They were back in the same DOPS office they’d been using since the day he’d been thrown in a van and almost eaten by a hellhound. Nelson stood against the wall across from Coop smirking. Bayliss was over there, too, but keeping a cool distance from Nelson. Her sympathy for her partner’s medical condition appeared to Coop to border on the microscopic. At least that was nice, he thought. Giselle sat next to him on his side of the desk, which he didn’t mind either. Coop was the only one drinking. He had vivid memories of the coffee in Surf City. Prison coffee was like someone had shouted the word coffee into a bag of potting soil and strained the boiled sludge through a dirty T-shirt. If he was heading back to jail, Coop thought, he was going to float in on a wave of government coffee.

“How was your last night as a free man, dipshit?” said Nelson. “Salzman’s on his way down right now with the paperwork to put you away again.”

Coop leaned his elbows on the table. “I can’t say that going to prison for punching you sounds like fun, but if I have to go back, at least I’m going in for doing something I enjoyed.”

Bayliss looked even more uncomfortable than usual when she turned to Nelson and said, “You know, you don’t have to press charges.”

“Of course I do. This mad dog is a menace. The next thing you know he’ll be biting mailmen,” said Nelson.

Bayliss shook her head. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Excuse me? Who’s the injured party here?”

“You’ve done nothing but ride him—and Giselle—since he got here. Frankly, with your attitude, I’m surprised no one’s taken a poke at you before.”

“Thanks for standing up for me, partner. I won’t forget it,” said Nelson.

“Let it go, Bayliss,” said Coop. “I’m happy I punched him. In the same circumstances, I’d do it again. Hell, I’d like to punch him now.”

“Me, too,” said Giselle.

Nelson pointed at her. “You want trouble, too, sister? I have filing cabinets full of forms. I can write reports on all of you.”

“So can I,” said Bayliss. She looked at the floor for a minute before turning to Nelson. “When I think of all the times I kept my mouth shut when you showed up for work hammered . . .”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to take this jailbird’s side?”

“No, mine. If you file charges, so do I.”

Nelson smiled. “Well, it’s too late. The papers are all in. No matter what Goody Two-Shoes plan you have, Machine Gun Kelly here is going bye-bye.”