Page 20 of So Smitten

“Why didn’t you drink some at the station?”

“I said I need coffee, not brown water.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Does Ellie put up with your snobbishness?”

“Ellie shares my snobbishness. She doesn’t even drink chain coffee anymore after I took her to Morning Glory.”

“Good for both of you,” Faith replied, “but if Keenan is out running drugs when we arrive, I’m going to hold you personally responsible.”

“Works for me,” Michael said cheerfully.

Twenty minutes later, coffee in hand—in both their hands, as Michael made sure to point out—they arrived at Black Betty. From the outside, the club looked like the worst dive bar Faith had ever seen. She hoped not to have to see the inside.

Fortunately, her prayers were answered when a man fitting Garvey’s description of Keenan Washington walked out of the club with a grin on his face. The grin vanished when he saw the three agents approaching. He looked around for a place to run to, but when he looked back at Turk, his better judgment took over. He lifted his hands and said, “I ain’t talking to cops.”

“We’re not cops,” Faith said, “I’m Special Agent Faith Bold and this is my partner, Special Agent Michael Prince. We need to talk to you.”

“That ain’t my problem,” Keenan said.

"Actually," Michael replied, "it is. Now, you can get in the car and come with us, or we can have this conversation in front of your boys. And your girls."

“You can have a conversation with my lawyer,” Keenan said, jutting his jaw out.”

Faith stepped closer so she could lower her voice. “Or we can have a conversation with your buddies inside,” she said, “and tell them all about how much you actually do talk to cops.”

Keenan flashed her an irritated glance and whispered, “Man, are you stupid? Arrest me. I can’t be seen going willingly. You have to cuff me and take me somewhere else.”

Faith and Michael shared an exasperated glance. Then Faith said, louder this time, "All right, Washington. Do you want to do this the hard way? I can make that happen. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“Man, fuck you guys,” Keenan groused. “I’m tired of this shit. You guys always come harassing us and—”

“Quiet,” Michael said and meant it.

Keenan clammed up but refused to turn and put his hands behind his back willingly, forcing Faith to turn him around and clamp the handcuffs on roughly. He protested again, muttering under his breath as they forced him into the car.

A small crowd had gathered in front of the club during this interaction. Faith looked at the flat-faced girls and the hard-eyed men and wondered what kind of life they must have lived to have so much animosity toward law enforcement.

As soon as they pulled out of sight of the club, Keenan said, “Okay, you can take the cuffs off now.”

“We’ll take them off when we stop,” Faith said.

“Hey, come on. That wasn’t the deal.”

“We don’t make deals,” Michael said. “We ask questions, and you answer them, and if you don’t, we make trouble for you. I strongly suggest that you don’t make trouble for us.”

Keenan scoffed. “Man, I work with Atlanta PD. What are you gonna do to me?”

“If you really feel you’re untouchable,” Faith replied, “Please test us.”

Turk growled, and Keenan glanced nervously over at the passenger seat. "All right, all right. Look, I'm going to talk to you. Just can you please take the handcuffs off? It’s cutting into my wrist.”

“We’ll be stopping in a few minutes,” Michael said. “Hang tight.”

“Man,” Keenan whined. “You guys are assholes.”

Faith had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

Michael pulled into a diner a few minutes later, as promised, and Faith helped Keenan out of the car and took off the handcuffs. Keenan rubbed his wrists and pouted. “This better be good,” he said, “I was going to hook up with Yadira today. You oughta see her. She’s got tits the size of a—”

---