Chapter One
MARS
The next morning, I stood in the car park at the office, staring at my poor car.
“Sorry that happened, Clifford,” Candy said, laying a sympathetic hand on my shoulder as we surveyed the damage my gorgeous Camaro had suffered the night before.
“Snow’s team was sure they’d scooped up everyone.
Never expected that house to be occupied.
Put in a repair request. The Bureau will pay for the repairs since it happened while you were on duty. ”
I ran a hand through my hair as I took in the long line of scratches and dents that marred the entire length of the passenger side. They stood out starkly against what was left of the black paint. “Just wish I would’ve known there was a basement.”
“It ended up okay anyway.” Candy patted my shoulder. “Just…sorry about the damage. At least it looks repairable.”
“Thanks, Candy. I ‘onestly don’t know if it’s worth fixing. I was planning on taking Mickey with me to Vegas to trade it in this weekend anyway.”
Candy cleared his throat. He seemed nervous, but the captain wasn’t the nervous type. He was always so sure of himself, which was one of the reasons we all respected him so much. “I…ah…actually came down here to tell you about the Bureau paying for the damage, but there is something else.”
“What?” I asked hesitantly.
“Well, this morning, when I briefed Lincoln on the takedown last night, he said when his team was interrogating the ringleader, he found out that in fact, he wasn’t the ringleader after all.”
I had a sneaky suspicion I would hate whatever he was about to say. “’Oo was he then, boss?”
“He actually answers to the big guy who apparently—” He looked down at his feet before shaking his head.
“Boss? You’re killing me ‘ere.”
He looked up. “The operation is run in Las Vegas, not LA like Lincoln thought.”
Ah…shite. Everything he didn’t want to say suddenly became painfully clear. “Vegas?”
“Yes, and I know this is your weekend off, but we think the head honcho is definitely in Vegas, just in case you ran into him,” he finished quickly.
My eyebrows elevated. “Ran into ‘im? Like over me prawn cocktail, or something? I’m there for the vehicle auction, that’s all.” I waited as he just stared at me. “What? Are you saying ‘e goes to the Vegas auctions?”
Candy set his hands on his hips and looked away before turning back to me. “Lincoln’s team uncovered a sizeable garage near the port which they thought was a warehouse for his drug network. Instead, they were surprised to find it filled with vehicles…lots of vehicles.”
It finally dawned on me what he was talking about. “Oh, I get it. ‘E bought them from the Vegas auction?”
Candy nodded slowly. “Some of them, yes.”
“The big auction they ‘old once a month?” I didn’t really have to ask. He wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.
“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.”
He laughed louder. “Okay, okay.”
I checked the speedo again, easing off the gas since I was approaching ninety. I looked into the rearview mirror. No flashing lights. We were all good.
“So, have you decided whether you’re going to trade up this trip, or just have your buddy fix her up?”
I shrugged. “All depends. If something catches me eye, maybe. If not, then no.” The billboards peppered the highway now that we were only fifty miles from Vegas.
They promised everything from all-you-can-eat buffets for $12.
99, to the loosest slots in Vegas. I promised myself I’d try and find that chicken-fried lobster place again, knowing Mickey would appreciate it.
With Rex still recovering from his paralysis, we were all missing his weekly barbeques.
I rarely brought anyone with me to Vegas, so treating a mate would be fun.
As if picking up on my thoughts, Mickey said, “So, Cachi and his mama moved in with Rex.”
I grinned. “I ‘eard. What do ya think of ‘im?”
“Cachi? I like him. He doesn’t take any shit from Rex.”
“Truth.”
Mickey chuckled. “I’m glad Rex finally pulled his head out of his ass and made up with him. That shit went on way too long.”
I grinned. “I knew ‘e was a goner at that first breakfast we ‘ad.”
“At Du-par’s? Yeah. I could tell too. He was blushing like a schoolgirl.”
I laughed. “Don’t let Rex ‘ear ya say that. ‘E’ll skin ya.”
“I’m just happy they’re happy. I wasn’t sure the Texan would ever find a man. He didn’t date much.”
“As far as I know, ‘e didn’t date at all after moving ‘ere from ‘Ouston.”
“Well, I think it’s kinda great that everyone seems to be settling down,” Mickey said.
When he didn’t go on, I shot him a quick glance before returning my attention to the road. “I notice ya don’t date much either, Mickey.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I-I guess I just haven’t found the right guy and it’s not like we have a hell of a lot of time to go out looking.”
“Nash, Patsy, and Rex are all on the same schedule we are, and they found their guys,” I argued.
Mickey threw up his hands. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m making excuses. I don’t know. Dating’s such a chore.”
I felt his eyes on me and chanced a look over. He was wearing an amused smirk. “What?”
“I don’t exactly see you burning up the clubs,” Mickey replied.
I shook my head and chuckled. “I ‘ate going to clubs. To be ‘onest, I’m kinda shocked Rex went out and found ‘imself a dancer at one. Even more surprised that Cachi turned out to be such a great bloke. I ‘onestly didn’t know Rex ‘ad it in ‘im to find the love of ‘is life.”