The Mafia's Youngest Boss

SHIT WAS GOING to hit the fan.

Detective Kelly James could practically see hot steamy chunks of shit flying from the ceiling. Fan-fucking-tastic, he thought grinding his teeth together. This is exactly what he needed right after getting off Sandra's shit list. He kept his eyes on the sidewalks, watching for any suspicious activity but the majority of the time he observed his partner talking to some pedestrians. It was a hot day for this time of year and although the weather was steadily getting worse the sun was still bright and the frost was gathering against the ground. Hugging his police jacket tightly he thought about lighting a cigarette, then remembered that he quit several months ago and instead wrung his hands together in an attempt to distract himself.

Sergeant Sandra was not going to like this.