Page 10 of Red, White, and BearCat Blue

“Come on, Mars, you’re not really serious about it, so let’s look at another car.”

“But I like this one.”

“You’re not gonna buy it, so forget about it.”

I grinned to myself, unable to stop the smile when he said “forget about it” in that totally New York way. The man moved again, and I felt him straighten. Once again, he stood outside the car. “Ya just like every New Yorker I ever met, ya know? None of ya ‘ave the patience of a flea, Milky, That’s ya problem, mate, always in a ‘urry.”

Mars? Milky? Who were these guys? Candy bars?

MARS

I grabbed Mickey’s bicep and pulled him away from the vehicle, walking away fifteen feet before I turned my back on the car.

He frowned at me. “What’re you doing, Mars?”

I lifted my finger and put it over my lips to shush him and lowered my voice to a whisper. “There’s someone in the car, Mickey.”

He looked over my shoulder, past me, still frowning before looking back at me—his eyes filled with questions. “What the hell did you see?”

“There’s someone lying on the floor of the backseat. ‘E’s covered by the window shade.”

Mickey frowned deeper. “Window shade?”

I threw my arms wide. “That thing ya put in your front window on the dash so the sun won’t ‘urt the leather. It ‘elps keep the car cool when it’s blinking ‘ot.”

Mickey nodded as he finally worked out what I was on about. “Someone’s hiding there?” I nodded. “Do you think he slept there or what?”

I shrugged. “I ‘ave no idea but I’m telling ya, someone’s there.”

Mickey looked past me again. “Okay, so we gotta go drag them out, right?” He looked around. “Or do we call security around here?”

I followed his lead, glancing around for a guy in a uniform. “I don’t see anyone. I think we should do it ourselves, yeah?”

Mickey nodded. “Okay, let’s go see what the hell is going on.” He patted his pocket. “Fuck, I don’t even have a weapon, anyway. I left it back in the hotel room.”

I frowned at him. What did he think? We were going to shoot someone who’d been hiding? “I don’t ‘ave mine either, but I ‘ave this.” I reached into my pocket and dug out my creds, flipping them open to show Mickey.

He nodded, cracking a smile. “Got mine too. Let’s go scare someone.”

I chuckled. We turned around and started walking back to the car. At the door, I gave Mickey one last look and yanked it open. I whipped the sunshade off and was shocked as I recognized the same guy we’d run into twice now. He was still wearing the dopey leather coat. “Okay, get up!” I flashed my creds.

He blinked several times as he focused on my ID. “It’s you!” he shouted. “What the hell?” He peered at my creds again, narrowing his eyes as he looked up at me. “FBI? What the hell does the FBI want with me?”

“I said get outta the vehicle.”

He just lay there looking up at me. “Actually, you didn’t say get out of the vehicle. You said, ‘get up.’”

I reached down and grabbed the guy by his leather jacket. “Smart arse. Get the ‘ell up.”

He threw up both arms. “Fine. I’m getting up, James Bond. Hands off the leather, buddy.”

Inexplicably, I laughed, hanging onto his bicep and hauling his arse out of the car. He straightened to his full height as soon as he set his feet on solid ground. I took a good look at him as he brushed my hand off his sleeve. “What are ya doing sleeping in the back of the car and ‘ow in the ‘ell did ya even get in ‘ere?”

He looked me up and down and for some reason, his close once over made my back straighten just a little more. He only stood about five-eight, several inches shorter than me, and he couldn’t weigh much more than nine stone—130 pounds—soaking wet. But there was something about his defiant attitude that grabbed me.

I looked him over. He was wearing jeans and an Aerosmith T-shirt, making him appear younger than he probably was. Whoever he was, he had good taste in music, anyway. The cocky smirk on his face should have made me want to slap it right off him. Instead, I had the overwhelming urge to grab him by the back of his neck and drag him up against my body so I could kiss him. I shook off the dopey thoughts as I noticed how oddly his leather jacket fitted him from the last two times I’d seen him. I reached out and grabbed both sides of it, yanking it open. Inside, the pockets were stuffed. I smiled and lifted my gaze to his for a second before glancing over at Mickey.

“Looks like ‘e’s nothing but a common dodger.”