Page 90 of Always Salty

I didn’t say a thing.

“You’re under arrest,” he stated.

My brows rose.

“For what?” Jim asked for me.

Damn, I knew that I’d liked the guy.

“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to go inside,” the FBI guy’s partner, this one at least dressed a little bit more professionally, said.

“I think the fuck not,” Jim disagreed. “I’m not done watering my plants. I have a routine. And this is a free country. I can be outside if I want to be outside.”

“You’re interrupting a federal investigation,” FBI guy number three barked as he came out from behind his car, as if he’d been worried that I was going to attack him at any moment.

FBI guys number four, five, and six all stayed back and watched, ready to lend a hand if needed.

“Actually, I’m watering my plants, not interrupting an investigation.” He paused. “But, just sayin’, investigation doesn’t mean arrest. You have to have probable cause for an arrest.”

“There was,” FBI number one disagreed. “This man was harassing a federal agent.”

“When?” Jim asked. “Because, just sayin’, if you say it happened here, it didn’t. Because I have cameras all around this house and in my yard since that motherfucker,” he pointed across the road, “moved in. I think if anyone is going to get arrested, it should be that man for dumping cats. It’s a class A misdemeanor in Texas. For a man that calls himself the ‘law’ he should really be following it.”

Ol’ Jim was right.

It was illegal in Texas and was considered animal cruelty.

Since I’d joined the military, I’d spent a lot of my spare time studying up on the laws, knowing that eventually I’d get out and need to know them if I was going to work with Shasha full-time.

Plus, having a really good memory, I could remember most if not all of them.

Hell, if I really wanted to, I could probably go pass the bar right now.

Speaking of bar…

“And how do you know that?” FBI guy number two asked.

“I’m a lawyer,” Jim said, rolling his eyes. “Retired, but still. I could get this one out of a murder charge right now if he decided to fuck you up.”

Again, had I said how much I liked Jim?

“Sir…”

“You’re under arrest,” Chester Brown growled. “Let me see your hands.”

I gave them to him, and he roughly yanked my arms behind my back.

I allowed it, of course, because if ol’ Jim really did have cameras, I wanted to make sure that it looked really good if this went any further.

“Oh, boy,” Jim cooed. “I’m going to represent this man, and when I do, I’m going to have that badge you’ve abused for the last few months.”

FBI agent number one shifted on his feet. “Um, Chester. I don’t know if you know this or not, but you can’t hurt him.”

I rolled my eyes as Chester tightened the cuffs so tight that it started digging into my skin.

I allowed it, though, because I knew I’d be getting some good photos of his abuse later.

Another car pulled up, and Shasha’s lawyer got out of the car, heading toward us with an authoritative stride that demanded attention.

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