“Why do you make me suffer through this shit every morning?” Tucker asked as he took another sip from the biggest coffee mug I’d ever seen in my life. I swore it was the size of a Big Gulp. How he drank at least two of those every day and didn’t keel over from a heart attack was beyond me. “Old habits,” I lied, acting like listening to this show was nothing more than continuing what I’d done since I was a kid. “Then let’s make new ones.” He reached for the radio, and I smacked his giant Neanderthal hands away. Tucker was a hulk of a man at six feet four inches tall. It was a wonder he was hired to go undercover; it wasn’t like the guy could hide very well. But he was good at his job, despite his size. “Don’t touch my fucking radio. I drive, I pick the station. You can choose what we listen to when you drive.” I glared at him, pretending to be pissed, but enjoying the opportunity to give him a little shit.
