We sat in Jake's car, parked outside an apartment complex that looked like it had seen better days. The whole place had that "this is where bad things happen in movies" kind of vibe.
Max crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. "So, where's this snitch of yours?"
Jake turned in his seat. "He's an informant."
"Same thing." Max waved him off.
I took a sip of my coffee, staring out the window. So far, according to Jake, we were making great progress in tracking down Doug Judy. But all we'd actually done was get donuts, grab coffee, and drive around Brooklyn aimlessly.
I sighed. "You sure we're making progress, Jake?"
Jake pointed at me dramatically. "Hey, detective work requires patience, perseverance, and—" he held up his donut, "fuel."
I sighed again and took another sip of coffee.
Jake perked up suddenly. "Hey, while we're here, are you interested in writing any police action novels? Because I have a killer idea."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Jake leaned forward, hands gesturing excitedly as he spoke. "Okay, hear me out: 'Jake Peril' is an elite NYPD detective—rogue but brilliant. One day, terrorists take over a skyscraper, and only he can stop them."
I squinted at him. The plot sounded very familiar. "That… sounds a lot like Die Hard."
"Well, yes, but this time—Jake Peralta has to save the President."
Max snorted.
I shook my head. "And didn't you just say his name was Jake Peril?"
Jake waved his hands in front of him. "Well, they're very similar people—smart, badass, and great in a tank top."
I chuckled as Jake continued explaining what was basically Die Hard, except he was now the hero.
Max rolled her eyes. "Hey, dorks—" she suddenly leaned forward, looking out the windshield. "Is that the guy we're looking for?"
Jake followed her gaze and immediately straightened up. At the far end of the parking lot stood a man in a dark hoodie, shifting nervously.
"Bingo," Jake muttered.
He turned to us. "Alright, you two stay here. This guy's a little skittish, and I don't need him freaking out."
Max saluted lazily. "Yeah, yeah, go do your thing, Detective Peril."
Jake squinted at her before stepping out of the car and making his way toward the shady-looking man.
Max turned to me. "So, uh… we're totally gonna follow him, right?"
I smirked. "Oh, absolutely."
We walked over as Jake spoke to the snitch—well, informant.
"Come on, Jackie, you know what went down. You must've heard something," Jake said, his voice low but insistent.
The informant, Jackie—a wiry guy with shifty eyes and an old Knicks jacket—glanced nervously at Jake, then at us. "Hey, who are they?" he asked, pointing at me and Max.
"They're with me." Jake waved him off. "Guys, I told you to wait in the car."
Max shrugged. "Yeah, and we ignored you."
Jackie narrowed his eyes. "Look, I haven't heard about any car theft or planned car theft." He paused, rubbing his fingers together in that universal "pay me" gesture. "But I might… if you, you know…"
Jake sighed and pulled out his wallet, flipping through it. "Okay, let's see… I have a ten—aha! Twenty."
Jackie scoffed. "I'm outta here." He turned to leave.
I stepped forward and casually pulled out a handful of crisp hundred-dollar bills from my wallet. "Here." I held them up so Jackie could see.
Jackie's eyes widened. "Whoa."
"Now, if you give us any info, I'll give you some of these Benjamins."
Jackie scratched his chin, clearly debating how much he wanted to say. Finally, he leaned in. "Alright, alright. I heard someone was looking for certain rare models of cars. Word is, they were willing to pay big money for them—something about a prince in Dubai. The guy you're looking for was hired to steal two specific cars, and from what I hear, he was successful."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
Jackie shrugged. "That's all I know."
I sighed and peeled off one of the hundred-dollar bills, handing it to him. "Here."
Jackie took it quickly, eyeing the rest in my hand. "Hey, what about the rest?"
I smirked. "I'll keep it."
Jake grinned and clapped Jackie on the shoulder. "Alright, Jackie, do yourself a favor and run along."
Jackie huffed but tucked the bill into his jacket and disappeared in the alleyway.
Max, Jake, and I turned and made our way back to the car.
"Well, that was nothing," I said.
"No, no, that was step one. I can feel it—we're close. I'm sure by the end of the day, Doug Judy will be in our grasp," Jake said excitedly.
===
We didn't find Doug Judy.
