“So, you’re making sure the bad guys stay locked up?” I joked.
She giggled. “Something like that.”
“Are we leaving or what?” Jordan snapped from behind me. “You said we have a job to do.”
I looked at him incredulously, wondering why he was suddenly in such a hurry. Not to mention that he was rude.
“Maria, this is my partner, Jordan Slade.” I did the introduction. “Or, as I call him, an acquired taste.”
“Very funny,” Jordan murmured, shaking her hand.
“Buck, pass me the popcorn,” Maddox said, chuckling. “This is better than a soap opera.”
Buck frowned. “We don’t have popcorn. Do we? I’m kinda hungry.”
“I was being sarcastic, Buck. Jesus. Nevermind.”
His royal madness was lucky that I didn’t have time for his shit today.
“Excuse me, Maria, but we’re on our way out,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Looking forward to it.”
That was how Jordan and I found ourselves on a stakeout that came at the worst possible time. Close quarters triggered me after our prison adventure, so no wonder I felt like a rat in a maze. Jordan, who sat in the passenger seat, looked equally fidgety.
“Figures that Santiago’s lawyer can afford this mansion, considering his clients,” Jordan murmured. “He has good taste, too.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, checking out a three-story house across the street. “But it’s easy to have good taste when you’re loaded.”
The mansion was located in a part of Smitsville that only people with deep pockets could afford. One of those pockets belonged to Boris Flynn, attorney at law. He was the sole owner of Flynn & Montgomery Law Services after his partner died in a suspicious car crash.
“What else do we know about Mr. Flynn?” I said, stretching my stiff legs.
“You mean except that he associates with criminals and he helped his partner die?” Jordan said dryly. “He’s a masochist. He likes to be dominated by beautiful women with an occasional golden shower.”
I chuckled. “Good for him.”
“He also announced that he would run for mayor.”
“A corrupt mayor? I can’t run away from those, can I?”
“What do you mean?” Jordan asked me.
“Because my father was one.”
He blinked. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died in prison.”
After I’d shocked him into silence, I looked at him. “What? Do you think I became the way I am because of my father?”
“Which way?”
“A jackass, a piece of shit, and everything else you think about me but won’t admit. God forbid it ruins your golden boy persona.”
