Chapter Twenty
WHEN I ARRIVED home, I left my bike in the driveway, unlocked the door, and went inside. When I reached the kitchen, a man was waiting for me at the table. He was dressed in a long, black leather overcoat and wore gloves.
“You Raptor?” he asked pointing his nine millimeter at me.
“Yeah, who the f**k are you?”
He put the gun down on the table. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”
“Jesus Christ, how the f**k did you get in here?” I snapped, not too happy that he’d made himself at home and was drinking one of my beers.
The Judge, who had dark hair and light blue eyes, smirked. “Back door. Used the key hidden under the pot with the dead Begonias. Did anyone ever tell you to water your flowers?”
I frowned. “I didn’t hide a spare key there.”
“Then you’d better figure out who did
