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I slowly and cautiously walked to the left side of the Jaguar. Jenny also got out and walked to the trunk on the passenger side of the car. From that position, she could observe my interaction with the driver without becoming a target.

A pair of alligator-skin boots exited the driver’s door followed by their owner, which turned out to be a slender Hispanic man. He wore a peach-colored Latino-style silk shirt that was well-coordinated with his peach-colored pants. His left wrist flashed from the gold Rolex watch encasing it.

He kept his left side pointed in my direction as he stepped away from his door. When he looked at me, the corners of his lips curved upward, yet his eyes didn’t match his attempt at a smile.

As soon as he turned toward me squarely, his right side fell within my line of vision. I immediately spotted a bulge under his shirt.

I yelled, “Gun!”

I lunged toward him, grabbed him, and spun him around. He offered no resistance as I pushed him away from the door and onto the front quarter panel on the driver’s side. I pulled up his shirt and removed a 9-mm semi-automatic GLOCK pistol out of his belt.

About that same time, a woman who I assumed to be his wife jumped out of the passenger’s side of the car. With lips pressed together, eyes narrowed, and fists clenched, she rushed at me. Since her eyes were focused on me, I knew I was the object of her wrath. Evidently, she was going to defend her man.

Jenny yelled, “Stop where you are! Ma’am, place your hands on your head!”

This command had zero impact on this charging woman who looked like a fancy, frilly dressed bulldog on steroids. Jenny ran after her in an effort to stop her.

The woman turned on Jenny, and they began to physically fight. Both eventually landed on the ground and rolled around in the dirt.

When the man saw the brawl between his wife and Jenny, he became combative with me. I managed to call for backup since I had to deal with an extra gun while trying to handcuff him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a very large cat jump out of the passenger side of the car. It must have been well over the size of any domestic cat I had ever seen.

I couldn’t do anything about it now. I needed to spend all of my energy on my wiry guy.

Finally, I managed to pin him against the car with his arms behind him while tucking his firearm into the back of my belt. About the time I felt the final click of the second cuff on my prisoner’s hand, Jenny subdued the bulldog of a woman. She then “cuffed and stuffed” her into my car. Fortunately, my trainee was a good street fighter.