After hours of chasing down leads, hitting dead ends, and one particularly embarrassing moment where Jake tripped while trying to vault over a garbage can (landing face-first on the asphalt), we dragged ourselves back to my apartment, exhausted.
Jake limped inside, rubbing his shoulder. "We got close. So close. Next time? Oh, next time we're getting him for sure." He winced as he sat down.
I gave him a sympathetic look. "You okay, man?"
Jake waved me off like it was nothing. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He immediately winced again. "I mean, I might have a mild concussion, but that's just, like, bonus adrenaline points, right?"
Max snorted, flopping down on the couch.
I chuckled and walked toward the kitchen. "Alright, I'll get us some drinks."
As I stepped into the kitchen, I immediately noticed two familiar figures following behind me: Stan and Jacob—two of my security guys.
I sighed. "Good work, boys. I barely saw you following me."
Stan, the older of the two, gave me a tight nod. "Miss Wallace has brought in more men. We've increased your security detail since there's still a risk."
I turned to grab some glasses, pouring drinks as I listened.
"Mr. Adler, I think it's better if you stay here," Stan continued. "It's dangerous for you to go out with that detective."
I glanced at him as I poured the drinks, unimpressed. "Look, you guys basically tailed me all day when we were out in the city, and now you're complaining it was too hard?"
"No, sir," Jacob, the other bodyguard, quickly corrected.
I sighed. "Look, guys, I know more of you are here now, which is great—it means more protection. I want you to do what you've been doing—keep an eye out while I go have fun playing detective."
Stan didn't budge. "Sir, I've heard of Diego Montoya. It's better not to get on his radar."
I smirked and shrugged. "Stan, the man's son's car was stolen by the guy we're looking for. In some ways, the enemy of my enemy is my friend."
Stan didn't look convinced, but I was already walking past him, drinks in hand.
I stepped into the living room where Jake and Max were lounging. Jake was still obsessively checking his phone, while Max was comfortably sprawled on my couch, clearly enjoying her unplanned vacation at my expense.
Jake looked up. "Just got off the phone with Boyle. He'll be here soon with an update."
Max reached for one of the drinks I handed her, grinning. "I, for one, am enjoying this vacation. And I'm still glad Doug is on the loose."
I scoffed. "I can't believe you're still on his side."
"I can't believe you aren't," Max shot back before taking a sip of her drink.
I sat down, shaking my head. "Max, he broke my trust. He stole my watch, used me to get inside the concert, and then used that access to steal two cars."
Max shrugged. "Meh." She sipped her drink again.
Just then, Stan's phone buzzed. He checked the screen and looked up. "There's a Detective Charles here to see you, Mr. Adler."
Jake immediately perked up. "Ah, that's Boyle. Send him in!"
I nodded at Stan, who sighed but gave the order to let Boyle through.
The door swung open, and in walked a short, slightly portly man with infectious enthusiasm radiating from his face. The moment his eyes landed on Jake, he lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Jake, I missed you!" Boyle exclaimed, arms slightly outstretched as if expecting a hug.
Jake, sitting comfortably on the couch, did not get up. "Boyle, it's been like a day."
"Still," Boyle huffed, then turned to me.
Jake smirked and motioned toward me. "Ah, Boyle, no need to be starstruck. That is indeed Daniel Adler."
Boyle immediately stuck out his hand, shaking mine with what I could only describe as overwhelming enthusiasm. "Charles Boyle, detective—and Jake's best friend."
I gave a small chuckle. "Oh yeah, I know. Jake told me."
Boyle practically beamed, as if I'd just told him he won an award. "Oh, also, I just wanted to say—I started reading your books. Big fan. Really great stuff."
Jake groaned dramatically. "Boyle, not now."
"Right, right!" Boyle suddenly snapped to attention, shaking himself out of his excitement. "So, here's the update. This is way bigger than just grand theft auto. Turns out Montoya Jr. wasn't just driving around for fun—he was there to sell. And we're talking a lot of drugs. Huge deal, massive supply in the stolen car. And get this—his father didn't even know about it."
"Damn," Max muttered, taking another sip of her drink.
I leaned forward, frowning. "So Judy's really screwed."
Boyle nodded solemnly. "Oh, super screwed. We don't know if Judy was after the drugs too, or if he was just there for the cars and accidentally stole them along with the stash. But Montoya Sr.'s men are after him now."
