“I don’t think that’s supposed to bend that way,” Jack grunted, heaving Trixie towards the car.
“Gee Jack, I’m not sure which you’re talking about, the heel of my shoe or my ankle.” Trixie snarked back, breath whistling though gritted teeth.
“Well I was talking about your ankle, but speaking of the shoes, who wears high heels during a stake out anyway?”
“I could do that but then who would haul your fanny into the car and get you to a hospital?”
“I’ll… break your leg off and use it as a crutch. And you interrupted a date and you know it.”
“Well the target was moving and we haven’t been paid in over a month. Thought you’d rather earn an honest living instead of conning it out of that poor schmuck.”
“So chasing a suspect down a fire escape is an honest living now?”
Jack held open the door and helped her inside. “I think the correct term is falling out of a fire escape.”
“I hate you.”
“Fair enough,” Jack conceded, slamming the door in her face. “At least Dot’s working midnight tonight…”