A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(123)
He finally gave them a once-over then asked, “Yeah?”
“Um, we were told you had illegal drugs for sale.”
Sun almost lost it. Holy cow, her daughter would never make it as an undercover cop. Not necessarily a bad thing.
Cruz stepped up to the plate. “We want to try mescaline. The good shit, not the knockoff. You got any?”
Suddenly, Auri’s choice in potential boyfriends was being brought into question. He was good. A little too good.
The guy laughed. “Man, you have come to the wrong place. Who told you some shit like that, holmes?”
“My friend Lucky,” he said.
“Well, your friend Lucky is a liar.” He leaned closer to them. “Haven’t you heard? Drugs are bad.”
“Come on,” Cruz said, pushing it. “Do we look like cops? We just want to try it.”
“You know what you can try?”
“What?” Auri asked.
“You can try to get the fuck outta my world, because if I see your skinny asses trying to buy drugs again, I am going to rip you apart. Both of you.”
Cruz laughed it off and took on the persona of a gangster. “Fuck you, man. What are you gonna do?”
In a move that happened so fast even Sun was stunned, the guy opened his door and had Cruz by the collar and thrown against the truck.
While Auri’s hands shot to cover her mouth, Cruz signaled that he was okay, waving his hand by his side in negation, letting them know not to come in just yet.
The guy leaned in close.
Cruz stared him down, refusing to break eye contact. The kid was good.
“You know what they do to pretty boys like you in prison?”
“Stop!” Auri yelled, and Sun’s adrenaline skyrocketed.
“That’s it,” Sun said. “This is over.”
Auri literally turned around to her—or to her position, as it was doubtful the girl could see her mother past the shrubs—and scowled at her, lifting her hands and shrugging, every ounce of her demeanor screaming, “What the hell?”
She was acting? Seriously? Maybe she did have the chops for undercover police work. Not that she would wish that on her worst enemy.
Sun canceled her orders and said, “Sorry, bug. Carry on.”
She shrugged again and shook her head, then went back to her promising career as a soap star. Or a hardened criminal. Either way.
“Stop it! Let him go!” She ran up to the man and tried to pull him off her potential boyfriend—her descriptor—and Sun cringed. All he’d have to do was swing his elbow back and she’d have a broken jaw.
Instead, he confirmed Sun’s suspicions. He let go of Cruz and wrapped an arm around Auri to restrain her, to try to calm her down.
“Stop, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I won’t hurt him, I promise.”
“That’s what I needed,” Sun said. “Let’s go.”
Quincy turned on his siren and lights and stormed the beach, so to speak, as Zee, Sun, and Jimmy emerged from their hiding places.
The guy threw his hands up in anger and hit his palm against the truck. Not hard enough to do any damage, however. Then he saw the rifle that had been aimed at his head and paled.
Zee opened the bed of his truck, rested her secured rifle there, then rushed forward to handcuff him.
He didn’t fight her, but he wasn’t happy. “Man, this is some bullshit. I didn’t even do anything.”
“You assaulted a teen,” Sun said. “For starters.”
He laid his head back as Zee got the cuffs around his wrists. “This is such bullshit.”
“Yeah, you said that.”
Jimmy’s face was one solid smile. “Yeah, you said that, scum-bag.”
“That’s it,” she said to him. “No more Miami Vice reruns for you.”
27
Caller reported 50 lbs. of green chile stolen from his freezer.
A national manhunt is under way.
—DEL SOL POLICE BLOTTER
Back at the station, Sun sent the kids to Caffeine-Wah for mocha lattes, instructing Richard and Ricky to use decaf in Auri’s.
“Can we come back?” Auri asked her. “You know, for the thing?”
Sun nodded, then went in search of a wanted fugitive.
She stepped into the interview room and sat across from a very perturbed Latino. Opening the file she’d been studying, she said, “You have quite the record, Rojas.”
He played with the chain that held him cuffed to the table, metal scraping against metal.
“You did well while you were inside. You got a bachelor’s in criminal justice in under three years. I’m impressed.”
Nothing. He refused to even look at her.
“Just one thing—you did it all using your name and inmate number. But to go to school, you have to use your social. And that social doesn’t match your name or your inmate number.”
When he finally met her gaze, his was cold and full of distrust. “Not every Latino sells drugs, you know.”
“Really?” She called out the open door to her half-Latino BFF. “Cooper, do you sell drugs?”
“Every chance I get.”
“What about you, Salazar?”
Tricia giggled, then said, “Only on weekends. I don’t want it interfering with my law enforcement gig.”