Page 14

Chapter Thirteen

Fitz

“Fitz, you got a second?” I glanced over my shoulder to see Hardy heading toward the swamp with a file folder and a laptop in his hands.

I was dragging ass that morning because I had slept for shit the previous night, stewing about what had happened with Sawyer. I couldn’t ride the roller coaster with him when it came to how he approached the idea of a relationship. I was starting a new life, and this time, I wasn’t going to let a guy jerk me around.

I was fifty-fucking-years old. Way too old for that drama.

I stood from my desk and followed Hardy into the conference room. “What’s up, Hardy?”

He wrangled the laptop for a moment before he sat down next to me. “Remember a few weeks ago when you asked me to get information on TJ Middleton, one of our clients?”

I’d forgotten about it, what with all the recent bullshit in my life. It seemed I’d fallen into the mindset of a hunter—once the prey is caught, move onto the next hunt.

“Oh, yeah. What did you find?”

Hardy took a deep breath, excitement oozing out of him. “So, I tapped into the street cams on Fremont that night.” He popped up a picture on the screen of the laptop and zoomed in.

It was definitely TJ Middleton on the video. He was talking to a tall man who was wearing a flashy black leather jacket with a studded collar outside the Blue Diamond Casino. “Who’s the guy he’s talking to, do you know?”

“His name is Jimmy Germaine. He’s a low-level fight promoter. Mostly underground stuff. He works out of Boxed In, a gym on East Ogden. Now watch.” Hardy zoomed out so we could see the action as it unfolded.

Germaine handed TJ something, and they spoke a few seconds before TJ went into the casino and Germaine walked over to an illegally parked SUV. The occupant rolled down the window and an envelope was handed to Germaine before the SUV sped away down North Las Vegas Boulevard.

“What do you think that was about?” Hardy stopped the video.

“Well, Sawyer Abbott mentioned TJ worked as a sparring partner at the gym where Germaine trains and promotes young fighters. Sawyer says TJ’s very good at it, too.” I wasn’t sure if he knew firsthand or if it was by word of mouth, and I didn’t want to know. The less I knew about Sawyer Abbott, the better. He took up far too much space in my head already.

“Okay, uh, let’s fast forward.” Hardy hit something on the laptop and the video sped up until bike police, an armored police van, and an ambulance pulled up outside the casino.

Hardy slowed it, and we watched as three uniforms rushed inside while two more tried to control the crowd. People gathered around to watch the spectacle, and the EMTs slid a gurney from the back of the ambulance and followed the police inside.

Hardy sped the video again and stopped it. “Here’s TJ in cuffs.” The cops escorted him to the armored van and put him inside just as the gurney was pushed out of the front entrance.

The video stopped, and Hardy zoomed in on the bloody man on the gurney. “That’s Romero Garza. He’s one of Jimmy Germaine’s fighters.”

“Okay, so Germaine set up something—a fight at the hotel? Why? If they host underground fights at that gym, why arrange something at the hotel. Didn’t the neighbors at the hotel call in a disturbance?”

I pulled my notebook out of my shirt pocket and flipped back through to see I had written it down. “Yeah, uh, the neighbors called in the disturbance and the cops labeled it a dispute over a sexual transaction gone wrong.”

Hardy stopped the video again. “I don’t think that’s what it was at all. Maybe it was a tryout. If Germaine didn’t want anyone to see TJ fight, they wouldn’t have held it at the gym, right? TJ only sparred at Boxed In a couple times from what one of the trainers told me.” Hardy sped the video again and stopped it.

I turned to him and stared for a moment. “What were you doing at Boxed In? Don’t get yourself into trouble, or your dad will have my ass.”

Hardy chuckled. “Don’t worry. I went in to see about signing up for self-defense classes, which they don’t have. Monty already taught me some stuff about defending myself. Besides, I already knew they didn’t have the classes. I said a guy I’d recently met at a bar on Fremont suggested I check there. The trainer, Voss Graham, knew TJ and said he sparred there but hadn’t been in for a while.”

That was interesting, though there were still a few pieces missing from the story. “How long ago was this?”

“Monday. Now, check this out and tell me if this is a coincidence.” Hardy pushed the button to advance the video.

There, on the sidewalk to the left of the crowd, were two men. They were staring in the direction of the gurney. Romero held his arm up in the air and made a thumbs-up gesture, and the two men to the side pounded fists.

We watched the footage of the two of them turning around and walking away. That was when I noticed the cuts. “Stop it and zoom in.”

Hardy was on it, but the picture was blurry. “Can you clean that up a little?”

