Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
It was a usual occurrence in Chicago, so that wasn’t the issue. I always gave out cash when I had some on me, generally to teenagers or unhoused folks with pets. The issue wasn’t the request for funds, it was simply that he was way too close to me.
If it were just me, fine, but I had Margo. And maybe he typically had good luck coming up on people with kids, but I somehow doubted it.
“No, man, sorry,” I said, taking a step back. “I don’t have anything on me.”
“I’m sure you do,” he snarled, crowding close.
Normally, unhurt, without Margo, I would have walked away, but I was stuck there, with one arm, and this guy was nearly touching the little girl.
“Step back,” I ordered, moving myself.
“Fuck you,” he said under his breath, and then I saw the knife.
I had been around thousands of unhoused people, and the majority were not violent, and even more were not mentally unwell. This guy was both, and from the state of his skin, and his teeth when he bared them at me, I could tell he was a meth addict. It was just wrong place, wrong time.
“Back away,” I said, wondering about his thought process. He was trying to intimidate me, on the street, in broad daylight, threatening me with a knife. It was surreal.
When he lunged at me, I had no recourse but to defend myself. I kicked him squarely in the groin. I was wearing my Converse, but still, I kicked him hard, and he dropped, and when he did, I put my foot on his wrist and told him I’d break it if he tried to lift up off the ground.
“Oh my God,” a woman said, running up beside me. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, putting pressure on the guy’s wrist when he tried to move.
“My son and I saw the whole thing. There’s a policeman right around the corner, and I sent my boy to—here he comes.”
Two female police officers were running after the woman’s son, who pointed.
“You protected your little angel,” she cooed, rubbing Margo’s back.
There were lots of people with their phones out, and I groaned because that was going to be a mess.
Both officers asked if I was all right, and they put on their gloves before they moved the knife out of harm’s way and cuffed the guy.
“I’ll go to the car for the evidence bag,” the older officer told the younger one. “Be right back.”
The guy, facedown on the sidewalk, wasn’t moving.
“How hard did you kick him?”
“The man was threatening his child,” the woman told the officer. “However hard it was wasn’t hard enough.”
“Oh, I’m not arguing,” the officer told her. “I’d just like to learn the angle.”
They shared a smile then.
“The hell happened out here?” Bodhi grumbled when he reached us.
“Who are you?” the officer asked, standing up.
“Deputy US Marshal Bodhi Callahan,” he said, lifting his T-shirt, flashing her some gorgeous golden skin as well as his badge. “This is my partner, Deputy US Marshal Josiah Redeker.”
“And this is your daughter,” the woman said, like she was going to cry. “How sweet is this?”
No one corrected her, just talked to both officers, and then the older one, Hartman, brought over an evidence bag and her tablet.
“You’re law enforcement?” she asked me.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, thank God. I thought this was going to take all day.”
I was a great report giver. It was a strength of mine. I was concise and thorough. I commended Mrs. Oberman and her son for helping me, and explained how I never would have kicked the guy if he had taken no for an answer.
“Well, we’ve had a few muggings around here, and the assailant used a knife in all three cases, so…we’ll see how this shakes out.”
Bodhi, who always carried cards in his wallet, passed one to Hartman and explained that she could get us both at that number, as we were only visiting from Chicago.
Once the guy was taken into custody, there was scattered applause. I waved, thanked Mrs. Oberman and her son, Faraz, and then Bodhi took hold of my bicep and led me halfway down the street.
“I can’t take you anywhere,” he teased, smiling.
“Listen, you should go to the fancy dinner with Hayden and your soon-to-be in-laws.”
“What?”
I gave him a deadpan look.
“I’d rather work a week in Asset Forfeiture.”
That was surprising. “Why?”
He shook his head, looking everywhere but at me.
“Tell me.”
His gaze refocused on me. “You’ve never seen so many people so very horrified to learn that Hayden is marrying a guy with a blue-collar job.”
“But you don’t care,” I reminded him.
“No, it’s true, but I don’t want to have to go to their parties either.”
He had a point.
“Besides, I found a place we can go and get Mexican, and the reviews are all really good. I figured we’d try it out, take everyone with us not going to the fancy party.”