Page 11 of Red, White, and BearCat Blue

“Hey!” the guy said, grabbing his jacket out of my hands and closing it up quickly as he looked around.

I frowned at him. “Did I mention we’re the FBI, mate?”

He smirked again in that totally annoying way he had, then swept out a hand. “No one owns these cars…mate…so if you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving.” He turned on a heel and started walking away when I went after him, grabbing him by the bicep.

He tried to pull out of my hold just as I saw a security guard coming our way. “Is there a problem here?” the man asked, looking Mickey and me up and down before narrowing his eyes at the man beside me. “You look familiar. I saw you sniffing around this pavilion late last night.”

The man snorted. “Oh, pavilion is it? Looks like a ratty old tent to me.” He tried to pull out of my grip, but I curled my fingers into the leather on his bicep and held on tight.

The guy pulled a walkie-talkie off his belt, holding it up. “Oh, a wise guy, huh? We’ve been getting a lot of complaints about a thief on the grounds along with a couple of police alerts. Well, let’s just see what the boss thinks about that.”

I know I should have turned him over to the guard right then, but something about how defiant he seemed kind of tickled me. I held up my creds and smiled at him. “We’ve already got the situation in ‘and. ‘E’s not going to give ya any trouble, that I can promise ya, mate.”

The man’s eyes went comically wide. “That’s—” He looked at Mickey and then back at me. “You’re really the FBI?” He didn’t wait for me to reply before darting a glance around the tent. Several people had stopped to have a good old gawk, see what was going on, and I had no doubt we were attracting more attention than I’d counted on. Several moved closer to listen in. A few were pulling out cell phones to record us.

Mickey stepped forward. “Come closer,” he whispered sotto voce. When the guard complied, lowering his walkie-talkie, Mickey cleared his throat. “This guy’s an informant. We just want to get him out of the pavilion before they come looking for him.”

The man sputtered, wide eyes on full display. He sent the thief a sidelong glance before looking him up and down. When I flicked a look at the man who stood somewhat passively beside me, his gaze was darting around the tent as well.

“They?” the guard asked.

“What?” Mickey replied.

The guard looked around again. “You said before that you were afraid they would come looking for him. Who’s looking for him?”

I cleared my throat. “Ya know…the mob,” I whispered. I really had no idea why I was bothering with a common thief, but something about the way he’d been trapped in the bathroom by that big biker bear last night, made me have a little more compassion for him than I should’ve.

“Oh, shit!” the man said, stepping back so fast, he almost tripped over himself.

The man in my hold turned to look up at me. He was wearing the most adorable smile and for the first time, I noticed how nice his light eyes were. Though I couldn’t be absolutely sure in the dimness of the tent, I guessed they were some sort of hazel, even though I’d thought they’d been blue yesterday. He turned back to the guard who was hooking his walkie-talkie back on his belt. “Well, gotta go before they get here,” he told the guard.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” the guard sputtered.

The three of us turned and as the man tried to pull out of my hold once again, I simply hung on dragging him along with me. I wanted an explanation from not only this jammy wee dodger, but from my pal as well. I had no idea why Mickey had made up the story about him being an informant but couldn’t help smiling inwardly. Maybe he was curious just like I was. For some reason I couldn’t put my finger on, finding this man stealing from cars, brought out all the protective instincts in me.

As a young lad in Liverpool, I’d often thought about stealing cars once I learned how easy it was to bypass locks and take them on joyrides. I wanted to know if he really was trouble or if he had a legitimate need for this. I was also anxious to see what he’d hidden in those stuffed pockets. I had to admit, I’d often found things in cars I bought which were left behind by their former owners, but I couldn’t imagine trying to make a living at it.

When we stepped outside into the morning sunlight, I realized the auction was going to be well-attended when I saw tons of people already flooding into the large pavilion. Unfortunately for me, I already knew I wouldn’t be buying a car this weekend. When I tried to conjure up disappointment, I found it strangely absent. As soon as we were outside, the man yanked on my arm, finally managing to dislodge my hand.

“That’s enough!” he shouted. “You’re gonna rip it.”

I didn’t understand what the hell he was talking about until I saw him reach for his sleeve to turn it around and examine the place I’d had a hold of him. He looked up at me, frowning deeply.

“I didn’t rip ya damn coat.”

“No, but you’re lucky because my mom gave me this and if you had, I’d have to fuck you up.”

I laughed, tucking my creds back into my pocket. Seeing as how I weighed a good six and a half stone more than he did, the very idea of him trying such a stupid thing was ludicrous. I couldn’t help but admire his defiance, though. “Did ya forget we’re FBI?”

He straightened, seeming to lose some of his bravado. “No! I just didn’t know the Feebs went around trying to molest innocent strangers.”

“Molest?” Mickey said, his voice rising.

The man turned to look at him. “That’s what I said.” He looked Mickey up and down before taking a step back. “I can’t imagine any other reason for two big guys to pick on a guy my size.” He had the audacity to shake his finger in my face…making me want to bite it. “Well, I can tell you this…if you have something like that in mind, you can just forget it! I’m not a hustler.”

“We never said ya were, ya little shite,” I replied. “The FBI doesn’t molest people and we sure as ‘ell wouldn’t touch a teenager if we did.” Twice. I’d been called a molester twice in less than twenty-four hours.

He snorted, turning to glare at me. “I’m twenty-six, dude!”