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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

When I rap a knuckle on the heavy wooden door of the mayor’s office, the man spins his chair and looks up.

“Chief Mitchell. Come in.”

“Thanks. This won’t take long.”

He makes a pfft sound and holds up a miniature golf-club. “Take all the time you like, I was just practicing my putt. No meetings this afternoon.”

I fight the eye-roll. Glad someone’s not busy. The men in my department are doing enough for everyone, I guess.

“If this is about the budget for those upgrades, I’ve got you covered. The former chief harassed me to no end. I should be able to get you a quarter of what you asked for next month.”

I raise a brow. “A quarter?”

“The rest won’t be far behind.”

“Good. We need a lot of updated equipment.”

“I understand. You guys do a fine job, though. Fine. But I’m starting to worry about these business fires.”

Grumbling, I reply, “Me too. Our new hire is working the cases now. She’s got a good eye for the details that could help us solve it.”

“She’s quite the looker. I looked her up and saw the news clips from those other cases.”

A shard of ice lodges itself in my neck, followed by a surge of bitter, violent heat. I’m surprised the papers on his desk don’t ignite. “Ms. Ellis is a very competent firefighter.”

He chuckles and whirls his stupid plastic golf club around. “How long before one of your guys breaks the no fraternization rule?”

“That’s what I’m here about.”

His eyes turn curious, like when the town gossip tunes into something that they will shout to the hills. Mayor Dick Johnson is one of my least favorite people on Earth. Now I’m sure I was right in my judgment.

“Who?” he asks, leaning forward, practically salivating.

“Me.”

That snaps his mouth shut. The plastic golf club clatters to the desk.

“You’re kidding. I know you’ve got a dark sense of humor.”

I look him dead in the eye.

His mouth flattens. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

He clears his throat and sticks a finger beneath his collar as his color turns a putrid shade of red. “Well, this is a problem.”

“Is it?”

“One of you has to be put on leave until a hearing can be held.”

“Or you can give me a pass, change the rule.”

“I. Will. Not.” Adjusting his stupid looking vest, he looks appalled I’d suggest such a thing.

I stand up. “Call me when you want me to report back for duty. Or if you decide to fire me. Otherwise, don’t bother me.”

I’m walking toward the door when he loudly says, “Are you sure that a piece of ass is worth throwing your career away?”

God, what I’d give to be able to break his fucking legs as I turn him into a pretzel and shove him into the cup on that stupid putting green.

I turn into a snorting bull. Learning over the desk, face to face with the asshole, I hiss, “See this?” I hold up my fist. “It’s six inches across. Do you know what a fist like this does to a soft, saggy face like yours?”

He meeps. Barely loud enough for me to hear, then he says, “You’re a barbarian.”

I lean closer. “Ever call Avery a piece of ass again, you’re mine. I won’t stop until you’re unrecognizable.”

He makes a strangled sound. As I’m walking across his office, he yells, “I’ll fire you over this.”

“You don’t have to. I quit. I’m done working for assholes like you.”