“No, I guess not. But—dammit, after everything I went through to get her in the car?” He groans. “You have no f*****g idea. She fought the entire way. I thought I was going to have to call a psych unit halfway through the drive.”
That catches my attention. “What happened?”
“Your girl is nuts. She was clawing at the windows, screaming like a damn banshee. I thought she was going to break through the partition at one point.”
I frown. “How is she now?”
“Quiet, at least. I don’t hear her screaming.” He sighs. “You can’t make arresting her a regular thing. I don’t think I can handle it. I’ve arrested dudes on PCP before and they had nothing on your girl.”
“Sure, sure,” he says quickly. “Your nanny. Whatever.”
I don’t exactly love that descriptor, either. She’s more to me than that, isn’t
