Chapter 113: Chris's Trouble

"Wow, did you hit the jackpot?"

Hannah exclaimed as she slid into the driver's seat of Jack's new toy in the parking lot. She couldn't resist checking out the feel of the Firebird's controls.

As a veteran muscle car enthusiast, she revved the engine lightly and could tell immediately that this Firebird had more power than her own Shelby GT500.

"A friend hooked me up with a gig for the IRS. Got a nice bonus out of it. This car alone cost me a third of that," Jack admitted, feeling a bit guilty about the impulsive purchase. But the dream of owning such a car was something he never thought he could afford in his previous life.

"Totally worth it. The ladies will go crazy for this car. How did you come up with the idea to add that red light strip on the front? It's so cool."

Hannah's satisfied smile as she patted the steering wheel gave Jack the impression of a wife showing approval for a new household purchase, blending into a surreal image of an elder teaching a younger family member.

Back at Hannah's place, Jack was about to carry her suitcase inside when he noticed her standing at her front door, lost in thought.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked, puzzled. He had spent a good part of the day cleaning up the house in anticipation of her return. Not only had he trimmed the lawn meticulously, but he also cleaned the backyard pool and filled it with fresh water.

Of course, there was a bit of a personal motive behind sprucing up the pool. Though his oversized bathtub was fantastic, seeing her in a swimsuit had its own appeal. Reflecting on their time together, he realized he hadn't seen either Zoe or Maureen in swimsuits either.

"No one's ever been this good to me before." Hannah threw her arms around Jack, her voice thick with emotion. She was already tearing up and clung to him tightly, her legs wrapping around his waist.

"Ahem, there are people inside," Jack awkwardly patted her waist, whispering a reminder in her ear.

"Surprise!"

Before Hannah could process what was happening, a group of people jumped out from all corners—LAPD colleagues, the two formidable ladies Kara and Maureen, the Hunter couple, Zoe's parents, the Andersons, and even her frenemy Taylor.

Fortunately, being the outgoing Texan she was, Hannah was far from embarrassed. She slid off Jack, kissed him on the cheek, and then joined the group with joyous laughter.

Jack had his hands full today. To showcase his cooking skills, he had spent the last few days sampling LA's renowned Italian restaurants.

Italian cuisine, often dubbed the mother of Western food, is arguably the most palatable for people from his original homeland, Celis. It's also widely loved by Americans.

This gathering was the largest he had ever hosted, and Jack had spent two days preparing all the ingredients: Milanese veal shank, ham and cheese steak, stewed white bean tripe, vegetable-roasted quail, tomato-braised sea bass, seafood Alfredo, Margherita pizza, tiramisu, and even an ice cream cake.

Mrs. Anderson's gaze toward Jack had softened to the point of seeing him as a son-in-law. She had always treated Hannah like her own daughter, so this development was hardly surprising to Jack.

Mr. Anderson, however, had a more scrutinizing look. He had long suspected something. For years, his little girl had spent every evening after work hanging out with a young cop barely out of his teens, hardly home even on weekends.

Now, with his adopted daughter, Hannah, appearing to be deeply in love with this young man, had he not known Jack's marksmanship and the number of criminals he had taken down since becoming a cop, he might have already confronted Jack with a shotgun.

Fortunately, Zoe had given the family some leeway by labeling Jack a "psychologist." Coming from an old political family, Mr. Anderson had seen his share of shady dealings and had his own youthful indiscretions. What mattered most was his daughter's happiness.

Still, Mr. Anderson remained puzzled. Why did the psychologist's look at his daughter seem a bit off?

As the party wound down and guests began to leave, Hannah cheerfully saw everyone out and then scampered into the kitchen to pester Jack, who was still busy.

"Stop it."

Feeling the familiar weight of Hannah clinging to his back and her breath tickling his ear, Jack turned and playfully smeared foam on her pert nose.

"Training was exhausting. My skin's getting rough, and I even got a scrape on my leg. Will it leave a scar?"

Hannah's coquettish tone was laced with a flimsy little lie.

Jack felt a mix of emotions. Five months wasn't that long or short.

In today's world, even Americans, accustomed to fleeting relationships, and his fellow Celisians, found long-distance relationships challenging.

Hannah's consistent, daily video calls and her clingy demeanor since her return spoke volumes.

Jack sighed inwardly. How did he stay single into his 40s in Celis, yet fall so quickly here? Was his wonderful single life really slipping away?

Just as he was about to lift Hannah, ready to savor this ripe cherry that had practically fallen into his lap, his phone rang.

"Jack, Justin and I are in trouble. Can you come to Chicago right away? I need your help to protect a girl," said Chris, the accountant.

Jack's heart skipped a beat. Chris was his financial lifeline for the next year. Nothing could happen to him.

"No problem. Have Justin send me the details."

Jack agreed immediately. As soon as he hung up, a notification from the special chat app Justin had installed on his phone popped up.

Seeing Jack's expression turn serious, Hannah sensed it was important and reluctantly unwound her legs from his waist.

As Jack scanned through the messages, his face grew puzzled, and Hannah, curious, poked his cheek with a finger.

"What's up? Can I know?"

Hannah's unexpected understanding surprised Jack. Given their relationship, he figured it was time she learned a bit more.

Jack briefly explained Chris and Justin's background, especially their dealings in the gray areas of the law and their intricate ties with the IRS supervisor, Simon.

He wasn't sure how Hannah would take this. Though she had agreed to help him seek personal revenge before, she was now newly integrated into the FBI. What if her perspective had shifted?

"Is he the accountant who got you the IRS job?" Hannah's eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Yes. My mortgage plan relies on the trade company he's setting up. If something happens to him, I might end up needing you to support me."

Hannah's eyes darted around thoughtfully, her expression comically conflicted, making Jack laugh. As much as relying on someone else had its advantages, the idea clashed with his intrinsic Celisian pride.

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