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“Wasn’t aware sunning yourself on a fuckin’ car was his thematic schtick.”
“Learn something new every day.” I take the file from Nicolo and start flipping through it.
For a last-minute, quick pull-together piece, it’s fucking thorough. On Karlee June MacNamara. Not so much Fallon.
“Wanna tell me why we’re here? Apart from the obvious?”
I lift my gaze from the page, followed by my sunglasses, to give Nicolo the once-over. “There’s an obvious?”
“The girl? The visit?”
“I’ll explain on the trip to the college.”
Diego sits up and nods at the file. “You think any of that’s tied in with the shit we’re looking into?”
“That shit isn’t going away.”
“I only ask because there’s a lot of gang shit in it with your buddy. And one of those gangs is the 86s.”
“He has a gang tattoo, I don’t know which one, but it’s not them.”
“There are lots of gangs,” Nicolo says. “He just might have done business with the 86s.”
It’s that fucking bullshit heaviness in the gut that tells me there’s a lot going on, more than what we might know, but first . . .
“Diego, see what your contacts know about a group named Genesis.”
“You got it.” Diego peels himself from my car. “I’ll take this beauty back.” He holds his hand out for the keys, and I toss them to him.
“Checked in with everyone who needed it.” I nod back at the prison.
Technically that isn’t our job to visit with those who’ve taken a hit, those who are on a high viz payroll. Sometimes, it more than pays for others inside to know there’s a mouthpiece to De Luca . . . or through De Luca. And it gave me a cover of sorts for seeing Fallon, since I don’t know who the fuck is watching.
“Anything?” Diego asks, eyes slightly narrowed as he unlocks the door to my car, setting up his phone so we can talk more.
“For us? Not sure yet.”
“Well,” says Nicolo, “let’s get this party fucking started.
A college campus is the last place a man of my height and age should be. I might fit the profile from the back of a quarterback, but I’m no fucking kid. And I don’t look like a fucking professor, either.
What did Fallon say—when he was telling me things, that was and not skirting loads of text I know I’d be exceedingly interested in—she did?
Oh yeah, the girl’s into computers, hacking and software design. A geeky coder who’ll probably make a fortune in SiliconValley. One with a penchant for art as it’s one of her extra courses she takes.
I read the file in the car here, Nicolo drove me, Diego got me the info, and I know both of them are wanting to know why I needed a pickup and my car taken back from the fucking prison.
Time enough to tell them. Once I know more.
On paper, she’s more troublemaker than someone full of attitude, but while she got into trouble on numerous occasions her first year, she’s on an accelerated course and doing her Masters at twenty-two.
Fallon and I finished our degrees while we worked and built a business. And we were two years into that at that age. But not on any accelerated degree.
I pull out my phone and navigate to the computer labs. Once I hit the building and the cooler air of the hall, there aren’t many students about, but the raised voices drew my feet and attention. A guy and a girl with a voice that holds a wisp of smoke.
It’s the kind of voice a man wants saying dirty, nasty things with into his ear. It would sound good begging, too. Moaning?—
Oh fuck, I need to get it together. It’s been a couple of weeks, and my libido clearly isn’t happy.
