“Hey, Chipper,” one of the men greeted him. “How’d the joke go?”
“Uh… n-not well.”
A chef looked around and spotted me and Quinn. He curled his lip.
“You have to leave,” he said to me. “Guests aren’t permitted here.”
I ignored that. “Are you the one who sent this poor excuse for breakfast to my suite?”
“And if I am?”
Snickers filled the kitchen until I swung my cane and brought it into contact with the stainless steel countertop. The explosive sound shocked them, and silence filled the kitchen. I glared at them. Part of the intricate carving along the ebony sides of the cane had cracked and broken off.
“H-he’s got a gun!” the kid stuttered.
The chef ignored him. “Daniels assured me you’ve played these kinds of pranks on each other all the time.”
“Do I look amused?”
Quinn took out his phone and dialed. I raised an eyebrow.