Sergeant
Caspian stood in the kitchen of Goldie’s Revenge arguing with the bar owner as
blocked the doorway to the basement stairs. The woman stared up at him, shoving
her forefinger into his chest. “I know what I heard. And, I’m telling you, it’s
going to stop right here and now.” She shoved the point of her half-inch
fingernail into his sternum. He grabbed her finger and held it in place. She
struggled to pull it back, “let me go.”
“Ma’am. You
will stop,” he practically threw her hand away.
“I don’t care
who’s down there. This is my bar. Not a torture chamber. Either you go down and
put an end to it or I will.”
“My orders are
clear. Back away from the door now, ma’am,” Sergeant Caspian ordered, his body
tensed.
