Oh shit.

She felt the fat man tense up. One hand was already free from the cuffs, and she had a tight grip on it.

“Hungry.” The fat man reached for the burger, pulling Lola along with ease.

“What the hell are you doing?” the desk clerk said through a mouthful of food. He tried to scoot out of the way of the clutching hands, but he wasn’t quick enough.

The fat man grabbed the officer by the collar and pulled him over the desk. The officer still clutched his sandwich, but it was quickly consumed by the obese attacker.

“Get off me!” The chewed up burger muffled his pleading.

“Let him go,” Lola said, drawing her gun and aiming it at the jiggling mound of fat. Just as she expected, the fat man was oblivious to anything else but the food.

“Mmmm…”

The fat man swallowed and moaned. He had the officer pinned to the ground with the weight of his body and stretched his neck toward the man’s face. The other officers in the station scrambled toward the ruckus, shouting orders and commands.

Lola knew she’d never hear the end of this. She wondered if she’d have a job after the events of the day. “Get off him, now!”

The fat man pressed his face against the officer’s, and looked to be…kissing him. His moaning was louder than the officer’s chokes and cries.

“Let him go, goddamnit.” Lola’s fingers ached from her hard grip on the gun.

The man looked up at her, chewing on the mushed-up burger that he’d extracted from the officer’s mouth. Along with the man’s raggedly torn lips. He got to his feet and swallowed the ball of meat, flesh, and bread, his tongue slithering and bathing in the food.

“My face!” the officer screamed from the floor, kicking his legs. He gurgled on his blood, choked on it.

The fat man licked his lips and his throat rattled. “Mmmm.”

He lunged.

Lola fired.

PAID

When Juan finished picking up and cleaning the kitchen, he headed out the double doors and into the dining area. Mr. Chan’s voice exploded from the office by the entrance. Sharp, harsh Chinese sliced through the air. Juan wished he could just escape without saying another word to the little man, but he didn’t want to risk pissing him off. He fired every employee there except Juan, so he knew the Chinaman had a hair-trigger temper.

As he approached the office, the words got louder, more violent. They tunneled into Juan’s ears and cut at his brain. His mustache twitched as he poked his head into the office.

Mr. Chan had the phone pressed to the side of his face so hard, his cheek was pink and his knuckles were white. His eyes were perfect straight lines on his face, his eyebrows jumping and bending as he spoke. He paced the office, but when he saw Juan looking in, he sat down with his back to him and spoke softer, as if Juan had a clue of what he could be talking about.