Jake sat up straight, suddenly looking alarmed. "Okay, that's bad."
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Ughhh. I hate that I care, but we have to get to him first. Knowing Judy as well as I do, he's probably already halfway across the country by now. The dude is a ghost when he needs to be. He probably sold the cars…"
As Jake continued rambling, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen—unknown number. I frowned but answered anyway.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Danny. It's me, Doug Judy—remember from the concert? I need some help, my friend."
My eyes widened. I sat up straighter. "Doug Judy?!" I said loudly, catching everyone's attention.
Jake immediately froze mid-rant. "Wait, what?"
On the other end, Doug continued, "Look, man, I need some help laying low. Something happened at the concert, and I—"
I cut him off. "Oh, I know exactly what happened, Doug Judy," I said, emphasizing his full name with irritation. "Or should I say…" I glanced at Jake, and together we both said in unison:
"The Pontiac Bandit!"
There was a pause on the other end before Doug groaned. "Oh, come on, Jake is there too? That is awesome!"
"Awesome?!" Jake said. "Yeah, because this is the day I finally put you behind bars, Doug!"
Doug was unfazed. "Aw, Jakey, always so dramatic. How's my girl Rosa?"
He suddenly broke into song. "Rosa, Rosa, Rosa… Rosa, Rosa…"
Max's eyes widened. "Hey! That's the song you sang for me!"
Doug chuckled. "Oh, Max is there too? Well, of course, that song was only for you, baby."
Max squinted, unconvinced. "Mmm-hmm."
Jake, fed up, cut in. "Enough with the smooth talk, Doug Judy. You are going down!"
"Oh, relax, Jakey. You're so tense. You need to loosen up, maybe get a massage. Or—ooh! Are you going to Camp Half-Blood Con tomorrow?"
Jake blinked. "What? Yes—no! No, no, no. I was going, but now I'm going to spend my entire day putting you in jail!"
"Damn, that's cold," Doug replied. "Look, I'll make it easy. We need to meet up, and I'll be at the Con tomorrow."
"Oh, you'll be there, all right," Jake growled. "And you will be dragged out in handcuffs."
Before I could even bring up my watch, Doug hung up.
Jake slowly turned to me, eyes gleaming. "We know where he is."
I exhaled, rubbing my face. "Tomorrow, then."
.
.
.
We were late to the con. I could see that the floor was packed with fans, cosplayers, vendors, and people clutching every form of merch imaginable. Banners hung from the ceiling of the Camp Half-Blood cabins.
"Okay, we're late," I said flatly, glancing at everyone.
The reason? Standing right beside me in a skin-tight Aphrodite costume with a plunging neckline was Max. She looked fantastic—yes—but she was also the reason we were late.
Jake was next to her, decked out in a full Poseidon costume, complete with a fake beard, a plastic trident, and an ocean-blue toga that was somehow too tight and too loose at the same time. And then there was Boyle, trailing behind us with a tragic pout on his face for not having a costume.
Jake turned to me and said, "I had to run out and grab this"—he gestured dramatically at his own outfit—"all the work I put into it would have gone to waste."
"Do you think I could just say I'm dressed as a normal guy from your books?" asked Boyle.
"Sure, you can be an unassuming hidden monster," I said to Boyle.
I turned to Max.
"What we didn't need," I said, looking at her pointedly, "was to spend two hours picking out your costume."
Max smiled, completely unbothered. "Well, I don't see you complaining," she said, pushing her chest forward just a little more.
I stared, blinked, and then sighed. "You know what? I take that back."
She smirked. "Thought so."
Max looked around at the massive crowd, her eyes widening. "Okay, wow. That's a lot of people."
Jake spun around. "Of course there are! It's packed. And it looks even bigger than last time."
I nodded. "Yeah. I think people are excited for the announcement. Also, last year there was a sudden spike in newer readers."
Jake rubbed his hands together. "Alright, while you go do your Q&A, Boyle and I will hunt down the Doug Judy."
I turned to my security team. "Stan, help them out. They might need the extra eyes."
Stan, my head of security, frowned immediately. "Mr. Adler, I really don't recommend that. We need to be with you."
"I'll be fine," I said, waving him off. "Just help the detectives, alright?"
"Come on, Boyle," Jake said, already jogging ahead. "We've got a bandit to catch."
