“Better than the Playboy mansion. No old balls.”

Mike stayed on point. “I know you’re familiar with my background. What I used to do?”

“Yeah, bro. Ex-cop, right?”

“That’s right. LAPD, narcotics.”

“And then you went to prison for corruption. I ripped off a copy of that reporter’s book.”

Mike wasn’t about to get into the whole story. “So I know what I see when I look at this house.”

Kieran sobered a bit. “Hey, I lease this place, the cars. Six months of entertaining big-money a-holes in a house like this pays off stacks of cash for what it costs. Got to spend it to make it, man.”

“I get it,” Mike said. “Who am I kidding? I don’t know shit about finance, but like you said, everyone thinks you used to deal. Now you’ve got a buttload of cash.”

Kieran nodded more times than he needed to. “Yeah, I get it, I get it.”

He took a few steps toward the balcony, came right back. “Let’s say I did hook some people up in college. I’m not saying I did, Mike, but if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk my future by getting caught. Shit, if I was, they would have locked me up two years ago, whether I knew what happened to Angela or not. Here’s the answer I give anyone who asks: I saw a niche in the market and filled it. Me and my bros started a farm that grows organic vegetables, certified and everything, then supplies places that don’t mind paying way too much for the label. Fraternities, sororities? Shit, colleges are full of people who don’t know the value of a greenhouse and some topsoil. Plus they’ll pay extra for that hydroponic shit.”

Mike smiled. “That’s great.”

“Yeah, I’m a farmer, bro.”

Mike beat Michelson to it, raised his hand. “Up top, K.”

A greenhouse, topsoil, and hydroponics—necessary elements for both an organic farm and a marijuana growhouse. Organic veggies might cost an extra buck or two at the store, but no way they added up to a Lexus, Range Rover, and house full of topless women. Mike had everything Caitlin needed. He’d eat the man’s steak, then leave before the second wave of strippers washed up.

Chapter 21

CHAPTER

21

MARY EXCUSED HERSELF after an hour of celebratory post–press conference darts and beer, leaving Caitlin and Lakshmi on the sidewalk a block from Kilroy’s Sports.

“Well, kid,” Caitlin said, breathing in the night air. “First you called out an FBI agent in front of a room full of pros, then you kicked both Mary and my asses at darts. How do you feel?”

Lakshmi laughed. “You were the one who told me to bring up Foreman. It’s not like he said anything useful.”