He tapped away on the keyboard, and the screen became clearer, but we still couldn’t make it out. “That’s the best I can do with the footage on this laptop. I’ll work on it at my other computer if you want me to clean it up more.”

“Or you can send it to my friend. He can probably fix it up.”

Hardy stiffened beside me. “I can take care of it. Give me a few hours.”

He slammed the lid on the laptop and gathered the file and his computer, storming out of the room without another word. Clearly, I’d pissed the kid off.

I chuckled, remembering back to when I had so much to prove. Apparently, my young friend was in the thick of it at the moment.

“Jagger Hansen, Sparks Bail Bonds. We’re here for Albert Wilcox.”

Jagger and I were outside the Clark County Detention Center to bail out a guy arrested for trespassing at one of the casinos. The bail was five thousand, and while most folks could come up with ten percent, Sparky had given us five hundreds and asked us to bail out the guy, so there we were.

The door buzzed and we went inside to the front desk. It was six in the evening and I’d have much rather been anywhere else on the Wednesday night before Halloween, but I had a job to do, and it required me to bail out a guy for trespassing. It wasn’t like I had any plans anyway.

The redheaded female clerk I’d seen the first time I’d gone to the county jail to bail someone out with Greeley was smiling at us. “Fresh meat, I see.”

I chuckled. “Fitz Morgan and Jagger Hansen, ma’am. You are?” I extended my hand to shake hers. We weren’t properly introduced the last time.

“A gentleman, I see. I’m Anita Graves. Tell Greeley that we miss him at Piggy’s.” I nodded, and Jagger handed her the paperwork before she disappeared through a door that led back to the holding area.

A few minutes later, Deputy Dirk Marin stepped through the door with a middle-aged Black man, hands cuffed in front of him. The man appeared to be none the worse for wear.

“Albert Wilcox for Sparks Bail Bonds.” Marin uncuffed the man, who immediately rubbed his wrists.

I approached the bailee while Jagger went to the window and paid, waiting for the receipt and getting copies made of the paperwork. “Mr. Wilcox, sir, did they treat you well?”

The man glanced around the large waiting room, but didn’t answer, clutching the envelope with his personal belongings. I wondered if he was hard of hearing, but I didn’t dare ask, not seeing any hearing aids.

Jagger returned to where we were standing and stared at Mr. Wilcox. “Can we drop you somewhere, Mr. Wilcox?”

Without answering, the man walked out of the building. When we exited the intake area, Mr. Wilcox was waiting for us on the sidewalk.

“I need to see Jesse Sparks.” Wilcox lifted an eyebrow as he glanced at Jagger, then me.

I’d driven my truck from the office, so I nodded and led the way. I opened the back passenger door, and Jagger got in. I opened the front door for Mr. Wilcox before heading to the other side and hopping into the driver’s seat.

For the first five minutes, it was awkward. Jagger, who had been a talker during our ride from Laughlin, had clammed up. Based on the way he was staring at his phone, my partner had no plans to talk Mr. Wilcox’s ears off like he’d done mine.

“Do you live in town or are you visiting, Mr. Wilcox?” I wondered if I should warn Sparky that Mr. Wilcox was on the way. I’d assumed Sparky knew the man, which is why he gave us the cash for the bond, but what if they were enemies? Was I delivering a deadly weapon to my boss?

“I’m a private investigator in Tallahassee. I’ve known Sparky since he worked as a fire investigator back home. We’re not besties, but I have some information for him that he might want to know.”

That was interesting. “Why’d you get arrested for trespassing?”

“I’m here on a job, and I accidentally propositioned an undercover police officer who I thought might want to have a date. I’ve never had good taste in women.” Mr. Wilcox popped the cuffs on his white dress shirt and stared out the window.

I glanced in the rearview mirror to see Jagger hiding his laugh behind his palm, the jackass. I wanted to give him the finger.

“There are places outside of Clark County where you can find that kind of company, though I find it hard to believe you’d need to pay for it.” I glanced at him to see Mr. Wilcox wasn’t as old as I thought.

The man was prematurely gray, much like me, and quite attractive. His skin was golden brown, and he had a few freckles over his cheeks. He was wearing a signet ring on his index finger, and his eyes were deep brown.

Mr. Wilcox chuckled. “Yes, so I’ve heard. I wanted to get arrested and go to jail. The guy I was sent here to find was arrested yesterday on a DUI charge, but he’s wanted back in Florida for domestic abuse. I needed to get eyes on him to ensure he’s the right person. I doubted they’d let me just go back there to look at the jailbirds.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure they frown on that. How will you get this charge dismissed?”