Boyle nodded and ran after him, still a little bummed about not having a costume.
Max and I peeled off from them, heading toward the backstage area.
We were met there by Raul, a slim, high-energy guy I knew from last year. He had a clipboard practically glued to his hand. He looked at me, slightly apologetic.
"Mr. Adler, just a heads-up—we had to change the moderator for your Q&A session."
I stopped mid-step. "Wait, what? I literally talked to—what was his name... Jimmy—yesterday."
Raul winced. "Yeah, Jimmy kinda bailed. Flight delay or flu—I don't know, it was chaotic. But don't worry. We landed someone even more qualified. Total stroke of luck, really."
I narrowed my eyes. "Really."
"He knows your work; he's got notes from Jimmy, he's read your books, and—look, I think this guy is better."
"Can I talk to him before we start?"
Raul shook his head, clearly flustered. "No time."
"Fine," I muttered, adjusting my jacket. "Let's just get this over with."
As we reached the stairs leading to the stage, I could hear the swell of the audience—cheering, a few people shouting my name. Max leaned toward me, grinning like a cat.
"You want me to keep an eye out for our buddy?"
"Yeah," I said. "Look around the audience. See if you can spot Judy."
Max smirked. "If I find him, I'm helping him escape."
I gave her a flat look. "At least get my watch back first."
She just shrugged, laughing as she walked off toward the crowd.
Then I heard it: piano music. Smooth, jazzy chords drifting through the speakers. A velvet voice followed:
"Ladies and gentlemen, demigods and mortals, it's time. The man of the hour. The boy genius. The literary lightning bolt. The Zeus in the sheets, demigod of the pen, and your favorite dream daddy of Olympus…"
The audience burst into laughter and wild applause.
My stomach dropped. "It can't be," I whispered.
"My name is Horatio Velvateen, and please welcome the one, the only… Daniel Adler!"
I stepped onto the stage, blinking under the bright lights, and there he was.
Doug Judy.
Wearing a toga, a fake white beard, a golden laurel crown, and the biggest grin I've ever seen.
The crowd went wild.
I froze. My eyes scanned the front row—Max was doubled over, holding her stomach, laughing hard.
Doug spread his arms wide like a game show host. "Come on, Daniel, don't be shy now!"
I walked over, my eyes still on Judy and a microphone gripped in my hand. The crowd continued to cheer and laugh, still riding the high of Doug Judy's dramatic, ridiculous introduction. I leaned in closer, pretending to adjust the mic, and whispered through gritted teeth, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Doug's smile didn't waver. Still beaming at the audience, he whispered back, "I need your help, my friend."
Then he pulled the microphone back to his mouth and said in his smooth, sing-song voice, "Well, our guest was a little late, but that's just because he's fashionable, baby! Must be a thing he picked up in Hollywood."
More laughter from the crowd.
"Anyway," Doug continued, turning back toward me with mock professionalism, "let's just get right into it, Daniel. Tell us about the new TV show."
I forced a smile and leaned into the mic. "Yes, very excited for it. I think you're all going to love it. You know what to expect from me…" I said, distracted by the situation.
I leaned in again, covered the mic with my hand. "You tricked me. Broke my trust."
Doug's tone softened as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I can explain."
"And you stole my watch, too, you asshole."
Doug blinked. "Wait… seriously?"
The audience was starting to shift in their seats, clearly sensing something was off. A few people up front were already whispering.
Doug, ever the showman, smoothed it over by suddenly holding up a note card. "I actually have a message here," he said, waving it. "From a fan… very emotional stuff."
I narrowed my eyes, noticing nothing was written on the card.
Doug "read" from it, voice warm. "To Daniel… I'm sorry. For all of it. Especially that gift I was given, which I now realize might not have been a gift at all."
He looked at me meaningfully.
I sat there, processing for a second. Then it clicked—drunken me had given him the watch. I had completely forgotten.
Shit.
I leaned in toward him again and whispered, "I'm sorry."
Doug gave me a subtle nod, then turned to the crowd and clapped his hands. "Well, I don't know what that was all about," he said, tossing the blank card aside and making things more awkward. I could hear Max's laughter from the front row.
"But let's do the Q and A. Who's ready to ask the first question?"
