bit flushed.
"Did you enjoy that?" She asked.
"Really?" Jack gave her a look. "Some reporters tried to ambush me after the event."
She let out a small squeak as Jack engulfed her in a hug, not caring for the four FBI agents currently in the room.
"Jack!" She yelped when he felt her squeeze her ass for a moment. She breathed in his familiar scent and relaxed a bit as she returned the hug with one of her own.
"It looks like you had your own party here." Her husband noted.
She blushed and looked at the used food containers in the hotel room. She was a bit ashamed to use FBI agents to get her food, but they volunteered when she said she was going to the restaurant a few blocks from the hotel. It looked like she wasn't the only one bored during the hours of the surveillance operation, and they also didn't like the food served here.
Once they were at the hotel lobby, she waited as Jack validated their parking with the front desk. Just as they were about to head to the parking area, they were interrupted by two men and a woman with a folder in her arms.
"This way, please." She raised an eyebrow as one of the men tried to guide them to a hallway by placing a hand behind Jack's back. "Her Royal Highness, the Duchess of Sussex, wishes to give you an audience."
Jack remained still, and she felt his arm around her waist slip off her as he confronted the two men and the woman.
"No." Jack replied.
"No? But she instructed…"
"It's quite rude of her to just demand a meeting without any warning." Her husband replied. "We're on a schedule. Please tell her Royal Highness that I decline her invitation."
"But that's not possible! The reporters…" The staff member argued back.
"Let's go, love." Jack guided her back to the exit, but they were once again stopped by the two men.
"Please!" The woman with the two begged. "This is really important!"
"We don't care." She replied in an icy tone, attracting three pairs of eyes to her. "May I remind you that we're police officers, and what you're trying to do is bordeline coercion and kidnapping?"
"Besides." Jack added and stepped forward, and looked down on the two men. "What are you going to do about it?"
The two men blocking their path looked at each other, shrugged, and stepped aside to clear a path.
"Consider this a warning." Jack placed a hand on one of the men's shoulders. "Clear?"
"Yes…. Yes sir." The man nodded.
"The nerve." She shook her head in amazement. "They must be really desperate."
"Miranda did warn me about them." Jack replied. She was still amazed that the intimidating woman, editor in chief of Runway magazine and private consultant for the FBI, was on good terms with her husband.
For the past few days, she was followed by one of the Emilys, named Andy, as they tried to prepare for the upcoming interview. The young girl was smart, a good researcher, and asked relevant questions about her and Jack's job and hobbies.
She was there, acting like a personal assistant, as she met with Camille, Jack's lawyer, as they hired a few more accountants and scouted new places looking for a viable office space.
"The interview will be scheduled next month, right?" She asked.
"Along with a photo shoot." Jack replied, looking disgruntled. "Miranda insisted on that one for us."
"Andy told me we get to keep the clothes." Unlike her husband, she didn't mind the photo shoot, and she was actually looking forward to it. She hadn't met the famous editor before, but Jessica Chastain did say she was very intimidating.
Once they got home, she jumped Jack in the shower, having passionate sex once again. Her emotions were in a state of flux, she was jealous, worried, and horny.
She shivered and moaned as Jack played with her nipples under the water spray. They were so sensitive lately, and even a light touch could cause them to stiffen.
"Faster!" She gasped. She loved the layout of their shower. With a seat designed in the wall of the shower area, they could have longer and more elaborate sexual positions. She moved forward, letting Jack slip off her, and pushed him into the seat. She adjusted the shower head so that it was properly pointed at the seat and slowly sat on Jack's lap, facing away from him as she allowed his cock to slip inside of her.
She groaned in satisfaction and grinned as Jack started to massage her breasts. She leaned back on his shoulder, allowing her man to nibble and lick on her exposed neck. She loved this position since she could control the pace, and it was the most relaxing for them.
Jack was hers. All those women could smile and shake their tits all they want. He was her man, and his cock belonged to her cunt. She grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at her and spat on his mouth, and smiled in a show of dominance. She leaned forward and kissed him, hard, exploring his mouth and battling his tongue with hers.
