His Revenge

Chapter 19 - Maddox

Maddox P.O.V

A blaring ringing awakes me with a start. Francesca looks up at me from where she's using my chest as a pillow, and after a quick assessment, she rolls over onto her side, going back to sleep.

I stifle a frustrated groan, grab my phone off the nightstand, and bring it to my ear.

"Hello?" I groggily mutter into the receiver. However, nothing but silence greets me on the other end.

"Hello?" I say again as another ring sounds out. It takes my still sleep-addled brain a second to realize it's coming from my living room, where Chance had crashed moments before.

Or, more accurately, according to the clock on my phone, three and a half hours earlier.

Who in the hell could be calling? The sun wasn't even up yet, for fucks sake.

I toss aside my cover and pad to the door, my footsteps guided by the moonlight streaming through the window. On the way out, I gently closed the door behind me, careful not to wake Francesca. She was a light sleeper. And while that often benefited her in her profession, it could be a tad bit inconvenient whenever she slept over.

Soft snores float over to me from the couch, where Chance lays face down with the blankets hanging halfway off his body.

"Chance," I call, roughly shaking his shoulder until his head pops up from the pillow.

With his wavy dark locks jutting out in every imaginable direction, he looks around through slightly squinted eyes, checking his surroundings before focusing on me. "What?" He groans.

"Answer your phone."

"It's not even ringing." He declares, dropping his head heavily back onto the pillow.

"It was."

He grabs his phone off the table and scrolls through his missed calls. "Fuck." He groans again, untangling the sheet from his legs as he sits up.

I drop into the recliner, resting my head back. "Who was it? Ebony?"

"No. My Captain."

Captain Wade Deckerd was highly respected in the police department for his merits and achievements throughout his career. There were many a tale of his unorthodox but effective methods for solving cases passed down through the years.

Over time, he'd garnered the reputation for being a hardass, but that hasn't stopped every starry-eyed cadet from wanting to work with him.

I'd met Captain Deckard once or twice on one of the rare occasions our cases overlapped, but we hadn't spoken much beyond that.

"You gonna call him back?" I ask.

"Yeah. Don't really have a choice not to." Chance scratches the top of his head, further messing his hair. "It could be important."

I nod, my eyes drifting close. The buttery, soft leather cradling my body was far too tempting to resist.

"Hey," Chance lightly smacks my knee. "I'm uh...sorry for interrupting."

I wave off his apology. "Don't worry about it. If anything, I sho-"

Chance's phone rings. He sighs softly, rubbing the knuckle of his thumb over his brow before answering. "He-"

"Collins, where the hell are ya?!" A deep voice booms from the speaker.

"Why? What's going on?"

There's a long pause before he says, "We got a body."

Chance's eyes briefly cut to me before returning to his phone screen. "Sienna?"

"Don't know yet. It's bad. Real bad." Deckard says, and even through the line, his voice sounds strained and weary. "Just get here fast."