position on the ground, spat out a mouthful of snow and yelled, very clearly, "Stormy!"
He was my tenant, Logan Sanderson.
I didn't even think about what I was doing. I slipped on the shoes closest to the front door and ran out to stop whatever was happening.
"Tony!" That didn't get his attention, so I yelled, "Police brutality!"
Tony kept his knee on Logan's back while he gave me an angry, confused look. "How long has this man been stalking you?"
"He's not a stalker." I crossed my arms, as much to prevent myself from pilfering the handcuff keys from Tony as to keep the chilly air from infiltrating my bathrobe.
"You know this man?" Tony demanded.
Logan groaned. "I told you, man, I'm—" He didn't finish, because Tony shoved his face into the snow again.
Now Tony had gone too far. This kind of casual violence was the sort of thing that gave some small-town cops a bad reputation.
I uncrossed my arms, strode forward purposefully, and shoved Tony off Logan. He wasn't expecting it, and landed awkwardly in the snow. His dark brown eyes blazed at me with fury.
"Uncuff him." I pointed to Logan's wrists.
"Stormy, I'm just trying to protect you," Tony said. "I was driving by and saw this guy prowling around your house."
"I wasn't prowling," Logan protested.
"You were prowling," Tony growled.
"Prowling isn't a crime," I said. "And what does that mean, anyway? My cat prowls around with a stuffed mouse in his mouth. Is that what Logan was doing out here? Was he on his hands and knees, prowling around in the snow? What are you arresting him for?"
"I'll think of something," Tony said.
"Just let him go," I said forcefully. "Let him go or you'll have to cuff me as well, because I will come at you." I held my fists up in what I hoped was a menacing fashion. "Prepare to be… prowled on."
Tony winced at my efforts, then righted himself and reached into his pocket for his keys. He was in no apparent hurry to uncuff Logan, moving just fast enough to keep me from shoving him again.
"Captain Milano, you do realize Logan lives here, right? You can't be a prowler or a stalker at your own house."
Tony flashed his eyes at me while slowly going through his ring of keys.
Had Logan been prowling? A moment earlier, I'd been standing in my brightly lit living room, wearing little more than a robe, at two in the morning. Tony must have been driving by when he spotted a man standing in my yard, watching me.
How long had Logan been watching me? Despite a few jerky comments when we'd first met, he didn't seem creepy, but now I wondered if I'd been blind to something. I wanted my tenant to be a good guy, so had I overlooked negative traits? Was he spying on me through my windows regularly? Were there rooms in the house where he could hear me, the way I'd heard someone in his bathroom?
Logan was wearing boots, fully laced up, and a winter jacket. The jacket was zipped up, which made me think he'd been coming back from a walk, and not on his way out. Not every guy is the same, but in my experience, men run a bit warm and wait until they've been outside for a while before they zip their jackets.
While Tony ever so slowly uncuffed Logan, I leaned over and placed my hand on the back of Logan's boot. It was cold; he'd been outside for more than a few minutes. I'd been in my washroom for at least twenty minutes, doing a fifteen-minute face mask. If Logan had been watching me while I sat with the cat, he would have assumed I'd gone off to bed when I disappeared down the hallway.
Therefore, Logan was not a creepy stalker, and had been coming home from a walk when he spotted me in the window. Maybe he thought I could see him, and stopped to wave hello. That would be the neighborly thing to do.
The handcuffs clicked as they released, and Logan got to his knees with a groan. He moved slowly, his eyes darting to Tony's gun holster and then sheepishly to my face, then down at the ground again before repeating the pattern.
"I'm so sorry," I said to
He was my tenant, Logan Sanderson.
I didn't even think about what I was doing. I slipped on the shoes closest to the front door and ran out to stop whatever was happening.
"Tony!" That didn't get his attention, so I yelled, "Police brutality!"
Tony kept his knee on Logan's back while he gave me an angry, confused look. "How long has this man been stalking you?"
"He's not a stalker." I crossed my arms, as much to prevent myself from pilfering the handcuff keys from Tony as to keep the chilly air from infiltrating my bathrobe.
"You know this man?" Tony demanded.
Logan groaned. "I told you, man, I'm—" He didn't finish, because Tony shoved his face into the snow again.
Now Tony had gone too far. This kind of casual violence was the sort of thing that gave some small-town cops a bad reputation.
I uncrossed my arms, strode forward purposefully, and shoved Tony off Logan. He wasn't expecting it, and landed awkwardly in the snow. His dark brown eyes blazed at me with fury.
"Uncuff him." I pointed to Logan's wrists.
"Stormy, I'm just trying to protect you," Tony said. "I was driving by and saw this guy prowling around your house."
"I wasn't prowling," Logan protested.
"You were prowling," Tony growled.
"Prowling isn't a crime," I said. "And what does that mean, anyway? My cat prowls around with a stuffed mouse in his mouth. Is that what Logan was doing out here? Was he on his hands and knees, prowling around in the snow? What are you arresting him for?"
"I'll think of something," Tony said.
"Just let him go," I said forcefully. "Let him go or you'll have to cuff me as well, because I will come at you." I held my fists up in what I hoped was a menacing fashion. "Prepare to be… prowled on."
Tony winced at my efforts, then righted himself and reached into his pocket for his keys. He was in no apparent hurry to uncuff Logan, moving just fast enough to keep me from shoving him again.
"Captain Milano, you do realize Logan lives here, right? You can't be a prowler or a stalker at your own house."
Tony flashed his eyes at me while slowly going through his ring of keys.
Had Logan been prowling? A moment earlier, I'd been standing in my brightly lit living room, wearing little more than a robe, at two in the morning. Tony must have been driving by when he spotted a man standing in my yard, watching me.
How long had Logan been watching me? Despite a few jerky comments when we'd first met, he didn't seem creepy, but now I wondered if I'd been blind to something. I wanted my tenant to be a good guy, so had I overlooked negative traits? Was he spying on me through my windows regularly? Were there rooms in the house where he could hear me, the way I'd heard someone in his bathroom?
Logan was wearing boots, fully laced up, and a winter jacket. The jacket was zipped up, which made me think he'd been coming back from a walk, and not on his way out. Not every guy is the same, but in my experience, men run a bit warm and wait until they've been outside for a while before they zip their jackets.
While Tony ever so slowly uncuffed Logan, I leaned over and placed my hand on the back of Logan's boot. It was cold; he'd been outside for more than a few minutes. I'd been in my washroom for at least twenty minutes, doing a fifteen-minute face mask. If Logan had been watching me while I sat with the cat, he would have assumed I'd gone off to bed when I disappeared down the hallway.
Therefore, Logan was not a creepy stalker, and had been coming home from a walk when he spotted me in the window. Maybe he thought I could see him, and stopped to wave hello. That would be the neighborly thing to do.
The handcuffs clicked as they released, and Logan got to his knees with a groan. He moved slowly, his eyes darting to Tony's gun holster and then sheepishly to my face, then down at the ground again before repeating the pattern.
"I'm so sorry," I said to
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