Prologue
Jagger Hansen
Fitz Morgan was putting on quite a show for a Monday. Not that my bosses were any better with all the noise coming out of Sparky’s office.
“Sawyer, sugar, I’m sorry, but I’ll be back before you know it.”
I was, though, somewhat jealous that I didn’t have anyone calling me to apologize for going out of town.
Fitz continued, “I’m going home right now to pick up my running shoes. I forgot them. I can’t chase a jumper in my boots. I might take your pillowcase while I’m at it.”
That was sweet. I bet Fitz and his husband tore up the sheets.
“What’s that? Oh yeah, we’re driving down as soon as Monty and Sparky finish their goodbye fuck in Sparky’s office. Hey, meet me at the house for lunch, will ya? I think we’ve got time for a quicky.”
I almost laughed out loud at overhearing him trying to talk his husband into meeting him at home for a nooner.Must be nice.
God knew, I had no game whatsoever when it came to meeting guys. Fitz Morgan, my usual partner on bail recovery jobs, was worse than me. How he caught Sawyer Abbott and got the guy to marry him was a mystery to everyone.
Sparky’s door opened, and not for the first time, Sparky came out tucking in his shirt while Monty was zipping his tactical pants. Everyone in the office knew that when those two were away from each other, Sparky’s mood turned to shit. I wasn’t looking forward to it.
“Are we ready to go?” Monty stepped into the swamp, as we called the large open room where we all worked, and headed to his desk near Hardy’s office, glancing over his shoulder toward Fitz, who sat across from me.
“I gotta run home real quick, but I’ll be back. I don’t have the luxury of using an office to have a goodbye fuck. Gimme an hour, and I’ll be ready to go.” Fitz opened the bottom drawer of his desk and grabbed his Glock 22, shoving it into the holster before he clipped the leather to his belt.
He glanced at me. “I’ll see you in a week. Don’t get yourself killed while I’m gone, Jagger. Good luck with Sparky.”
Fitz damn near ran out the door, but if I had what he had waiting for him at home, I would certainly do the same. I went back to filling out my expense report for the previous month’s gas consumption and blocked all other thoughts from my mind.
The bell over the door rang, and our resident loose cannons strolled into the office.
“Dude, that’s more of that conspiracy shit you constantly stream. Those podcasters and true-crime nuts need to be locked up.”
I glanced up to watch Gree and Keats, who were eternally debating anything and everything. It was hard not to laughat some of their antics, but I wasn’t one to comment on conversations in which I hadn’t been invited to participate. My mother taught me that.
“I’m telling you, dumbass, MLK Jr. did not have a hand in killing JFK. If that were the case, we’d have heard about it a long time ago.” Greeley sounded like the voice of sanity between the two of them.
And then he opened his mouth again… “It was Marilyn Monroe’s boyfriend. The Italian mob guy. He ordered the hit because he was jealous of JFK fuckin’ his gal in the Oval Office.”
The two of them went into the kitchen to get coffee, and I just rolled my eyes. They were close. It was easy to see the affection between them, but they sometimes had knockdown, drag-out fights that seemed like they could be friendship-ending.
I didn’t know if they were former lovers or lifelong friends, but the ease with which they went from pissed off to cracking jokes was envious. Hard feelings seemed to evaporate between them, which was something I’d never experienced.
There was one man who had taken up rent-free residence in my brain about eighteen months ago. He was gorgeous and charming. Unfortunately, the timing between us had been off. What I knew about him could be put on the head of a pin, but thoughts of him had stuck with me.
I left the governor’s team not long after I started, and I’d known in my heart that I was leaving the possibility of something great behind. If anyone wondered why I was a moody bastard most of the time, two words came to mind…
Missed opportunities.
Chapter One
Bailey Gregory
“You jackass. I’ve told you time and again that none of this is your business. You need to leave this alone. You need to let me handle things my own way! Why do you think I didn’t tell you about this?”
I stared at my twin brother. Was he out of his mind? Did he think I would let anyone threaten him?
Thomas Bradley Gregory was the governor of Nevada, and he was being blackmailed because he was gay, married to a woman, and had made a bad choice for a male fuckbuddy.
