Page 85 of Mack

“Hands above your head.” When Troy hesitated Mack pressed the barrel harder. “Now.”

The hands went up. Mack patted him down, found his wallet, then seized his wrist and wrenched it behind his back. He uncocked the hammer, holstered the Glock, and snapped the cuffs on.

“You’re under arrest.” He recited the Miranda rights and shoved Troy onto the sofa. “Sit down.”

Troy’s bloodshot eyes narrowed. “Don’t get pushy. I wasn’t going to hurt the kid.”

“That kid,” Mack said, “is a three-year-old little boy, and you terrified him.” He held Troy’s gaze. “Same as you’ve always done to Mallory. You don’t deserve either of them.”

“Is that what she told you?” A sneer spread across his face. “She lied to you, man.”

“It’s Deputy Reinhardt.” Mack pulled out his phone, called for backup, then dropped into the chair opposite and stared at him for a few seconds. “And if you think I’d take your word over hers, you’re dumber than you look.”

“Man—”

“You have the right to remain silent.” He dropped his voice. “I suggest you use it.”

He stood, crossed to the front door, and opened it, scanning the yard. Through the windshield of his truck he could see Mallory, T.J. pressed against her. He pushed the door shut.

Troy was halfway off the sofa. He froze when Mack’s hand dropped to the Glock.

“You are dumber than you look.” Mack tilted his head.

“I’m not dumb,” Troy snapped.

“Really? You’re handcuffed… behind your back, and you still think you can take me.”

“Take the handcuffs off and we’ll see,” Troy said.

Mack looked at him for a moment, then laughed. “I’m about fifty pounds heavier than you and I’ve got at least six inches on you. And I’m not talking just height.” He watched Troy’s jaw tighten.

“Bigger they are,” Troy muttered.

Mack walked toward him. “Get up.”

“Why?”

“I’m taking the cuffs off.” He tilted his head. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I don’t trust you. You’d shoot me and say I attacked you.”

“You have a very vivid imagination.”

Troy slumped against the cushions. “Whatever.”

“You’re the one who wanted them off.”

“Fuck you.” Troy got to his feet. “Fine. Take them off. I just need one shot.”

Mack shook his head slowly. “You sure about that?”

“You scared?”

“Shaking in my boots.”

“Take them off,” Troy said, louder.

Mack spun him around, unlocked the cuffs, and turned him back to face him.