My voice sounded like the croak of a waterlogged bullfrog.The man behind me pressed a little closer. I swallowed and tried to breathe. “What are you offering?” he rumbled.“My wallet’s—” I began, but in that instant my memory clicked into place. This same scenario had played out just a few days before. I took a deep breath through my nose, straightened slightly, and shifted my gaze cautiously to the left. “If you’re Rivera I’m going to kill you,” I said.There was absolute silence, then, “What if I’m not Rivera?”Something thumped in my chest. I think it was my heart hitting the light pole. I turned slowly, then glanced up.Officer Tavis stood not three feet away. Tall and handsome and as innocuous as flan. He was eating an ice-cream cone that he held in his left hand.“I take it you and Rivera aren’t quite ready to tie the knot,” he surmised. The words were a little muffled as he licked his cone.“What the hell is wrong with you guys?” I asked. Tavis was a cop for a McTown nestled quietly up against the mountains a half a lifetime to the west of L.A.
