Boyd was attending as an escort for one of the rich old widows with a big checkbook. Of course my brother was stupid enough to fall for the guy. Their affair had trouble written all over it when he finally admitted it, but Thomas was a good man, even if he had a problem keeping his dick in his pants.
Thomas cleared his throat, bringing us back to the matter at hand. “No, Bailey. Stay away from him. I’m an idiot for starting up with him in the first place.
“When the story breaks, I’ll quietly resign from the governor’s office and take whatever repercussions come my way. I’ll make Lindsey divorce me, and I’ll go into hiding for a while. I’ll still have my law license, and I can set up a private practice back East near Mother. Or maybe she’ll let me help with the Foundation.”
I shook my head at the stubborn ass. “Look, give me a few weeks, Thomas. I’m a private investigator. I can find him, and we can put this all behind you so you can continue to be the governor, and maybe one day, the president, just like the old man expected.”
Thomas stared at me as if he wanted to smack me. “Six minutes, Bailey. Six minutes. You can’t tell me what to do just because of six minutes.”
I chuckled. I was six minutes older than Thomas, and he couldn’t forget it. Hell, I wouldn’t let him. For the rest of my life, I was going to rub being the older, bigger brother in his face, and he always knew it.
My twin brother had an amazing political mind, and I was beyond fucking proud of him. He and Lindsey were a power couple in Nevada politics. He was the brains in the Gregory family.
I, however, was the unruly brawn.
After twenty years of being an infantryman in Uncle Sam’s Army, I’d basically walked around the world, so I decided to stop living in the suffocating closet I’d constructed for myself. I was out, proud, and single. To say I was ready to mingle was an understatement.
Adjusting to civilian life had been no walk in the park, but I’d figured out pretty quickly that money ran like water through my fingers because of my newly adopted playboy lifestyle, so a job was necessary.
I’d always loved solving mysteries—thank you, Hardy Boys—so I took an online course that taught me nothing I didn’t already know, applied for a private investigator’s license and concealed carry permit, and after I passed the exam, I hung out my shingle.
I’d become a fucking pro at tracking down cheating spouses. Thomas’s situation wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to encountering. It happened a hell of a lot more than most folks expected.
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to Nevada in a long time, Thomas. I won’t let you get screwed because you’re being blackmailed about something stupid like who you fuck, and I damn well won’t allow you to resign from an office you were born to hold.”
My brother hung his head. “I love you, Bailey. Please, don’t get hurt.” He hugged me, which was something our mother insisted we do when we had any kind of disagreement growing up.
With his permission to track the bastard, I grabbed my stuff to leave. “You watch your six, little brother. He might get pissyabout what I’ve done or plan to do, so make sure your security guys are paying attention.”
That night, I went back to my apartment in Carson City and packed for a road trip south. Look out, Vegas… Here I come.
Chapter Two
Jagger Hansen
“Jagger!”
I looked over my shoulder to see Jesse Sparks, the co-owner of Sparks Bail Bonds and my boss.
He stood near his office door with his desk phone receiver cradled between his ear and shoulder as he fiercely scribbled something on a piece of paper. When he saw he had my attention, he motioned for me to come into his office. I grabbed a pad and pen and made my way over.
“Yes, Governor Gregory. We’ll get on it. Thank you for calling.” Sparky hung up and sat down at his computer, pecking on the keyboard as he kept glancing from the screen to the letters on the keys. My guess was Sparky had skipped Typing 101 in high school.
“Yeah, Sparky.” I walked into his office.
Jesse “Sparky” Sparks was a good man, as was his husband and business partner, Ryan Montgomery. Ryan was a former member of the military, though he didn’t talk about it around me.
Before moving to Vegas, Sparky had been a firefighter and fire inspector in Florida. It was speculated that he left the job under less-than-desirable circumstances, though I never had the balls to ask about it. Wasn’t my business.
According to the office grapevine, Ryan—or Monty as everyone called him—had been in love with Sparky for quite a while, but Sparky, who was previously married to a woman and had a grown son, ended up falling for Ryan. Watching the two of them together was a great example of the surprising twists and turns life could take.
“I need you to make a bail run with me. I’ll finish typing this up and meet you by the trap truck. Tell Denise to look for an email from Clark County Detention Center and print off the papers for us. Thanks.”
My current reality was still an adjustment. For twenty years of my life, I had worked as a cop of one kind or another. Being a bail recovery agent—or a bounty hunter—was a left turn from being a cop, though there were still rules to follow. That was where I excelled.
I liked the job and was learning from the best in the business. Unfortunately, the nerves were starting to build as I stood from my chair. It was the same every time I did a run with Sparky.
I liked the guy, but he was hard to read. He barely had any discernible sense of humor, or none I’d detected. The only people who seemed to make him smile were his husband and son.
