Page 7 of Stars and Scars

I ‘mistakenly’ send a text to a prominent investigator downtown, adding plenty of attachments that spell out just what I think he’s buying and what Lovato is selling.

I duck back into the kitchen, pick up a gin and tonic and a plate of appetizers off someone else’s platter, and head back to Lovato’s table. I set the food down, using the movement to disguise the fact I’m slipping his phone into the booth beside him. When he finds it, Lovato will assume it fell out of his pocket.

I go back out the way I came in, leaving my apron where I found it. It will take some time for the authorities to work their way through the treasure trove of illegality I just sent to them. I look forward to Lovato getting what he deserves.

I walk a block down the street to where I parked the Jeep. I pay the exorbitant fee and get behind the wheel, finally able to spare a thought as to what kind of job Jax has for me.

I’ll probably get a job protecting some crusty old film producer. But then again, Jax said it would be right up my alley. Does that mean he needs my skills at subterfuge? Or maybe he knows that I’m subtle until it’s time to start raising Hell.

About halfway across the city I get a call. The screen says M. I tap the speaker and talk loud enough to be heard over the wind.

“What’s up, Malloy?”

“So, did you get him?”

“Let’s just say the sands of time are running out on Lovato. I couldn't have done it without your tip. Thanks again.”

“Yeah, well, just remember to pay it forward, all right? Listen, I’ve got some irons in the fire here. I might have something else for you soon.”

“Like what?”

“Can’t talk about it on an unsecured line, but trust me, the irons are almost white hot. You know, Gray, you really should find yourself a woman and settle down now that you’re done with the spook business. It might make you better able to let go of your grudges.”

“I don’t hold grudges.”

“Tell that to Lovato. Or Castillo…”

I grit my teeth. I can hear Malloy grunt on the other end.

“Sorry. I know that wound’s still pretty deep.”

“Always,” I reply. “And I’m not the settling down type.”

“That’s fair. Whatever happened to that waitress you were dating? Alice? Ellen? Something like that?”

“We were never dating, it was a hook up. She chewed too loud and tried to make everything about how her parents never really loved her.”

He chuckles. “What about that one chick? The hairdresser or whatever?”

“Make up artist. And again, not really someone I dated. She was always trying to get me to talk about the times I had to retire a target.”

“Is there any woman you would actually date?”

I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose.

“Who are you, my therapist? The only women who could possibly understand me enough to be with me for the long haul are exactly the type I could never trust. And I’m sure that they would feel the same way about me.”

“That they can’t trust you, on account of you being a former spook?”

I grunt. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, far be it from me to dole out love advice. I’ve been divorced three times, and the alimony is murder. Anyway, I’ve still got those irons in the fire, and I should know something fairly soon.”

“Hit me up when you do.”

I end the call then, because Malloy is that kind of contact. We’ve never been the closest friends, but we have a mutual respect based on our shared history with the CIA. We understand each other. Malloy is no saint, but then again, neither am I. He’s one of the few people I feel like I can trust.

He certainly came through today. In spades. I’ve been after Lovato for a long damn time, and when I retired from the spook business I was afraid he’d slipped through my fingers forever.

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