Page 67 of Red, White, and BearCat Blue

“’E’s right, Noah,” I said. “Though Ferrari marks the model type on the outside of their vehicles, the only way to know if it’s a limited edition, is to look under the bonnet—the ‘ood.” I smiled at Cam. “Good job.”

“Okay. I can work with that,” Noah said. His fingers flew over the keyboard and after several minutes, he announced, “I have a limited edition 812 GTS V-12 Grand Tourer registered in the city of Las Vegas to a company called Sin City Vehicles.”

Cam shook his head. “That’s not it. I…ah…I stole that car for him.” He looked at me sheepishly. “He told me he sold it. That was three months ago.”

“Which probably means it’s no longer in Vegas and ‘as ended up somewhere south of the border, probably after being packed with ‘eroin.” I smirked at him, squeezing his thigh before looking at Noah. “Are there any others, in Vegas, Noah?”

Noah nodded and started typing again. After another minute, he said, “Ha! I’ve got it.” He glanced back down at the screen, reading whatever he was seeing. “There’s a 2025 812 GTS V-12 Grand Tourer owned by Sterling Limited. It was purchased in Bullhead City, Arizona, but there’s a current registration in Las Vegas, Nevada.” He looked up. “That has to be it, right?”

“It sounds like it could be,” Cam replied. “Does it tell you the color?”

“Rosso Corsa?”

Cam nodded. “That’s it! It has to be. There are only a few red Ferrari’s in Vegas, and Josiah owns the only 812 GTS that I know of after doing whatever he did with the one I stole.”

Noah grinned. “Good. Let me see what I can find.” He glanced over at Snow. “It’s gonna take me more than a few minutes to hack the onboard computer, Lincoln. It’d go faster if Judy Mendez can help me.”

“That’s a good idea, Noah. Get her involved,” Snow said. He turned back to the room. “I think we can leave it there, people.” He looked pointedly at me. “Why don’t you take Mr. Demarco back to the hotel, Clifford. We’ll call you back if we need anything.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” I said to Cam.

We started to stand when Lincoln said, “Mr. Demarco, we couldn’t have done any of this without your help. Thank you so much.”

“Which reminds me, I have a document for Mr. Demarco to sign before you leave the office, Clifford,” Candy said.

“Let’s go back to my boss’ office.”

Cam nodded and we followed the others out of the room. Several of the guys on my team stopped to shake Cam’s hand and thank him. By the time we finally left the office after signing a paid informant contract guaranteeing Cam full immunity for past crimes in exchange for his help in bringing down Josiah Sterling, we were both smiling ear to ear.

Chapter Nineteen

CAM

I felt like I was walking on clouds by the time I left the office with Mars. According to the paperwork Captain Sorensen had me sign, I was completely off the hook for all my past deeds including auto theft. To top it all off, my mother was safe and hopefully, with the information I’d provided, the FBI would be able to take Josiah down once and for all. The only thing holding them back might be if their computer techie couldn’t hack into the Ferrari’s onboard computer but judging by how confident everyone had been in Special Agent Burgess, it looked good. I felt like a million bucks as I climbed into Mars’ borrowed Camaro.

I reached over and took his hand as soon as he was in the car, and when he looked over at me, I smiled. “Thank you, Mars. I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.”

He grinned at me, then leaned forward and softly kissed my lips. When he pulled away, a shiver ran through me. The man was so potent, he always had that effect on me.

“Ya should feel worlds better now, luv. It isn’t every day you get a new lease on life. Now you just have to look forward to your future.”

I gnawed on my lower lip, thinking about his statement as butterflies filled my insides. Mars started the car, but I waited until we’d pulled out into the sunlight to voice my concern. “That could be a problem, Mars.” He glanced over at me as he drove through the parking lot, stopping at the end of the driveway to wait for traffic.

“Why’s that, Cam?”

I let go of his hand and ran lines down my jeans with my thumbnail as I looked away. “I’m not good at anything, Mars.”

“What? Course, ya are.”

“No, really. I don’t have any skills. I barely graduated high school and the only thing I ever did well was—” I dragged my gaze back to the window where I watched the traffic as he pulled out onto Wilshire Boulevard, heading east.

“What?”

I harrumphed. “Steal things. I’m twenty-six years old and it’s the only thing I was ever good at…stealing things.”

He was quiet a few seconds before he shook his head. “That’s not true.”

“What do you mean?”