Red, White, and BearCat Blue (FBI Files Spec. Ops. Tac Team #4)

Prologue

MARS

“’E’s running!”

I charged to the window just as a car crashed backward through the garage door and onto the street, splintering the ancient thing into a million pieces. The driver threw it into gear and the vehicle whipsawed before he gunned the engine and disappeared out of sight.

“I’ve got ‘im!” I shouted, bolting out of the bedroom and taking the stairs three at a time, barely stopping as I hit the ground level and smashed through the front door.

Alain had already made it to my Camaro as I dragged the key fob from my jeans.

He dove into the passenger seat and I started the car with the push of a button.

It roared to life and five seconds later, we were flying down the winding street after him.

“For God’s sake, Mars!” Alain shouted, hanging onto the grab bar as I took a sharp left.

The Camaro fishtailed for a split second before righting itself as I stepped on the gas again, thanking my lucky stars that at this time of night, the narrow streets here in the Hollywood Hills should be free of vehicles.

I made another turn, and the car kicked up a line of sparks all along Alain’s door as I sideswiped a vehicle some muppet had parked too far from the curb.

“Sorry, Almond!”

“Bloody hell, Mars, don’t kill us!” he shouted. “Catching up to him isn’t worth losing our lives over.”

“Where the ‘ell was ‘e hiding?”

“I have no idea. There must have been a basement we missed, but I didn’t see any doors,” Alain said. “So bloody annoying.”

I nodded. Every case was different. Snow’s team had already arrested a group of drug smugglers exporting tons of heroin through the Port of L.A. The raid on this final hideout just to make sure the FBI had rounded them all up was supposed to go easy…which of course, these things never seemed to.

The pulsing lights of the black and whites following us lit up the interior of the car. I made another turn, then another. “’Ate these bloody roads!” I yelled as I took the next turn seconds behind the suspect and planted boot.

“I must say, this car has power; you weren’t kidding,” Alain said as he held on for dear life as I made yet another turn.

I smiled to myself.

“Bet you’ll never doubt my auction buys again,” I said, gripping the steering wheel harder as the suspect’s brake lights blinked at the bottom of the hill.

He bounced on the asphalt, kicking up sparks into the air as he misjudged his own speed, and his undercarriage took the worst of it.

I cringed, then stepped on the brake, slowing our ride just enough so the Camaro wasn’t a victim of the same fate.

“Christ!” Alain exclaimed as the suspect’s car fishtailed, turning into an alley as he hit the gas.

The steep walls of ancient brick structures on either side of us blurred as I barreled down the alley after him, deftly avoiding trash cans and bicycles.

At the end of the it, he made a left, shooting out onto Barham Boulevard as I followed, stepping on the gas.

Traffic was heavier here but the car ahead of us weaved expertly in and out of lanes.

I did the same, as other drivers laid on their horns, thankful that the low profile of his white car made him easy to see.

We crossed over a bridge for the 101 Freeway, and I kept up with him as my coms came to life.

“Mars! Position,” Candy barked in my ear.

“We’re right behind him, boss,” Almond replied for me. “Remind me to enter Mars into the races at the Cheltenham Festival at the first available opportunity. He’d win the sodding Gold Cup hands down!”

I couldn’t help snickering as the bridge ended and the white sedan turned onto a side road, instantly plunging us right back into a neighborhood of commercial buildings and narrow alleyways.

Only realizing far too bloody late that not only was traffic much heavier here, but we were going the wrong direction.

“For crying out loud! It’s one-way, Mars!” Almond exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your ‘air on Grandad.”

Drivers laid on their horns as the suspect braked and swerved to avoid oncoming traffic. I hit the gas, following in his wake, trying my level best not to lose him as he wove in and out of traffic, doing my utmost to dodge cars which scrambled to get out of our way.

When we came to the end of the block, the driver braked and headed once again, down another narrow alley.

“Blimey. What’s this Wally doing?” I had the distinct impression we’d just made a giant loop de loop, headed in a roundabout way toward downtown Hollywood.

“Now we’re ‘eaded east on Cahuenga!” I shouted.

The suspect swerved around a slow-moving truck backing up perpendicularly into our lane.

The truck came to a stop, and I hit the brakes, swerving around the same vehicle.

The suspect’s brake lights came on as a parked flatbed trailer came into view in front of him.

Fuck me. I hit the brakes, all four tires screeching as the white sedan plowed into the flatbed.

The awful stench of burning rubber filled our car as I watched in horror as the entire top of the sedan sheared off, all the way down to the doors.

“Good Christ! Did you see that?” Alain screeched.

It wasn’t a survivable accident. Even though I didn’t see the driver’s decapitated head making a break for it and rolling down the street, I knew deep down that was exactly the fate he’d suffered. Probably the top of his shoulders as well, if I was being honest.

“’E’s gone,” I breathed into the coms.

“Repeat that, Mars,” Candy barked.

“He’s dead, boss,” Alain said. “Chase ended.”

“I see you on GPS. You’re at the corner of Cahuenga and Holycrest Drive?”

I searched for a street sign and nodded to myself. “That’s right, boss.” I glanced over at Alain; he looked peaky. All the blood had drained from his pale, aristocratic face.

“See you two in a minute,” Candy said.

“Righto, boss.”

“Hell’s…bloody…bells!” Alain exclaimed.

I nodded jerkily. “Ya can say that again, mate.”