The Q&A kicked off—a little bumpy at first, but it soon smoothed out. The audience, initially confused by the strange exchange, began to relax. Doug was a natural onstage: funny, charming, and just the right amount of chaotic. About half an hour in, I caught movement near the back of the room. I looked up—and there was Jake, weaving through the side aisle, trying hard not to attract attention. His eyes scanned the stage and landed on Judy. His jaw dropped.
I met his gaze and gave a small nod, motioning him backstage with a flick of my fingers.
Jake's eyes narrowed. He nodded back.
"Let's take a break," I said quickly.
"Okay, okay," Doug grinned, turning to the audience. "We'll be back soon, folks—just going to prepare for the big announcement!"
He winked at the crowd, and they ate it up, laughing and cheering. I just shook my head and motioned for him to follow me backstage.
Backstage, Jake was already waiting with Boyle by his side, arms crossed, his face filled with smug satisfaction.
"Well, well, well," Jake said, stepping forward. "Doug Judy."
Doug held out his arms, smiling broadly. "Jake! My brother from another—" But he didn't get to finish. Jake slapped the cuffs on him in one smooth motion.
Doug blinked. "Seriously? You're cuffing me? Can't we at least hug it out first? I mean, we're literally dressed as Greek gods—Greek gods who are brothers, man!"
"Not this time, Doug Judy," Jake said, voice steely. "I'm taking you to jail. No more games."
Boyle stepped up beside Jake and pointed dramatically. "And FYI, I'm Jake's best friend. Not you."
Doug squinted at him. "Are you sure?"
I raised a hand. "Okay, okay—Doug, my watch."
Jake gasped. "How dare you steal Daniel Adler's watch!"
Doug held up his cuffed hands innocently. "I didn't!"
Boyle pointed at Doug's wrist. "Then what's that on your hand?!"
"Guys," I cut in. "He didn't steal it."
Max, Jake, and Boyle all turned to me in perfect unison. "He didn't?" they echoed.
"No," I said, rubbing my temples. "I gave it to him. I remember now—drunken generosity."
Doug beamed. "Thank you! Finally!"
Doug looked at Jake. "Take it off, brother. Return it with dignity."
Jake reluctantly took the watch off and handed it back to me. I slipped it into my pocket.
Doug took a deep breath. "Okay. Now, you guys have to listen to me. Did I trick Daniel into getting into the VIP box? Yes. Yes, I did."
"Did I steal those cars?" Doug said, his voice dropping. "Yes, I did."
Max crossed her arms. "Stealing from the rich. I see no wrong."
"But," Doug said, raising a finger, "I was set up."
Jake scoffed. "Oh, come on. You're lying. Again."
"No, no, listen," Doug pleaded. "I got hired to lift two cars. Big payday—crazy big. But it wasn't about the cars—it was about what was in them. Drugs. Smuggled in, set up by Montoya Jr."
My eyes widened. "The cartel kid?"
Doug nodded. "Yeah. He wanted to pin the loss on me. Make it look like I stole the cars and lost the product, so his father would get mad at me, not him. Meanwhile, he gets to resell the stuff himself."
Jake tilted his head. "Okay… I mean… that does make sense."
"Exactly!" Doug said. "And now they're after me. And they're after you too, Daniel."
"Me?" I blinked. "What did I do?"
Doug turned toward me, his expression suddenly serious. "You were with me. On footage. Hanging out. Seen as part of the 'operation.' If Montoya Sr. thinks you helped screw him out of a shipment, you're just as much a target as me."
"Well, that sucks," I muttered, just as I spotted six men walking briskly toward us.
Their posture was tense, their eyes locked onto Doug Judy. One of them, tall and built like a football player, pulled a gun from his coat.
"Oh shit," I said, instinctively raising my hands.
The others followed suit—Jake, Boyle, Max, and even Doug, who gave a little sigh like this happened to him every other weekend.
Max whispered, "Okay, this went from fun to definitely not fun real quick."
The man with the gun stepped closer. "We've been looking for you, Judy. And your new buyer." He gestured toward me with the barrel of his weapon.
"Me? Whoa, whoa, I'm not a buyer of anything," I protested.
Doug said coolly, "He's not involved, alright? I told you—I was set up by your boss's son."
"Lies," the guy snapped.
