Bailey stared at me a moment before sighing. “I didn’t ask him, but I wouldn’t take the bet that he was alone.”
I nearly dropped my cup mid-sip. “He’d chance having Boyd over to the condo?”
“A man thinking with his dick doesn’t apply logic or reason to situations. Thomas claims he didn’t go to the lake house because he didn’t want to draw too much attention from his staff to the fact that he and Lindsey aren’t getting along these days. He’s afraid someone is already talking to the press about what’s been happening between them: the shouting matches, the slamming doors, and the two of them not eating meals together like they usually do.
“He’s here to moderate a meeting between small business owners and the city officials regarding the upcoming Formula One race and how it affects mom-and-pop businesses along The Strip. The pre-race prep and the events around the race cut deeply into profits, and the business owners want assurances that the sponsors and the city will make up the projected losses. The meeting is tomorrow afternoon at the Convention Center, followed by a reception thrown by the mayor at the Intercontinental Casino and Resort.”
Bailey picked up his cup and took a few gulps from it before the server returned for refills. We gave our breakfast orders, and she left without comment.
“Are you going to see him this evening?”
“I need to go talk to him. Will you go with me?” The pleading tone in Bailey’s voice caused my gut to churn. He sounded so vulnerable due to his desire to keep his brother’s governorship from scandal.
I sucked in a deep breath, hoping to reassure him. “I love you, Bailey. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
He reached across the table and took my hand. “I love you too, Jagger. Thank you for being supportive. I’ve gotta help Thomas because I don’t think he’s in a place to help himself.”
The circumstances of our professions of love weren’t ideal, but I wasn’t sorry we’d both said the words. It was my job as hispartner to look out for him, and I’d do it with everything inside me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bailey
When we drove by the entrance gate to the Coronado Trails condominium community, there was a horde of cameras and television vans parked on both sides of the street. The gate was closed, so they couldn’t get in, but I was guessing the other entrance on Sunset was equally as chaotic.
Coronado Trails was where the governor’s Las Vegas residence was located. I’d never been there, but I was sure it was nearly as luxurious as the mansion in Carson City.
“We’re going to have to sneak in somehow.” I glanced around for somewhere to park Jagger’s truck.
The complex was in the middle of residential neighborhoods, and I was sure Thomas was upset that he’d brought such bedlam with him to the area. It was never his intention, I knew in my gut, but of late, he hadn’t been thinking rationally. Dick-blindness was a hell of an affliction.
“How do you think we can sneak in? Is there another entrance?” Jagger appeared skeptical that we’d ever see the inside of the community, but I was a man on a mission.
I pulled down Sagebrush Way, a street just behind the fenced complex of Coronado Trails. There was a For Sale sign halfway down the block, so I parked at the curb in front of the tan stucco house. I was sure there wouldn’t be a scheduled open house on a Thursday evening.
“Maybe call Rupert and ask if there’s some way for them to get you in? I mean, short of trespassing by crawling through someone’s yard and climbing the fence. I don’t need to bail you out again.” The smirk on Jagger’s face was sexy.
“Heaven forbid the governor’s brother get arrested again.” I rolled my eyes at the field day the press would have with that disaster.
“Well, you were smart enough to use an alias, Dickie Normous.”
We both laughed at the stupid name I’d used to create the fake ID I’d used for doing shit that would probably get me on the wrong side of the law. I prayed that any blowback from my actions wouldn’t reach my brother.
My arrest in Vegas brought Jagger and me back to each other, so I’d never regret it. It was more than I ever thought I’d get.
“Hey, Dickie Normous is a creative choice. Let me call the security team.” I grabbed my phone from the console and found Rupert’s number.
He answered on the second ring. “Mr. Gregory. What can I do for you?”
“There are hordes of press at the front gate, and I’m assuming it’s the same at the Sunset gate. I’m supposed to meet with Thomas. Any suggestions for how I get in?” It was difficult to keep sarcasm from my tone.
Rupert chuckled. “Yeah, it was hard as hell to get the governor in here without a cavalcade of press, but sure. We’ll get you in. Tell me where you are, and I’ll send a car.”
I told him the address of the house where we’d parked and hung up. “They’re going to come get us.”
Jagger and I stepped out of the truck, which had my bike wedged in the back of the extended bed, locked it, and waited. Ten minutes later, a Nevada State Patrol cruiser stopped next to us, and we slid into the back seat.
“Sorry about this, Mr. Gregory. We’re still trying to find out how the governor’s residence here in Vegas became public knowledge. We chose this community because it has nothing of note to draw attention to it. Someone had to leak it.”
