When Frank Yates’s eyes finally adjusted to the dim light of the underground garage, his expression darkened instantly.
The sleek Mercedes S-Class, which Cloud Lee had lent him just yesterday, was a wreck.
The windshield was shattered into a spiderweb of cracks. The side mirrors had been smashed off, dangling by their wires. And most insulting of all, someone had used white spray paint to scrawl two giant letters across the hood and doors: Stupid Cunt.
It was a brand new car.
Frank’s heart ached at the sight. He didn't need to be a detective to know who was responsible. It had to be the same bastards from the soccer field this morning.
Suddenly, blinding beams of light cut through the gloom.
From the opposite row of parking spaces, three cars simultaneously flashed their high beams,
