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Chapter Six

Sawyer

After I finished hauling and assembling Aunt Janice’s furniture for Fitz, I got into my truck and drove out to the East Adkisson house to check on TJ. The parking lot was busy, but it was Saturday. It was exactly what I hoped to see.

I stepped out of the truck and walked to the front door, ringing the bell so George Phillips, our guy who guarded the East Adkisson house during the day, didn’t shoot me. When Hannah Graham, the assistant at the house, opened the door, I saw George behind her, his hand planted on his gun.

I smirked at him. “Nice to see you’re on the job.”

“Bones! It’s good to see you. Can we get you a room?” Hannah’s suggestion was tempting, but I had other things on my mind.

“Thanks, Hannah, but no. I’m here to see TJ. Is he around?”

“Yeah. Let me contact him for you.”

I followed Hannah into the living room where eight guys were slobbering over three of our girls and two of our guys. I didn’t interfere with the brothels. The folks who worked there knew the business better than me, and I was smart enough not to piss them off.

Our priority with the men and women who worked for us was to ensure they were healthy, happy and safe, wanting for nothing. They paid us a percentage of their take which we used to take care of them in return.

Unlike the mob, we didn’t kick up to anyone. The guys and gals got a better deal with us than they did with the other houses in Nye County, which made for some jealousy and occasional retaliation if a worker from another house decided to come work for us.

That was why George lived in a small casita behind the house at East Adkisson, and the club members took turns giving him time off and watching out for things at the North Woodchips property. That was why Miri was there on Thursday night. I needed to talk to her about leaving early and not calling me so I could have sent someone to relieve her.

We were still deciding what to do with Wheeler Pass since the house caught fire thanks to the Scorpions. It had taken a chunk out of our income, but replacing the house—which couldn’t be a permanent structure—was tricky. If there was enough of it left and it was stable, we could get a remodel permit instead of a new construction permit, which Nye County wasn’t currently giving out for brothels. I’d need to get someone smarter than me to maneuver the law. That would need to come up the next time we had church.

“TJ’s in his room, alone. You want me to get him to come here?”

I lifted my hand. “I’ll go to him. Text him it’s me knocking.”

Hannah nodded, pecking out a message to him. I headed down the hallway where the rooms were located. When I arrived at TJ’s room, I listened for a minute. There was the sound of a television, which I hoped meant he hadn’t been sleeping.

I knocked twice on the door before it opened. “Boss. Come in.”

TJ stepped out of the way and allowed me into his room. He took a seat on the bed, and I walked to a chair in the corner.

After I sat, I stared at the young guy. He was so young, and I couldn’t put together why he was at Cowpokes in the first place. Didn’t he have a family out there? Was there nobody he could depend on or discuss big life decisions? I still called my folks on occasion to talk things out, and I was thirty-five years old.

“Kid, tell me what’s going on. You’re not the kind of guy who beats the fuck out of johns, and you don’t go against the rules and head to Fremont Street. Tell me why you went to The Old Strip. Were you tricking there? Are you taking outcalls downtown? Because if you are, you can’t work here.”

TJ sat up, jutting his chin out as if it would prove to me that he didn’t need anyone. “I’m not tricking anywhere but here, Bones. I signed a contract with you, and I’m going to honor it. What I was doing at the Blue Diamond has nothing to do with Cowpokes, and I’d rather not bring my fucked-up mess into the house.”

I glanced at the floor and shook my head. Such a cocky guy. Reminded me of myself when I was younger and my dad was the president of the Cowboys.

“I appreciate that, TJ, but I can’t say I’m satisfied with your answer.”

TJ turned away from me. “Sorry, but that’s the only answer you’re gonna get.”

“Kid, tell me why you were there. Did this guy do something to you that we didn’t know about? What the fuck is going on? Let me help you.”

“Look, Bones, the guy wasn’t a john, and I wasn’t tricking. I can’t tell you what I was doing there. If you need to fire me, do it. I’m not being disrespectful because you’ve been good to me. The club has been good to me. I don’t want to leave, but I can’t tell you what I was doing there. I owe a debt, and I’ll pay it. Someone else will pay the price if word gets out about what happened.”

“Tell me who that guy was to you and who would pay the price. You have the full force of the club behind you, TJ. We can keep someone safe if you’ve been threatened. You gotta let us know what’s going on.”

The kid looked at me, his big blue eyes shining with tears. “I wish I could, but if I do, they’ll hurt someone I care about.”

