Page 3 of Red, White, and BearCat Blue

“Yes…and I have a favor.” When I opened my mouth to protest, he held up both hands to stop me. “Please, let me finish, Clifford.”

I nodded. “Sorry, boss.”

“We have agents in Vegas who will be arresting him, provided they can find him, but I wanted to make you aware of the situation. His name is Josiah Sterling.”

I snickered. “What kind of a gobshite is called Josiah Sterling?”

Candy smiled and then patted my shoulder again. “Right? Anyway, he’s probably aware that his operation in LA has been dismantled which means he’s no doubt long gone. But just in case.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sticky note, thrusting it into my hand. “This is the phone number for the FBI’s SAC in Vegas. If you run into this Sterling person, call him immediately. The Vegas field office will have agents at the auction, but if you happen to spot him before they do, call the SAC and they’ll scoop him up.”

“Okay, boss, but I won’t know what the bloke looks like.”

“Neither do our agents. No one has ever laid eyes on this Sterling character, but I know you very well, Mars. You have a sixth sense about bad guys. You’ll know if someone is up to no good. Just keep your eyes peeled. If anyone looks suspicious, call the SAC and his agents will take him in for questioning.” He smiled again. “And try to have a good time.”

“Will do, boss. Maybe I’ll find something and I won’t ‘ave to wait for the Bureau to cut me a check for this damage.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You must be made of money, Clifford.”

I smirked. “It’s not that, boss. I ‘ave a good body man, but you and I both know the Bureau will take their sweet time about paying out. I’ll ‘ave Reggie do up an estimate for me either way.”

“Whatever you decide to do, Clifford. Let me know. By the way, thanks for getting your report in on a timely basis.”

“Course, boss. I take it Lincoln’s team is wrapping up the rest of the case?”

He nodded. “As we speak. It’s basically all paperwork for now, well…except for this one loose end.”

“Sterling. Got it boss. You know…about the car and all.”

“You bet.” He turned on his heel and started walking away. “Have a nice weekend, Mars,” he said over his shoulder.

“Will do, Candy. You, too.”

I turned back to the deep grooves on the sleek, black car, pissed off with what I saw. I reached out and touched the bare metal shining through the scratched paint. I’d just had the car washed yesterday morning, so seeing my baby looking so wounded, pained me to no end. I honestly hoped I wouldn’t run into this Sterling bastard. I just wanted to enjoy my time off.

Three and a half hours later, I wriggled in the bucket seat, flexing my thighs. Long drives like this one usually relaxed me, and I didn’t know why I wasn’t feeling that this morning. Highway 15 was the shortest route to Vegas from my apartment in Hollywood. Granted, it was boring as hell, always filled with travelers going to and from Sin City, and most of it went through what felt like a never-ending desert. Once Mickey and I were through Barstow, though, it was a straight shot of open road. I’d done this drive several times since Candy had moved the team to L.A. and could usually make it in just under four hours unless I hit traffic.

“I’m still not sure what the appeal is, Mars,” Mickey said.

I checked my speedo and then over at Mickey. “What’re ya on about?”

“I get it. You’re a driver, but is it really necessary to buy a new car every month or so?”

I laughed. “First of all, it’s not every month or so, mate. I just like to look and if I see a bargain I can’t resist, I trade up.”

In my peripheral vision, I saw him nod. “Well, I guess that means pretty soon, you’ll own a Lamborghini.”

I chuckled. “Pfft. I ’ate them.” When he said nothing, I glanced over. His jaw hung open as he gaped at me.

“Why?”

“’Ell if I know. If we were still in Texas, then maybe, but L.A.’s too fucking crowded. A Lamborghini is meant to be driven at well over a ‘undred miles an ‘our and in case you ‘aven’t noticed, we live in a crowded metro, Mickey. ’Oo the ‘ell wants their entire paycheck to pay tickets?” I poked a thumb at the center of my chest. “Not this bloke.”

He chuckled. “No one says you have to drive that fast. You just like it.”

I nodded. “Course, I do. And what would ya know about it, subway boy?”

He laughed. “Hey, subways are the way you get around Brooklyn. They suited me just fine.”

“They smell like yak piss, Mickey.”