They left the shower, both their skins wrinkly from being in the shower for too long, and after drying up with fluffy towels, she cuddled with her husband on their bed.
Miranda Priestly
Acceptable. At least the girl's walk was leagues better compared to when he first started her training. Now she needed to work on her charm to work with the main judges for the state pageant if she wanted to go far.
She stared at Jack, the primary reason she had accepted the request from the bureau. He hadn't had a real, proper interview with a large brand magazine before ever since the truth of his tragic past came out. The casual interview with that reporter in Baltimore was a good start, but that was just the beginning.
He came off from that interview like your everyday, humble man, without any airs or arrogance. From that moment on, she grew intrigued with the man and started to pay more attention to him in the news.
She was surprised to learn that her twin daughters, Caroline and Cassidy, were big fans of his music, and she spent the night with her girls on either side of her on her bed as they watched and listened to Jack's songs that were available online.
When she learned that he was already married to a woman nearly a decade older than him, her interest grew. She saw the yacht party where the couple celebrated, a rare, yet to be released bonus video of the two that she knew would come out along when he launched his full album.
When she noticed how he behaved, surrounded by beautiful women, actresses, and pop stars, yet this man only had eyes for his wife, she became somewhat of a fan. And so, when the call arrived asking for some discreet help in one of their undercover operations, she leaped at the chance to meet him in person.
She brought her core team with her from New York, dependable, trustworthy and they knew how to be discreet. They were all eager to see the man of the hour, and so far, they were not disappointed.
She grew bored at the talent portion, as these twenty-somethings displayed unremarkable skills and let her gaze wander. Immediately, her eyes drifted to Jack Routh, and she stared at his profile. With his handsome face, he was born for the camera, and she knew his tall, powerful frame would be perfect for the fashion industry. It was both a pity and a blessing that he was so reclusive and obsessed with his job as a mere police officer.
Her eyes narrowed at the annoying, off-key singing by some of the contestants.
"What horrendous singing." She heard Emily whisper to Emily number two. The rendition of Whitney Houston's I will always love you by the contestant from Orange County was giving her a migraine.
"Like a cat in heat." Her other assistant added.
As the talent portion had finished, she made her way to Jack, who was slowly being surrounded by reporters and other well-wishers. Besides the judges, the pageant contestants lingered, taking photos with fans and their supporters. As soon as she reached Jack, she heard a loud groaning sound, and turned around, thinking it was a malfunction with the sound system.
She gasped as one of the temporary scaffolding towers holding up the lights began to tilt and fall. People screamed and ran, but she stood still, unsure of what to do.
"Move that way!" She heard Jack's voice yelling over the crowd.
She watched in horror as the metal tower started to fall towards her. She felt herself being grabbed by a pair of strong arms, and she closed her eyes in fear as a reflex. There was a loud crashing sound, and she opened her eyes a few moments later to see she was on the lawn beside the pool, with Jack Routh hugging her tight.
She realized that he must have sprinted to get to her, and with a strange sensation in her gut, she slowly realized what could have happened if he hadn't acted quickly. Looking around, she saw the pile of wrecked metal poles along with the destroyed massive speakers. She couldn't imagine what would have happened to her if she had been caught under that.
"Are you alright, Miranda?" She heard Jack ask.
"I'm… I'm fine." She replied. She heard of the phrase of a deer in the headlights, of how one was shocked into paralysis due to fear, unable to move from the incoming danger. She fully understood the phrase now.
Around her was pure chaos, with contestants crying, and organizers trying to herd the public away from the debris.
"Miranda!" Emily ran towards them as Jack slowly helped her up to her feet. "Oh my god!"
She went to the other side of the country for a purpose, and in her determination to get what she wanted, she lost sight of why they were here in the first place and why the Bureau asked for her assistance. Could this possibly be connected to that threat?
It certainly looked like it. As Emily helped remove the blades of grass and dirt from her outfit, she watched as Jack examined the base of the fallen tower with an intense focus on his face. He looked up and met her gaze and gave her a nod, answering the question in her head.
The gentleman had struck again.