They marched us backstage, behind the thin divider wall separating the stage from the massive crowd out front. I could hear the faint echoes of the ongoing convention.
"Stand here," one of them ordered, lining us up near the wall. "Our boss will deal with you personally."
"Wait… Montoya's here?" Jake said, glancing at me. "So the rumors are true—he is in trouble with the cartel."
"Shut it," one of the men barked, as they moved away but kept their guns trained on us.
After a moment, Jake leaned toward me. "Okay, here's the plan—we're gonna Die Hard this thing. Cause a distraction, go for their guns—"
"What? No," I whispered. "That's stupid. We're going to die."
"I have a better plan," I insisted.
"Better than Die Hard?" asked Jake, looking skeptical.
"Look, stop talking about Die Hard. It only works if you're outside the situation, man. Have you even seen the movie?"
Just then, a figure entered from the back hallway—a tall, middle-aged man with striking features, slicked-back hair, and a tailored suit.
Max tilted her head. "Damn… he's kinda hot."
"I think he's gonna kill us, Max," I whispered urgently.
She shrugged. "Hot people can be murderers too. It's part of the charm."
Doug Judy chuckled nervously. "Heyyyy… Diego Montoya Senior! Long time, no see, compadre!"
Montoya's eyes narrowed. "Doug Judy… stealing from me was… unwise."
Before he could say more, I raised a hand and said, loud and clear, "Okay. I'm done with all this."
Jake and Doug whipped their heads toward me.
Jake hissed, "What are you doing?"
Doug gave a panicked whisper, "Daniel, this is not the time—"
"I just wanted to get my watch back," I continued, ignoring them. "And I have it back. So now I'm going to go make my announcement, sign some autographs, and probably catch a flight home to my very angry girlfriend."
Montoya took a step forward, glowering. "You're not going anywhere. Do you know how much—"
"No," I cut him off.
Montoya blinked. "What?"
"No," I repeated, stepping forward. "Do you know who I am, you fucker? I'm Daniel fucking Adler."
Montoya looked a bit amused, but it didn't last for long, because chaos erupted.
The doors opened, and ten massive security agents in black suits stormed in. Jacob and Stan were at the front, leading the charge. Within seconds, Montoya's men were tackled, disarmed, and pinned against the wall.
In the scuffle, the thin backstage divider buckled and crashed down, revealing the chaotic brawl to the full auditorium. The crowd gasped, unsure if this was real or part of the show.
Doug Judy, somehow already out of the cuffs, threw himself into the fray. "For Olympus!" he shouted—still fully in costume.
Jake joined in, cracking Montoya across the face with his plastic trident. "I got him! I got Montoya!" he yelled, sounding both victorious and disbelieving.
Max ducked and grabbed a plank of plywood, whacking an attacker squarely on the head as he stumbled in our direction. "This is fun now!"
One of the guys lunged at me, grabbing my ankle. I stumbled backward—straight through the torn divider—landing hard onstage in full view of the audience.
I looked up at thousands of stunned fans. For a beat, the whole room held its breath.
Then I stood, grabbed the microphone from the floor, straightened my now-wrinkled jacket, and said:
"Anyway… as I was saying… I'm happy to announce the next five-part saga in the world of Percy Jackson… Heroes of Olympus."
The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers.
Right on cue, Max, Jake, and Doug Judy stumbled onto the stage behind me—still in costume.
"Yes, yes, all part of the show," I said.
From somewhere in the crowd, I heard someone shout, "What the hell just happened?"
I smirked, turning to my friends. "Just go with it." Then I bowed to the audience as my security continued to subdue Montoya's men behind me.
====
Max and I stood just outside the con venue, watching as Montoya Sr. and his crew were loaded into the back of police cruisers. A little further ahead, I spotted Jake talking with Doug Judy—still cuffed, but somehow managing to keep his usual smooth, unbothered smile. Jake looked downright ecstatic, riding the high from finally "catching" the Pontiac Bandit again.
I walked over, nodding at Jake and Doug.
Judy looked at me and smiled sheepishly. "Hey, man, again… sorry. I really do love your books."
"Well, you can read the next ones in prison, Judy," said Jake.
"I really had a fun time at the concert," said Judy.
Jake jumped in, grinning. "But we had the more fun, didn't we, Daniel?"
