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Sean passed by the Porsches, baby Beemers and hand-me-down Mercedes and marched up the stone steps and into the sprawling kitchen. Even with the cotton balls buffering the sounds, the music was so loud he could feel his heart cringe with every smack of the overloaded bass.
“Hey!” he shouted over the music as he pushed his way through the gyrating nineteen-year-olds. “Hey!” he screamed again. No one paid him any attention, which was why he’d brought the bat. He walked over to the makeshift bar set up on the kitchen island, raised his trusty wooden Louisville Slugger behind his shoulder, assumed his stance and pretended he was taking his cuts at Yankee Stadium. He cleared out half the bar with one swing and finished the rest off with a second sweep.
The music stopped and the kids finally started focusing on him, though half seemed too stoned to take too much of an interest. Some of the underdressed ladies started giggling while a couple of shirtless guys stared grimly at Sean, their fists clenched.
Another kid, tall and chunky with wavy hair, stormed into the kitchen.
“What the hell’s going on?” He stopped as his gaze settled on the ruined bar. The kid shouted, “Damn it! You’re gonna pay for this, King.”
“No, I’m not, Albert.”
“My name’s Burt!”
“Okay, Burt, let’s call your dad and find out what he thinks.”
“You can’t come in here and pull this shit all the time.”
“You mean saving your parents’ house from being wrecked by a bunch of rich assholes?”
“Hey, I resent that,” said one girl, who was teetering on four-inch spikes and wearing only a butt-level skintight T-shirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Sean glanced at her. “Really? Which part: rich or asshole? By the way, in that washcloth you’re wearing, I can just about see yours.”
Sean turned back to Albert. “Let me spell it out for you, Burt. Your father gave me the authority to clear this place out any time in my judgment things were getting out of hand.” He held up the bat. “Well, this is my gavel and judgment has been rendered.” He stared at the others. “So all of you can get the hell out before I call the cops.?
?
“All the cops do is come and tell us to turn the music down,” Burt sneered.
“Not if somebody tells them that there’s drug use going on. And underage sex and drinking.” Sean glanced around at the teenagers. “How would a felony arrest look? Think Mommy and Daddy would pull your keys to the Benz and cut the old party allowance?”
That statement cleared half the room. The other half disappeared when Burt tried to jump Sean and caught the handle of the bat in his gut for the trouble. Sean grabbed the kid by his shirt collar and hauled him off the floor.
“I’m gonna be sick,” Burt moaned. “I’m gonna be sick!”
“Just take deep breaths. But don’t ever try that again.”
When Burt had recovered he said, “I’ll get you for this.”
“What you’re going to do is clean up this place.”
“I’m not doing shit!”
Sean grabbed the young man’s arm and gave it a twist. “You clean up this place or we can take a ride down to the police station.” Sean pointed his bat at the dregs of the smashed bar. “I’ll be back in an hour to check on the progress, Albert.”
Only Sean wouldn’t come back in an hour. Forty minutes later, Sean received the call on his cell phone. Michelle was lying unconscious in a hospital in D.C. after having been arrested for felony assault. He nearly smashed down the front door on his way to the car.
CHAPTER
3
HE STARED AT HER LYING in the bed. Sean turned to the doctor, who said, “Don’t worry, it’s not as serious as it looks. She had a concussion but otherwise the pictures of her head came back fine and there’s no internal bleeding. She got a tooth knocked out and suffered two cracked ribs and bruises over much of her body. She’s going to be in some pain when she wakes up, even with the meds.”
Sean focused on the one thing that looked totally out of place: a handcuff on Michelle’s right wrist, with the other cuff attached to the bed’s side rail. And then there was the beefy cop parked outside who’d searched Sean for weapons and told him he had ten minutes with her.
“What the hell happened?” Sean asked.
“Your friend walked into a bar and picked a fight with a guy. A really big guy.”
