The day broke like any other on the cracked sidewalks of Van Nuys, with Jonny M. up before the sun, pan-searing a pound of Japanese A5 Wagyu for Boris’ breakfast like it was a ritual carved into stone. The aroma drifted through their shabby apartment like a promise life rarely kept. Boris sat at the table in his tailored dog-sized robe, paws folded patiently, looking like a pug monk awaiting enlightenment—if enlightenment came medium-rare. Jonny fetched the mail while the beef rested, thinking only about coffee and the rock-star sparkle of his girlfriend Linda. But stuffed between the bills and ads was a note that froze his blood. A threat, aimed straight at Linda… and at Pussy, Boris’ tomcat dollface. Someone out there wanted vengeance, and they were done playing games.
By the time the Wagyu hit Boris’ bowl, the two detectives were hunched over the letter like archeologists brushing dirt off a curse. The note was unsigned, but the streets whispered names whether they wanted to or not. Johnny Rocco, big boss of the Valley mob, who still held a grudge after Jonny and Boris shut down his numbers racket one summer so hot the sidewalks sweated. Big Tim, Rocco’s muscleman, whose fists were smarter than his brain by a narrow margin. Bro Joe, Jonny’s older and uglier brother whose success as a junior ranger superstar couldn’t dim his jealousy of Jonny’s spotlight that made Cain look like a pacifist. Even “Labin”—the notorious lesbian duo given the moniker by the tabloids—still steamed after Jonny politely turned down their invitation to an “experimental three-way” that would’ve made a sailor blush.
The list of enemies stretched longer than a Van Nuys bar tab on payday, but one thing was clear: whoever wrote that note was aiming for the heart, and they had no qualms pulling the trigger. Jonny folded the paper with the kind of care you give a live grenade. Boris dabbed his jowls with a napkin, eyes sharp, breakfast forgotten. Love was their weak spot, sure—but it was also the reason they fought harder than any hired gun or jealous brother ever could. If someone wanted a war, they’d get one. And Jonny M. and Boris, detective legends and lovers of the dames who’d stolen their hearts, were already lacing up their boots for battle.