Bounty Hunter [REWRITTEN VERSION]

Chapter 69: What Do You Say?

MAIZE
THREE WEEKS LATER

The bounty hunter rolled straight up to the 88th on her Yamaha. Parking, cutting the engine, and giving a quick kick to the kick-stand, Maize yanked her helmet off and shook her hair free in the breeze. Her hair cascaded in a flush wave down her back, sunlight reflected off the sheen of her black leather jacket, and amber eyes were grinning with the dawning exploits of another day.

Anyone looking at her then and comparing it to weeks back before she and another resident detective of the precinct had been away on unexplained business, there would have been no visible difference. At least from the outside, they would have said.

And she would have agreed with them. She had not changed a bit...at least from the outside.

Those who knew her enough to look closer, would have been able to see the new kind of fire that dawned in her eyes, even more potent than before.

About a week before, Maize had gotten a call from a certain pair of RCMP officers all the way from Vancouver, forwarded from the Captain's number line to her, with marvellously updating news. The leads they had received from prior notes and arrest had aided them in tracking down nearly all the outward branches still connected to the old Syndicate, and teams had made dozens of arrests over half a month, with a rather large case file of charges to put each accused member away for a long time. They informed her of Azeal's transfer to one of their state prisons, though she hadn't asked, and that he was awaiting proper trial.

Again, they politely asked whether or not she would be willing to testify. Again, she had turned them down. It would make a rather minuscule impact compared to the largely numbered case file to condemn him anyway.

And as for Azeal himself...she was not worried about him giving up her own past involvement with gang history, even if there was an opportunity to trade further information for a somewhat reduced sentence, he wouldn't. In their last moments, she had recognized the man she once knew. And that man would not sell out their story out of something as simple as pettiness. If she could rely on one thing, it was the trust that when he decided to come back for another shot of revenge, he would do it his own way—and keep the cops far out of it.

Her newest pair of leather-clad combat boots clicked against the pavement to tile flooring as she strode past a pair of rookie officers and into the departement building. She had been in and out for the past boring few weeks, since one of the only people she realized ever really made visiting the precinct interesting—besides the Captain, of course—was currently on recovery leave from work. And would be for at least several more weeks, as ordered by the doctors.

Maize had been right there in the room when he received the news and threw a hissy fit argument about the whole thing.

The notable one and only Detective West was lucky to have been discharged the morning prior so long as he continued to seek treatment for the still-healing wound stitches in his chest.

Which is why she was more than a little surprised to see him there, standing amid the moving department without a care as if waiting for something specific. Her to arrive.

She masked her surprise with a curiously smirking expression—torn between disapproval and amusement at the sight of his ever chaffing smile.

"I thought you weren't cleared to be back on duty," she stated as she came to a stop before him, arms crossing in front of her raised questioning expression.