half blocks to Halâs. Abbot Kinney reminded Jack of the East Village. Art galleries, furniture stores, coffee shops, restaurants, overpriced designer clothing, multimillion-dollar loft buildings, â60s era junk shops, and a fancy medical marijuana establishment. Bicycles begrudgingly shared the road with cars, and aging hippies with guitars shared sidewalk space with west-side professionals being tugged along by their designer dogs.
Halâs Bar and Grill had a New York feel, with huge eclectic canvases on the walls, oversize metal sculptures acting as room dividers, American cuisine, and a great bar scene. Rebecca, one of the revolving maitre dâs, read the distress on Jackâs face as soon as he walked through the door. She pushed through the crowd waiting for tables, grabbed him by the arm, and immediately ushered him to a private table in the back of the large, open dining room where heâd have plenty of privacy. If Jack wasnât grilling, he ate at Halâs, and Rebecca, an aspiring actress who had auditioned for Law and Order SVU , Blue Bloods , and CSI , understood an ex-copâs reticence about sitting with his back facing the door.
Jack wasnât much of a drinker, but he ordered a double Stoli on the rocks. His stomach was still off, but he knew if he didnât eat something, heâd pay for it later. He ordered a dinner salad with blue cheese and a medium-rare flank steak with fries, and settled into his drink.
The vodka was spreading a welcome warmth when he noticed a woman slide into a rare empty space at the bar, pull off her hat, and glance in Jackâs direction, looking very pleased with herself for having scored a stool. Whatever relief Jack was feeling from the drink was immediately lost as the woman shook her blond hair loose. With her long hair draped sensually over her shoulders, she looked like a younger version of Mia.
Over the years he had learned most of Miaâs story. At the beginning he listened to gain her trust and establish a good rapport. As time passed, however, he became genuinely interested in all sheâd been through.
Confidential informants came in all shapes and sizes, but their motivations fell into two main categories. Some CIs did it for money, and some had been busted and wanted to work off their prison time. From Jackâs experience, one wasnât any better or more reliable than the other. They were both necessary evils if a New York City cop wanted to infiltrate major drug cells.
Mia had been a beauty pageant winner in her late teens. Voted Miss Colombia, she was a real head turner. Sheâd had plenty of suitors, but one young man stood out like a thunderbolt, and Mia fell hard, in true love, her soul mate.
The one wrinkle in their storybook love affair was that the young manâs father was Jose Ordinola, a notorious drug kingpin. Well, two wrinkles: he didnât approve of their relationship. That was a problem. This was a man who got what he wanted. He controlled a multibillion-dollar cocaine empire. A nod of his head could end a life. A whispered order could destroy an entire village. Ordinola loved his son more than life itself, but refused to be disobeyed. It set a bad precedent.
The young lovers were impetuous, willful, and naïve, having the arrogance of youth. They continued to see each other behind closed doors, in out-of-the-way bistros, at friendsâ flats, hidden from prying eyes, in nearby cities. But as careful as they were in planning their assignations, they fell short on birth control and Mia got knocked up.
She was overjoyed, as was her young suitor, thinking that their love child would eventually heal all wounds. After all, Jose Ordinola was a devout Catholic who donated vast amounts of money to the church. The Colombian archbishop was a frequent dinner guest.
When Ordinolaâs operatives informed him of the pregnancy, he was furious but controlled his rage and tried to reason with the young
Halâs Bar and Grill had a New York feel, with huge eclectic canvases on the walls, oversize metal sculptures acting as room dividers, American cuisine, and a great bar scene. Rebecca, one of the revolving maitre dâs, read the distress on Jackâs face as soon as he walked through the door. She pushed through the crowd waiting for tables, grabbed him by the arm, and immediately ushered him to a private table in the back of the large, open dining room where heâd have plenty of privacy. If Jack wasnât grilling, he ate at Halâs, and Rebecca, an aspiring actress who had auditioned for Law and Order SVU , Blue Bloods , and CSI , understood an ex-copâs reticence about sitting with his back facing the door.
Jack wasnât much of a drinker, but he ordered a double Stoli on the rocks. His stomach was still off, but he knew if he didnât eat something, heâd pay for it later. He ordered a dinner salad with blue cheese and a medium-rare flank steak with fries, and settled into his drink.
The vodka was spreading a welcome warmth when he noticed a woman slide into a rare empty space at the bar, pull off her hat, and glance in Jackâs direction, looking very pleased with herself for having scored a stool. Whatever relief Jack was feeling from the drink was immediately lost as the woman shook her blond hair loose. With her long hair draped sensually over her shoulders, she looked like a younger version of Mia.
Over the years he had learned most of Miaâs story. At the beginning he listened to gain her trust and establish a good rapport. As time passed, however, he became genuinely interested in all sheâd been through.
Confidential informants came in all shapes and sizes, but their motivations fell into two main categories. Some CIs did it for money, and some had been busted and wanted to work off their prison time. From Jackâs experience, one wasnât any better or more reliable than the other. They were both necessary evils if a New York City cop wanted to infiltrate major drug cells.
Mia had been a beauty pageant winner in her late teens. Voted Miss Colombia, she was a real head turner. Sheâd had plenty of suitors, but one young man stood out like a thunderbolt, and Mia fell hard, in true love, her soul mate.
The one wrinkle in their storybook love affair was that the young manâs father was Jose Ordinola, a notorious drug kingpin. Well, two wrinkles: he didnât approve of their relationship. That was a problem. This was a man who got what he wanted. He controlled a multibillion-dollar cocaine empire. A nod of his head could end a life. A whispered order could destroy an entire village. Ordinola loved his son more than life itself, but refused to be disobeyed. It set a bad precedent.
The young lovers were impetuous, willful, and naïve, having the arrogance of youth. They continued to see each other behind closed doors, in out-of-the-way bistros, at friendsâ flats, hidden from prying eyes, in nearby cities. But as careful as they were in planning their assignations, they fell short on birth control and Mia got knocked up.
She was overjoyed, as was her young suitor, thinking that their love child would eventually heal all wounds. After all, Jose Ordinola was a devout Catholic who donated vast amounts of money to the church. The Colombian archbishop was a frequent dinner guest.
When Ordinolaâs operatives informed him of the pregnancy, he was furious but controlled his rage and tried to reason with the young
Similar Books
