Marissa Hamm walked past her partner’s desk in the nearly deserted squad room, and as she passed, crossed a hand across the front of her body and casually slapped Mike Bean on the back of his head. The blow came unexpectedly. Mike had been deep into reading a set of stolen vehicle reports. The blow caught him by surprise, making him automatically hunch his shoulders up by his ears before straightening up and angrily half turning in his chair.
“Dammit, woman! I swear to God if you don’t stop doing that to me, I’m gonna hit you so hard your grandkid’s kids are going to have a hair lip!”
“In your dreams, Poncho. Now get up and tag along. Yankovich wants to see us.”
Mike’s anger slipped away as he glanced across the room and saw the form of the lieutenant standing in the doorway of his glas
