Day smirked, the gesture adding some sexiness to his welcoming personality. “Likewise.” Day reached behind him and flipped open his wallet with his police-issue ID and badge. “You guys show him your IDs,” he ordered. “We already know who you are. Jesse Holstrom from Baltimore. Who do you think approved you as a visitor for your friend?”
They all did as Day instructed, except God. Jesse really didn’t need to see his identification anyway. He believed who the man said he was. Now he realized their motive for stopping him, and also that unhelpful citizens made their jobs difficult. But Jesse also understood that Worm had committed a crime and had to suffer those consequences, whether his plan worked out or not. All Jesse wanted was to stay the hell out of it.
He spoke directly to Lieutenant Day, because, well, it was better than the alternative. “While I don’t think it’s the police’s fault that Felix is in jail, I do believe it’s your problem now.” Jesse picked up his duffle bag and hefted it onto his shoulder, a telltale sign the conversation was over. “I’m sorry, but if you want information from him, then you’re going to have to get it yourselves.”
God visibly stiffened; his jaw clenched tight enough to take a punch from Mike Tyson. It was obvious he was a man in charge that wasn’t used to being told no. His partner, Day, placed his hand in the center of God’s chest and—to Jesse’s utter shock—he somehow simmered down.
“Understood. You have a good day, Mr. Holstrom.” Day smiled, and Jesse thought it was a bit too saccharine to be believable. The tightly packed man seemed just as formidable as his larger counterpart, and Jesse just wasn’t sure if he could trust any of them with his best friend’s safety.
This time when Jesse turned to leave, the four men parted into twos, almost instinctively, and allowed him passage. It wasn’t until he was four blocks away that his breathing leveled out.
Mason
Mason finally climbed out of bed around noon. It was his day off, and he typically liked to go to the precinct’s gym and get in an early workout before heading to Erlene’s shop for brunch, but he wasn’t feeling up to any of that. His body was weary, but mostly his mind was spinning. He’d resolved himself to not letting Jesse consume his every free thought, but he hadn’t been successful. Now on his rare time off, he was battling against doing what his soul was telling him to do versus doing what his badge said he should. It’d be reckless of him to make an advance on a homeless drifter that’d breezed into town. A young one at that.
There was no way he could leisurely drive around his neighborhood, enjoying the last remnants of Christmas decorations and deciding where he was going to eat a nice hearty, comfort dinner, when the most in-need-of-help man he’d ever met was stuck out in the cold. Alone. He didn’t—couldn’t—keep seeing Jesse out there on the dangerous streets, looking afraid and guarded.
Instead of going to the gym, Mason put on a thick sweatsuit and decided to go for a run. He knew exactly what his intentions were when he made a left out of his neighborhood instead of a right. Jogging—or more like sprinting—toward the community recreation center on Logan Street. It’s where a lot of people with no particular place to be tended to migrate. The entire park on the opposite side of the gated overpass was a safe, neutral gang zone, so it made sense why many chose that area. The center also provided hot meals on occasion and had a clothing pantry for anyone not lucky enough to find a bed at the Mission shelter.
Mason wasn’t sure why Jesse stayed in the area, never venturing too far from Grant Park. It was clear he stuck out like a sore thumb with his monogrammed leather bag and politeness. The wolves would smell the fresh meat in the pasture, and it wouldn’t be long before Jesse was prey. Mason jogged faster as he thought the worst. Did the guy have family in the area that he was trying to reconnect with? He must. Maybe he’s waiting on someone to come home. One thing Mason did know about Jesse, he wasn’t a criminal.
Mason saw quite a few people milling around, some in groups, some isolated and to themselves. And that’s how he found Jesse. His tall frame crouched against the base of a wide tree with his duffle looped through his arm and tucked tightly under his head. He wasn’t moving, but he wasn’t asleep either. He was… reading. Mason smiled thoughtfully. Feeling as if that was as good an icebreaker as any, he approached Jesse carefully.
“Hey, Jesse,” Mason whispered.
Jesse jumped as if he’d been kicked, his wide brown eyes darting around before noticing who’d spoken his name. “Officer Mason?” Jesse croaked. He sounded as if he hadn’t spoken in days, like his vocal cords were rusty.