"Quentin Lance?"
Jack Kadere was a little surprised to recognize the middle-aged cop chasing after the purse-snatcher.
Wasn't this Laurel's dad?
Watching the scene unfold, Jack noticed the distance between the two men growing. The suspect—a black man in his thirties—was gaining ground fast and was now running directly toward Jack, who just so happened to be standing in his path.
Jack casually stepped aside.
The thief's face lit up with arrogant satisfaction, shooting Jack a look that seemed to say, Smart move, kid. Behind him, Quentin Lance gritted his teeth in frustration. This was Starling City. You could count on one hand the number of civilians who'd lift a finger to help a cop.
As the thief sprinted past, Jack gave him a pleasant smile—then casually stuck out his left foot.
The runner instantly lost his balance and flew forward, skidding face-first along the pavement.
Silence fell over the block.
No one expected the casually dressed young man with the harmless grin to take action—least of all like that.
Quentin Lance blinked, then hurried over, pinning the stunned suspect to the ground and snapping on the cuffs.
"Thanks for the assist," he said, genuinely grateful.
"No problem," Jack replied with a wide smile as he watched the man being pulled up, blood smearing his face.
Yikes. That's a textbook faceplant.
Just then, a breathless woman in business attire came running up.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much," she said to Lance, gasping for breath. "That bag has some crucial legal documents. If I'd lost it…"
"You should really be thanking him." Lance gestured to Jack. "If he hadn't stepped in, you probably wouldn't have seen your bag again."
She turned to Jack immediately, bowed slightly, and reached into her purse. "My name is Anna Rowling. I'm an attorney. Please—take my card. If there's anything I can ever help you with, don't hesitate."
Jack took the card with a nod. "Appreciate it."
Then he turned back to Lance. "Mind if I borrow your phone? I was supposed to meet someone, but now…"
"Sure thing." Lance handed it over without hesitation.
Jack gave Quentin Lance a polite smile of gratitude, took the phone from him, and dialed Laurel's number. After a few rings, her voice came through—confused, slightly cautious.
"Dad? Is something wrong?"
Jack responded in a calm, casual tone.
"We agreed to meet today. You haven't forgotten, have you?"
There was a pause. Then Laurel's voice sharpened in alarm.
"It's you! How do you have my dad's phone? What did you do to him?! I already agreed to your terms—why would you—"
She recognized his voice instantly. The memory of his threats from the day before, now coupled with the fact he was calling her using her father's phone, sent her into immediate panic.
Jack's voice softened, almost coaxing.
"Darling, don't get upset just yet. Let's talk—face to face. The usual spot. I'll be there in about half an hour."
He ended the call without waiting for her response and calmly handed the phone back to Quentin Lance.
"Thank you," he said with a faint smile.
"Like you said—just a small favor," Lance replied, still unaware that his 'small favor' had nearly sent his daughter into a panic attack.
Jack nodded politely to both him and Anna Rowling, then turned and walked off down the street.
...
Twenty minutes later — outside the Queen Consolidated plant
Laurel Lance paced nervously by the front gates, her eyes darting every few seconds. When she finally spotted Jack approaching, she rushed over, a mix of fear and anger on her face.
"What did you do to my dad?!"
Jack gave a light chuckle. "Relax. I just ran into him chasing down a thief, helped him out, and borrowed his phone for a quick call. That's all."
Laurel didn't look convinced. "Really?"
Jack shrugged. "Call him yourself if you don't believe me."
Still suspicious, Laurel took out her phone and quickly dialed. A few rings later, a slightly out-of-breath Quentin Lance answered, his voice muffled by background noise.
"What is it? I'm busy here."
"…Nothing. Never mind."
"Okay then. Hanging up."
Click.
Before putting the phone away, Quentin frowned and instinctively checked his recent calls. Nothing strange—just his daughter's number at the top. No sign of the call Jack had made earlier.
"Huh. Did he delete it?" Quentin muttered. But he didn't give it another thought and shoved the phone into his jacket pocket before returning to work.
....
Jack watched as Laurel slowly exhaled and tucked her phone away.
"Next time," Jack said, his tone somewhere between scolding and smug, "if someone calls you from a family member's phone and acts shady, maybe don't rush out immediately without confirming they're okay first. Seriously, if I'd texted you 'I, Jack Kadere, demand money,' I bet you'd have wired it right over."
"You're impossible," Laurel muttered, folding her arms.
Jack grinned. "So... did you bring the cash?"
Laurel rolled her eyes and pulled out a slim envelope. "Yes. I brought it."
"Perfect. Come with me."
Jack casually slung an arm around her shoulder and led her down the sidewalk. After a ten-minute walk, they stopped in front of a modest-looking hotel.
Laurel narrowed her eyes. "What exactly are we doing here?"
Jack turned to her, deadpan. "Getting a room. Unless you'd rather hand over the money out in the open. I mean, I don't mind if you don't."
"…You're the worst," Laurel muttered under her breath.
Jack just smiled.