“Thank you, Lady Luck,” Cora murmured.
Suzette, still ranting on the other end of the phone, halted midsentence. “Old lady,” she corrected. “Which is just stupid, since I’m only like, one month older than him.”
“Suze, I have to call you back. I’m in the middle of something.” Cora didn’t wait for her friend to respond, but quickly disconnected and yanked a pair of handcuffs from her glove compartment. Unfortunately, she wasn’t carrying her sidearm, but she’d had enough self-defense training to take him down without the threat of a gun, if it came to that.
Nero Polinsky looked like a walking stereotype as he shoved his ex and charged toward a black Dodge Ram. He was in his midthirties with a closely shaved head to hide his receding hairline, and he was wearing a Tapout shirt like an MMA fighter, except Cora doubted he’d entered a gym in over a decade. His truck had a CB whip and four headlights across the top, with a bumper sticker that read, “Gas, Ass or Grass: Nobody rides for free.” And if that didn’t indicate his hard-core manliness, the dangling aluminum testicles attached under the rear bumper really brought it home. Charming.
“I said, don’t touch me,” the woman screeched, tripping along behind him in her six-inch platform heels.
Nero spun around and shoved her, sending her sprawling onto the ground.
Cora inched closer, ducking behind the parked cars to stay undetected.
“I want my money, Starla,” Nero shouted. “And I know you took it.”
Starla wobbled, pushing herself to her feet. She scowled at her fingers, then at Nero. The look of fury on her face was hot enough to melt the aluminum balls on his truck. “You broke my nail.”
Nero dug into the back of his truck and withdrew an aluminum bat. He hitched it over one shoulder and smirked at Starla.
Showtime. Cora’s muscles tensed. She had to move fast before he hurt her.
“That’s not all I’m gonna break, bitch.” Nero spun toward the rusted Camaro beside his truck and swung the bat, shattering the taillight with a loud crack.
“Not my car!” Starla screeched, but Nero was on a mission, and he showed no signs of tapping out. He lifted the bat again and swung, smashing the bumper. Then the driver’s side window.
“Freeze!” Cora shouted, keeping several feet of distance between her and him. It was disconcerting not to have a gun to back up her command, but she’d work with what she had. She dug into her pocket and flashed her badge at the incredulous Nero, who was blinking at her like she’d just materialized out of thin air.
“Police,” Cora said in the monotone voice she’d adopted early in her career. “Drop the weapon and step away from the car.”
Nero’s eyebrows rose, and he let out a raspy laugh. “No can do, blondie. Why don’t you head on inside and climb a pole? Do something useful with yourself.”
“You’re the police?” Starla gave Cora a skeptical once-over.
“I am,” Cora said calmly.
Starla looked unconvinced. She pursed her cherry red lips, and said, “Girl, if you’re really a cop, you’re going to have to do something about your look.”
“Oh, yeah?” Cora said conversationally, keeping her gaze trained on Nero. “What do you suggest?”
“For starters, you gotta lose those ringlets.” Starla placed a hand on her hip and snapped her gum. She seemed to have forgotten that her unstable ex was standing just one swing away with a baseball bat. “The goldilocks thing isn’t going to win you any intimidation points. And, maybe drop the mascara. It makes your blue eyes look too big and, I don’t know. Blinky.”
“Blinky,” Cora repeated. “Got it. Thanks. Can you do me a favor, Starla, and stand just a little farther over there? I don’t want you to break any more nails when I take him down.”
Nero let out a bark of laughter. “You offering to go down on me, blondie? I’m game if you are.”
“Just stand over there, okay?” she said to Starla, ignoring him. “This will only take a minute.”
Starla glared at her broken fingernail again, then held her hands up with a look that said, It’s your funeral. She backed away toward the wall.
Nero slapped the aluminum bat into his beefy hand, leering at Cora. “What’s it gonna be, blondie? You want a piece of me?”
Cora’s muscles tensed, preparing for whatever came next. “I don’t suppose you’d do the smart thing and just toss the bat and come with me quietly?”
His oily gaze slid over her body, taking in her tennis shoes, dark denim jeans and fitted T-shirt. Up close, Cora could see his dilated pupils and the slight shake of his hands. Whatever Nero was on, it wasn’t weed. He licked his lips, leering at her chest. “Let Nero take you for a ride, doll. I guarantee you won’t be coming quietly.”
Starla let out a derisive snort. “Because she won’t be coming at all.”
Nero sent Starla a murderous glare. He tightened his grip on the bat, then spun and took out the windshield of her car.
Starla shrieked, spewing more profanities that mostly called his sexual stamina into question. Apparently, this was a hot button with Nero, because he roared, raised the bat and bolted toward Starla.
Cora burst into action. She blocked his path, falling back on her twelve years of karate and self-defense training.
He wound the bat, ready to swing. She shot forward, closing the distance between them, using a chop block on his arms before he could gain any momentum with the bat. Lightning fast, she slid her hand underneath his arm and grabbed the bat above his grip. Yanking back hard, she pulled it free and tossed it behind her.
Nero blinked in thunderous surprise.
Cora quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him down into a wrist lock, twisting with just the right amount of pressure. He yelped, his face contorting in pain as he dropped to his knees.
Cora grimaced. She had him now. “Down on the ground.”
He toppled face-first, his foul curses muffled in the gravel.
She drove her knee hard into his kidney, then pulled her cuffs from her back pocket and slapped them on his wrists. It was over in less than ten seconds.
Then Cora glanced at Starla, who was gaping at her as if she’d just grown a pair of horns. “Call 911,” Cora said calmly.
Starla swallowed visibly, then nodded. “Dang, girl. Never mind the ringlets. You’ve got moves.”
* * *
It was seven o’clock that evening when Cora found herself ordering another round of margaritas at a university pub. She’d been only half listening to Suzette gush over the new laser machine at the medical spa where she worked. She was obsessed with all the latest and greatest beauty trends, and even though Cora was interested in “fighting the good fight,” as Suzette put it, she could only take so much talk of skin care and facial treatments.