“That’s part of why I need to see Jesse.” He glanced at me and smirked before he turned to look at Jagger. “You boys don’t look like the usual bounty hunters I’ve run across over the years. You could easily pass for law enforcement.”

Jagger and I both laughed. “Guilty as charged. Former Nevada State Trooper. Patrolman for Reno PD before that.”

“Former Navy, US Marshal, and private security.” I took the highway exit for South Rainbow.

“Where are you staying in town, Mr. Wilcox?” I merged onto the Rainbow not far from the office.

“Please, call me Albie. I’m staying at the Gold Coast. My client is a cheap fucker.” We all laughed at his comment as I turned into the parking lot of the strip mall where our office was located.

“Why’d they charge you with trespassing if it was solicitation?” Jagger asked before we got out in front of the office instead of behind it. I was hoping I’d get to go home once I dropped the two of them off.

Albie laughed. “The lady cop liked me. If I wasn’t now banned from the Linq Casino Hotel, I’d go back and find her, but that might be pressing my luck.”

Jagger opened the door for us. “Yes, I wouldn’t recommend it if I were you.”

I went through the small gate dividing the waiting area from the swamp, which was empty, of course. It was after eight o’clock.

I walked over to Sparky’s closed door and knocked. “It’s me, Sparky. I’ve got someone to see you.”

“Hang… uh, hang… fuck … hang on a sec.” It was Monty, and the tone of his voice and the mumbling I heard through the door told me exactly what was going on.

“It’s Mr. Wilcox.” I walked away before I heard anything more.

Good for them for getting down and dirty at the office!

“He’ll be right out. Can I get you some water or coffee? We might have some soda in the kitchen.”

“Uh, a bottle of water would be nice. They just have a water fountain in the holding cell, and it looked like it hadn’t had a good cleaning in a while.”

I nodded and headed to the kitchen to get a few bottles of water. I was pretty sure Monty and Sparky would need them, too, after the workout it sounded like they’d just had.

As I returned, the door to Sparky’s office opened and Monty rushed out toward the bathroom. I glanced at Sparky, who was combing his hair with a shit-eating grin on his flushed face.

He walked out of the gate and over to Albie Wilcox. “ Albie! What the hell did you do? Come on and tell me what the fuck you’re doing in town and why I had to bail your ass out of jail. When did you get to Vegas?”

I offered a bottle of water to Albie and handed the other two bottles to Sparky. “You need anything else from us?” I glanced over my shoulder to see Jagger put the file on Denise’s desk.

“Naw, you guys take off. Albie, my husband and I want to take you out for dinner.” He turned to Jagger and me. “You guys wanna join us?”

“I wish I could, but I need to get home. I call my parents on Wednesday nights, and I wanna get them before they go to bed. They’re two hours ahead of us.” I shook Albie’s hand, gave Sparky a fist bump, and headed out to my truck. It had been quite a day.

When I got home, a familiar Harley Softail Classic was parked on the far side of the driveway. I parked in the garage and walked around the side of the house to see Sawyer doing something to the gate for the backyard.

“You lockin’ me out?” I laughed as I said it so he could tell I was joking. I wasn’t sure where we stood, but I wasn’t about to ruin a chance we could maybe be friends. I didn’t have many in town.

Sawyer grinned. “In a way.” He handed me a key before he locked the gate with the other in his hand.

“I noticed the last time that the old lock wasn’t working, so I bought a new one. Nobody—even me—should be able to get back there. It’s a matter of you feeling safe in your home.” He looked so serious, my heart pounded in my chest.

I was a little choked up that he cared so much about the gate, especially in light of how we’d left things. “You, uh, you didn’t have to do it. I could have put a new one on. To be honest, I’ve mostly focused on the inside of the house and haven’t been home enough to worry about the backyard. You got time for a beer?”

For some mysterious reason, Sawyer had me tied up in knots. Would friendship with him be enough? Was it in the cards for us? Or was I paving the way to secretly pine for the man and be happy with any crumbs of attention he’d offer me? That was basically the same shit I’d done with Zayn Reddy and that hadn’t turned out well for me. Hadn’t I told myself I wasn’t going to settle any longer?

Here he was, putting a new lock on the gate. His face was beautiful and earnest when he said, “Thanks, but I’ll get out of your hair.”

He walked to that gorgeous bike, pulled on his helmet, and cranked it. The wink he gave me before he put on his sunglasses had me melting in my boots.