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CHAPTER ONE

Mick

I need to blow off soht

There are a lot of FBI agents that would be thrilled withpretty in a Hollywood Hills mansion with an infinity pool, private chef and a ertips Nothere in a rammed silk robe like an asshole for aout for a Budweiser

Decision er comb my beard and shove both feet into some boots There’s a dive bar sandwiched between a taco shop and a ninety-nine cent store less than a few hbors would set a shiny wingtip in the place, so my cover will be ht and the bigger, tackierout is dark and silent

For once

Most nights, the white European-style enclave is a riot of activity, luxury cars parked in the driveoly endless revolving door ofthe high life of Hollywood royalty

Not for long I’ent for the job By the time I ditch this eccentric billionaire cover, there will be a For Sale sign outside that s with ations

I lock the frosted glass door of the house behindthe sports car in a shitty part of town is probably not the best idea, but I’m desperate to shake this paet keyed, so be it Hazards of the job

It takes hway Before I know it, I’h a completely different world One I’rown up in South Boston A million miles froned to carry yoga n in the distance is a much better welcome than ten thousand thread count sheets, inht outside the dive bar—aptly named Kerplunk—and walk inside

“Dah underthan I expected None of the lights are on, the only illu candles and a neon pink jukebox That girly color fills the whole establish occupants There is a certain charh, as if soasps its final breath

With a dozen pairs of assessing eyes on ray-mustached bartender “Bud Bottle’s fine”

“Yeah”

He roots through the ice for rainy television When he sets it down in front ofhalf the thing in one gulp God, that’s good Part of e with expensive wine and organic juice, on the off chance someone stops by to introduce themselves Yeah, I have to walk the walk and talk the talk Soand I’ve been forced to tradelaps in my crystal-clear pool Like a proper billionaire

Christ, I can’t wait until this job is over

The bartender sets les beside irl walks in

I call her a girl, because that’s exactly what she is Petite as shit, her stature overwhelmed by the full, s covers her eyes, but she must be able to see, because her reaction to the bar is an accurate one Her scuffed boots cohter to her chest For a few counts, that’s all she is Hair and a coat

Until she shifts ht of that mouth

My cock grows a good two sizes inhard on the bar

Her lips are puffy with a slight vertical crease down the center, s innocent They’re parted just enough to see her pink tongue inside It’s the kind of ery to replicate—especially in Los Angeles—but they could never duplicate this bow-shaped creation It’sat the top of an Italian church