That statement alone was enough. “TJ, do you not think we can protect you or anyone you love?”

I saw the pain on his face before it morphed into stubbornness. “Thanks, Bones. Am I staying or going?”

“You’re staying. Call me if you wanna talk or when you’re ready to explain what happened to me. You’re not alone, TJ. Make sure you go to the health check tomorrow so you can get back to work on Tuesday.”

He nodded and went into his private bathroom, closing the door. I stood and let myself out, having no more information than now than when I’d stepped on the porch. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He said he wasn’t tricking when he was there. That was a relief.

I started my pickup truck and hit Bluetooth. “Call the clubhouse.”

The phone was answered right away. “Yeah, Prez.”

“T-Roy, I need a favor. Can you get one of the prospects to come to the East Adkisson house to watch out for TJ Middleton? Something is up with him that he’s not ready to talk about yet. I just want him safe.”

“You got it, Prez. He won’t know I’m anywhere in the vicinity.”

Troy Turnbill was the sergeant-at-arms of the Cowboys and a great guy. His parents had been killed in cold blood by the Scorpions. T-Roy was a good friend of mine, and I knew he was still struggling with the loss of his parents. If he wanted to babysit TJ, then I wouldn’t question it. He was a caretaker at heart, just as his parents had been.

I wanted to help Troy find some peace about what happened to his parents, and I had the feeling TJ might be able to help. First, I had to get TJ to come clean about what the hell was going on with him.

At seven thirty, the back parking lot at The Bootlegger was full, but I saw Fitz’s new truck was already there. I parked nearby and quickly walked to the door, stopping to check my look in the glass before going inside.

I’d pulled out a dress shirt that I only wore on special occasions and a pair of new jeans that I was yet to wear. I had a nice pair of boots that I’d cleaned up, and my long hair was in a ponytail on the top with the rest of it loose around my shoulders.

I’d trimmed up my beard and mustache and even got rid of a few stray hairs between my eyebrows, in my ears, and up my nose. I wasn’t one who did a lot of manscaping, but I’d taken extra care to be sure I didn’t look like a Neanderthal.

I walked into the restaurant and approached the host stand. “I have an eight o’clock reservation for two. Under Abbott.”

The young woman picked up a tablet and pecked into it. “The other member of your party is at the bar. Would you like to be seated immediately or closer to eight?”

“Let’s keep the original reservation. I’ll join my friend in the bar.” She nodded and swept her hand toward the hall to the large U-shaped bar.

I walked around to the far end where Fitz was sitting in a bar chair that wasn’t in front of a video poker machine. The stool next to him was empty, so I sat.

Fitz was watching something on television, but when I sat next to him, he began speaking. “I’m sorry. That seat—” He tore his eyes away from the television and grinned. “It’s you.”

“You beat me here.”

Fitz grinned. “I packed up my stuff at the hotel. I’ll be moving in tomorrow if that’s okay. Did you bring the lease?”

“No. Like I said earlier today, I just want to get to know you and not worry about business. We’ll get it signed, no worries. I moved Aunt Janice’s furniture inside for you to use until you get some stuff of your own. There’s a mattress place a couple of miles from the house that’s open on Sundays.” I put my hands in my lap to keep Fitz from seeing them shake.

I was fucking nervous. I didn’t date, as a rule. Too much hassle.

When I met Fitz, I quickly figured out he expected more than a quick fuck. The dinner invitation flew out of my mouth before the blood from my dick recirculated to my brain.

“What can I get you to drink?” The bartender tossed down a napkin.

“I’ll have an IPA.” I turned to Fitz. “Want another?” He was drinking a draft beer, too.

“Yeah, the same, thanks.” Fitz was tearing off little pieces of his napkin and balling them between his index finger and his thumb dropping them on the bar top. Was he as nervous as me?

“Two IPAs coming up.”

The bartender walked away, and I turned to Fitz. “This is a little awkward, isn’t it? First dates are a new thing to me.”

The handsome man laughed. “Yeah, I’m not very good at them either. Haven’t been on one in a while.”

He had to be lying. He was so fucking handsome, surely, he’d had a lot of opportunities to date. “Let’s get the crap out of the way. I’ve never been in a serious relationship. Wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to go about it.”

For a moment, Fitz studied me and grinned. “Ah. I’ve had a couple of serious relationships—or so I thought. The last guy went back to India to marry a woman his parents selected for him. We hadn’t made it official, but there was a lot of potential. I was wrong. Seems I’m always the one who gets left behind.” He lowered his head to study the bar top, not meeting my gaze.

