“Mentally challenged, sugar. At leasttryto be politically correct.” I squat down and search for identification as the police charge the stairs.
Unfortunately, before I can interrogate the brain surgeon who broke into my house, two of New York’s finest burst into my kitchen. “Everyone, hands up.”
Smirking, the two Patten men, dressed in company t-shirts and black jeans raise their arms. Me? I’m pissed. If I waited for the law to arrive, me and Sam could be dead. Still, I don’t want to be arrested, so I do as asked.
“What happened here?” A rookie, probably right out of college, tries to look tough.
Wheels and the other Patten man, both with military tats, share my disdain. Basically, our look says you better take your shit tone down a notch or you may end up in the hospital.
Dicer, twice the kid’s age, towers over him. “You want to try asking me again, son?”
The second officer grins and as he pulls our suspect to his feet, the rookie turns red and stammers. “I n-need to p-put something in my report.”
“Use your eyes.” Dicer raises his brows, staring pointedly at the crowbar on the floor but the whole act is missed by the newbie.
Sam feels sorry for the kid. She plugs in our coffee pod machine and sets mugs on the table.
“Let me start off by saying there isn’t much to tell. We heard wood crack, then this douchebag broke into our place. The silent alarms went off and called our security company who notified you.
I still can’t believe the fucking moron destroyed the original wood door. How am I supposed to replace it?
After the cops leave, both bodyguards sit and Dicer asks, “Just what are you two investigating?”
I glare at my wife. “It was supposed to be a cheating husband.”
Wheels must’ve heard about Sam’s tendency to attract trouble because the blond grins ear to ear. “So, what happened?”
She shrugs. “A shooting. Not my fault, by the way. Please be so kind as to let everyone know. Somehow, I got this reputation as a danger magnet.”
I snort out my nose. “I wonder why?”
