The Fake Officer Pressed His Baton Against My Chest, Until He Realized Who Blocked The Garage Doors

The steel tip of the collapsible baton dug hard against my collarbone, pinning me against the cold red metal of my Snap-On tool chest.

"You’re going to sign the immediate closure notice, Mr. Thorne," the man said, his breath smelling of stale peppermint. "Or I lock you up for municipal endangerment, right here, right now. It's your choice to make this ugly."