Page 13 of Red, White, and BearCat Blue

He narrowed his pretty eyes. “Figured. Mets or Yankees?”

Mickey lost his smile. “Mets? Are you high?”

The man laughed. “Don’t do drugs, Feeb. I guess that makes you a Yankees fan. Too bad, so sad,” he singsonged.

“The entire American League has been crying ever since the Angels won the series, but the Yankees are taking the pennant this year. Just you wait,” Mickey said. “They’re gonna go all the way to the World Series this year.”

“First of all, the Angels are American League, numb nuts. Second of all, New Yorkers are just pissed because a California team has a real shot at the series this year.”

Mickey smirked. “The Yankees have a better track record than the Angels all day long. The Angels haven’t won the series since 2002. At least the Yankees took it in 2009. The odds are on them this year, even here in Vegas.”

“You’re biased because you’re from the Big Apple.” More air quotes.

“How’d you know I was from New York anyway?”

Cam smirked. “You just told me, genius. Besides, I would’ve known that was a New York accent even if you hadn’t told me.”

I snorted, hooking a thumb at him as I glanced at Mickey. “See? Smart arse.”

“Yeah,” Mickey agreed with a frown. “Okay, funny guy. Let’s see what you got in that coat.” He muscled him until he was backed up against the side of the car.

“What you gonna do with it?” he asked, pulling the sides of his coat tightly around his slender frame.

“What are we gonna do with it? We’re gonna see ‘ow much loot ya nicked and then we’re gonna decide if we’re gonna take ya to the police or let ya go.”

“You don’t have any right to do that. You haven’t even read me my rights.”

I chuckled. “This guy.”

Mickey laughed. “Show us what you have in those big pockets and don’t hold back.” He waved a hand up and down over Cam’s coat.

The guy rolled his eyes again, sighing loudly. “Fine.” He opened his coat and began pulling things out, placing them on the bonnet of my car. There were three watches, seven pairs of sunglasses, a pile of coins, a tiny heart-shaped gold locket, and a big handful of condoms. When he pulled out a long window wedge, I took it from his hands before he could dent my bonnet with it.

I shoved it into an inner pocket of my jacket and picked up a condom, showing it to him. “Ya found all these in those cars?”

He grinned. “Yeah. The gold foil ones in extra-large are the only ones that’ll actually fit, but you know what they say…safety first!”

I laughed, really liking the guy more than I should.

“What are you planning to do with all this loot?” Mickey asked.

“Seriously? I’m gonna sell it. No one wanted it. If they did, they wouldn’t leave it behind in their cars before they were repossessed or at the very least, picked up their possessions from the tow yard afterward.” The little shit actually sounded mad. “Besides, I gotta help my mom.”

I laughed. “Bullshit.”

He shot me an angry glare. “It’s not bullshit, asswipe. I have to help my mom.”

“’Ow’re ya gonna do that?” I asked.

“What do you think, Ringo?”

I couldn’t help but smirk. The guy was growing on me.

“Answer my partner,” Mickey said. “What are you gonna do with it?”

He glared at Mickey, shrugging. “Gonna…sell…it,” he said slowly, like Mickey was a right ning-nong.

“Oh, really?” I asked. I hated being lied to. The kid was likeable and cute in a twink kinda way…if you liked that kind of thing. “What if I told ya, I don’t believe ya?”