“I haven’t threatened anybody.”
Rourke reached for the expandable baton on his belt.
Eli stepped forward.
“Sergeant.”
“Back up.”
“Maybe Captain Vance needs to come out.”
Rourke turned.
“I said back up.”
Eli stopped.
Marcus watched.
The moment told him more about Eli than six weeks of financial analysis had.
The younger officer was afraid.
Not of Marcus.
Of Rourke.
Rourke snapped the baton open.
Then struck the truck door.
The metallic crack traveled across the highway shoulder.
“Twenty-five hundred dollars.”
He hit the door again.
“Right now.”
Marcus looked at the dent forming beneath the mirror.
“Or?”
“Or I tow everything you own.”
Rourke moved closer.
“And if you become a bigger problem, I solve that too.”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Is that what happened to Tomas?”
Rourke’s eyes hardened.
“Get out of the truck.”
Marcus did not move.
Rourke raised the baton.
“Last chance.”
Marcus leaned toward the window.
“Hit that door again and you’re finished wearing that badge.”
Rourke laughed.
It was genuine laughter.
Not nervous.
Not uncertain.
The sound of a man hearing something he considered impossible.
“You think some broke trucker gets to threaten me?”
Marcus said nothing.
Rourke lowered his voice.
“I could put your face against this pavement and tell the entire county you resisted.”
Marcus kept looking at him.
“Who are they going to believe?”
That was the sentence.