"We sure did," I said, stepping in to give Judy a hug. As I did, I slipped something from my sleeve—something I had taken from Jake—into Doug's cuffed hands.
"Thank you," Judy whispered.
Jake clapped his hands together. "Alright! Time to go back to the precinct and brag like hell."
"So… what do you think Captain Holt is going to say about all this?" I asked.
Jake stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh no. I didn't think about that."
=====
Back at the precinct, Max and I sat with Jake in Captain Holt's office. Holt sat behind his desk, his gaze steely and disapproving.
"So," he began slowly, "you disobeyed a direct order, Detective Peralta."
Jake smiled weakly. "But, Captain… it all worked out in the end."
Holt raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but I cut in quickly. "Actually, Captain Holt, it was my fault. I encouraged Jake to follow up. I needed help, and he was… there."
Holt turned to me, impassive. "That was dangerous, Mr. Adler. And reckless."
Max chimed in from her chair. "But come on, it was also kind of awesome."
I cleared my throat. "Still, I have to ask… is there going to be any trouble with Montoya?"
Holt's eyes shifted. "That… is a more complicated matter." He stood and closed the office door. "As of thirty minutes ago, Montoya Sr. is no longer in NYPD custody. The FBI has taken over the case. According to them, Diego Montoya Sr. was never caught. Officially."
Jake looked crushed. "Wait. So… all that, and we don't even get to say we caught him?"
Holt nodded. "Correct. The FBI is trying to keep this quiet. Apparently, Diego is connected to larger investigations, and they don't want media interference."
I exhaled in relief. "Well, that's fine by me. Less heat."
Max piped up, "So… does this mean Judy's off the hook too?"
Holt stared at her. "Mr. Judy still has an extensive list of crimes to answer for."
I stood, brushing invisible dust from my jacket. "Well… I think it's time I got out of this city before anything else insane happens."
"That," Holt said, standing as well, "would be wise."
Max stood too, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Don't need to tell me twice. I've had enough cartel encounters to last me a lifetime."
====
I walked out of the precinct with Jake and Max.
"Well," I said, clapping Jake on the shoulder, "it's been a fun two days."
Jake grinned. "Fun? Dude, it was the greatest two days of my life. I got to arrest Doug Judy, go to the con with you, and I saw your real-life Batman suit in your apartment."
"Oh, remind me to show you the Tumbler next time."
"You have the Tumbler from the movie?" Jake asked, astonished.
I chuckled. "Also… keep an eye out for something in the next book," I said, slipping on my sunglasses. "I think there will be something in there you'll like."
Jake's eyes lit up. "Wait, what? What does that mean? Is it about me? Is there a Peralta cameo?! No, don't tell me—actually, do tell me. No, wait—don't—wait, yes—"
Before he could spiral further, Amy sprinted out the precinct doors, panting. "Jake! Doug Judy escaped!"
Max's eyes went wide with delight. "No way."
Jake dropped to one knee in slow motion, fists clenched to the sky. "NOOOOOO!"
I turned to Max with a smirk. "Well, well… shall we?"
We started walking. "You know," Max said, brushing her hair back, "you did a good thing helping him."
"He's a good guy," I said with a grin. "Also, it's good to have some contacts in the criminal world for a man like me."
I shot her a sideways glance. "And have you thought about my offer? I mean, a shop in L.A. means more money."
Max rolled her eyes."You just want them near where you live, but sorry—I'm not leaving Brooklyn."
We reached the curb. A black SUV waited with Stan at the wheel. I opened the door and turned to her.
"See you when I see you, Max."
I climbed into the SUV.
"Boss," Stan said, eyes on the rearview mirror, "we can't have you doing stuff like this again."
"Then double the security detail next time I'm here," I said.
Stan muttered, "I don't think we're ever coming back."
====
We pulled up to the apartment. I stepped out, nodded to the guards, and made my way inside.
The hallway was dark. Too dark. A weird chill hit me as I walked through the front door—not just cold, but… eerie.
The apartment was silent. No lights.
I squinted. Something didn't feel right.
I turned the corner toward the living room. Then—
Click.
A lamp flicked on beside the couch. Margot sat there, legs crossed, wearing a dangerous smirk on her lips.
"Hello, Danny."
"Oh… fuck," I muttered.
She patted the couch next to her. "Let's talk."