Without thinking, I lifted my hand and put it on his shoulder. “I guess we’re a pair, huh?”

Fitz glanced up and smirked. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

Our beers came, and we sat in silence for a few minutes, me pretending to watch a rerun of last year’s Super Bowl game. When they took a commercial break, I swiveled my chair toward Fitz. “Do you wanna skip dinner?”

His head snapped up and his gaze met mine. “Uh, no. Do you? Neither of us are looking for anything permanent from tonight. Let’s eat some spaghetti and see where the night takes us.”

I nodded, we finished our drinks, and we headed over to the host stand. As long as Fitz didn’t expect hearts and flowers, I believed we could have some fun together.

The Bootlegger had the typical Vegas-meets-the-mob vibe. There were lots of pictures of famous visitors on the walls, while music from old-school crooners filled the air. We were seated in a semicircular booth reminiscent of the Vegas show style I’d seen in movies.

The host pulled out the table for us to slide into the booth before he shoved the table into place and water was delivered to our table. I liked the vibe, and the place smelled of garlic, tomatoes, and every good thing I’d come to expect from the times I had eaten there.

“Anything you can recommend?” Fitz scanned the extensive menu.

“Uh, they’re sort of known for their meat sauce, so anything with that is damn good. I like the chicken parm, and the steaks are delicious. The portions are big.”

We settled on an appetizer of antipasto and some garlic-butter bites. We each got a steak and a side of pasta, and Fitz got a glass of Chianti while I ordered another beer.

When the server left, I glanced at the handsome man. He wasn’t exactly shy, but he was a bit guarded. “So, tell me about the guy from India.”

The corners of Fitz’s mouth tipped up. “Trust me. You don’t want to hear my sob story. How’s TJ? Did you find out anything about what happened on Thursday night?”

“You mean when TJ beat the crap out of that guy?”

“Yeah. TJ’s not a big guy. I was surprised to hear he put someone in the hospital.”

I smirked. “He’s an MMA sparring partner at a local gym. Boxed In, I think it’s called. It’s off East Ogden downtown. He fights on the underground circuit. I honestly thought he had a fight at the gym on Thursday night, which was why I was surprised to find out he was at the Blue Diamond.”

“He a card player?” Fitz took a sip of his wine.

I hadn’t thought about the kid being there to play cards. “He’s worked for me for a year. I don’t know a lot about any of my employees’ personal lives. I might need to start asking some questions. If the kid has a gambling problem, that might explain why he said if he told me what was going on, someone will kill someone he loves.”

God, that made so much fucking sense. If the kid was in debt to some of the sharks in town, then I was sure they would have no problem threatening his family—if he had one.

“You want me to get someone to check him out? I still have some friends back in New York who could dig a little into the kid’s background.”

It was a nice offer for Fitz to make, but we did background checks on our employees before we hired them. TJ’s criminal background check showed only a speeding ticket from California the previous year. His parents lived in Bakersfield, which is where he got the ticket as he was driving to Vegas from a few days off to visit his folks.

All of TJ’s drug and STI tests had come back negative for any infections or diseases, not that I didn’t think they would. The kid was a health nut who worked out for hours every morning before his day job started.

TJ was also a top earner at Cowpokes and never caused any problems. I owed him some privacy.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll have my guy do some digging. TJ’s one who doesn’t talk about his personal life, so I’m hesitant to ask someone else to investigate him. I’ll see what comes up with a search. If the kid’s in trouble, I want to help him.”

“If he can fight, why does he work in a brothel?” Fitz’s voice didn’t hold any judgment, which was a relief.

“Because that’s what he’s chosen to do. I don’t ask why.” I stared at Fitz, seeing a slight nod.

The men and women who worked at the houses were nice people who had sex for money for their own reasons. They didn’t deserve to have anyone look down on them because of what they chose to do for a living, and I wouldn’t tolerate hearing bullshit about it from anyone. Thankfully, I didn’t hear it from Fitz.

Our food was delivered, but we didn’t talk much while we ate. As I expected, the food was delicious.

After we finished, it was awkward again, so I broke the silence. “You, uh, you wanna get dessert?”

Fitz had the whole meal to get a bead on my personality. If he wasn’t interested in anything more, then we’d say goodnight and keep things as landlord/renter. Maybe that was for the best anyway.