Kaitlyn caught his eye. He gave her a small lift of his eyebrow.
“So what is your name?”
“Lee Smith, billionaire, at your service,” he said.
“So who is Randolph Quinn?”
“He’s the true soul of Lee Smith, like the statue hidden inside the stone waiting for the hand of the sculptor.”
“You’re just so full of s**t,” she said.
“Sarge, did you hear that? This is police brutality. I’m a victim of crime remember.”
“We don’t know who you are, you don’t know who owns that car, you’ve got a Mickey Mouse credit card, and somehow you’re involved with a firearms incident. You might be with us for a while. You’re entitled to a lawyer and to notify someone that you’re here. We’ll call a police surgeon to look at that cut. Do you have any requests?”
“A nice strong cup of tea with plenty of sugar.”
