Chapter Nineteen
Bailey
When we returned to the kitchen to get some food that morning, I offered to tell Jagger what happened in Carson City.
Jagger nodded as he put the plate of bacon in the microwave for twenty seconds to heat it up.
“How about I make some eggs, and we have breakfast sandwiches on those biscuits while we talk this through. You help me understand the stuff with the governor, and I’ll help you understand the stuff with Rita Ramirez. ”
I grinned and nodded because I hadn’t had a better offer in a very long time. Jagger pulled a skillet from a lower cabinet and went to work, with a broad smile on his face. I loved seeing it.
“Since we’re in Vegas, let’s start with Rita Ramirez.
I’d like to go check on her this afternoon, if you’d come along.
I just have a gut feeling this shit with the Viper Kings isn’t over.
You know, Rita’s just a little old lady, and I feel like there’s nobody around to watch out for her.
I’d also like to know if she’s heard what’s going on with Ruiz.
That poor kid must be scared to death. He’s just a little boy. ” Jagger hung his head.
At that point, it seemed as if he were trying to justify caring for someone he perceived to be in distress. It wasn’t necessary. I knew the man well enough to know something of the sort would tear him apart.
Jagger had a big heart, and I would support him wherever he wanted to go. He was an amazing leader, and I knew he would defend those in harm’s way—like Rita Ramirez.
On the ride out, I told him about the shitshow in Carson City with Lindsey, but I agreed with Jagger…one problem at a time.
Jagger and I sat in his truck down the block from Rita Ramirez’s house, the two of us watching her load a U-Haul truck by herself.
Her great-nephew had been kidnapped by his father and taken to Mexico.
Why was the woman loading everything she owned into a rental vehicle, and where was she going?
Had she been threatened and was scared to say?
“So, where’s she going?” I asked Jagger as I stared into the binoculars, watching Rita carry out boxes to load into the truck.
My guy chuckled. “I’m guessing she’s moving somewhere else since members of the cartel and the Viper Kings now know where she lives. I wonder if Rita was really devoted to her niece as she claimed, or did she sell out Maria? We never did an in-depth background check on her, as far as I know.”
That was a little troubling to me. “So, you just bail out strangers and don’t do background checks?” It was a pompous thing to say, but it seemed as if the bond agents gave their clients blind trust, and really? How could they be comfortable doing that?
“We get the information from the court when we bail someone out. We don’t conduct any additional background checks beyond what Hardy provides regarding the person posting the bond. What more do you think we need?”
I shrugged, out of my element. In the military, we received a lot of information on our targets.
“I’d say a family tree could be helpful, but what do I know? I’m a hack private dick. Most of my cases are insurance fraud, though I did investigate a cheating husband once. Ignore me.”
Jagger chuckled. “Did you catch the husband dipping his wick where he wasn’t supposed to?”
I laughed and nodded, remembering the woman losing her shit when I gave her the pictures of her husband in a private lakeside cabana, cozying up to some woman at Secret Cove Nude Beach on the shore of Lake Tahoe.
Turns out, it was the client’s assistant. I could tell my client would take them both to the cleaners. I was glad I wasn’t the one in her crosshairs.
“Client was a lawyer and the husband was doin’ her assistant. I’d bet that made for an uncomfortable working relationship. Anyway, what if we just ask Ms. Ramirez where she’s going?” Seemed easier than just sitting in the truck and speculating.
As the two of us were getting out of the truck, a familiar roar had me turning to look down the street. Motoring toward us were two of the sickest-looking custom Harley Low Riders I’d ever seen, and they were turning onto Rita’s street.
“Fucking hell,” I whispered before I hurried to the driver’s side and jerked Jagger down with me. I didn’t know if they were stopping or just driving by, but I was ninety-nine percent sure they were strapped and ready to fight.
“Let’s see if they keep going and it’s a coincidence, or if they’re here to cause trouble.” I inched to the end of the truck bed and peeked around the corner.
The bikes turned into Rita’s driveway and stopped on the front lawn.
One of the men got off his bike while the other guy stayed put.
They were both wearing Viper Kings cuts, and the tanks had custom Viper heads wearing crowns over a red-and-purple background that matched the colors on the patch on the back of the cuts. There was no doubt who they were.
“This is definitely not a coincidence.” I turned to see Jagger’s scowl as he handed me the binoculars. I put them up to my eyes to see the guy still sitting on the bike reach into the right saddle bag, open the lid, and pull out a large sack before placing it on his lap.
Guy Number One talked to Rita for a moment before he motioned for Guy Number Two to join them inside the house. The second guy dismounted his bike and dropped the bag. When he bent to pick it up, I saw a flash of silver tucked into the back of his pants.
“Shit! He’s got a gun.”
Fitz reached for his phone. “Fucking hell. It’s in the car. You got yours?”
I reached into my back pocket and slid it out, handing it to him. Fitz quickly tapped in a number, and as it was ringing, we heard two gunshots.
I started to run, but Jagger grabbed my arm and hauled me back. The two bikers rushed out with the bag and started their bikes, peeling out of the yard.
Fitz ended the call before it was answered, pulling up the camera app and shooting their escape. He then called 9-1-1 again.
“What’s your emergency?”
“I heard gunshots fired at…” Jagger went on to give the dispatcher the address of Rita Rameriz’s home and his name. After he hung up, he turned to me. “We can give the footage to whoever shows up.” I nodded and took my phone to wait.
We stayed away from the house because no fucking way did we want to be blamed for whatever had happened inside. Since Rita wasn’t coming out, we both knew it wasn’t good.
The sheriff’s deputies showed up about thirty minutes later. After we gave our statements regarding why we were there and what we saw, we were allowed to leave. They took our information for any follow-up questions.
Deputy Lance Garrett was there once again, asking questions the same as he’d done when Maria died.
He was as unconcerned about the death of Rita Ramirez as he’d been about Maria, treating both incidents with as much professionalism as if someone ran over a squirrel.
I had a feeling he’d missed the diversity and inclusion seminars most precincts required of their officers who dealt with the public.
When we were back in the truck, Jagger grabbed his phone from the console and dialed, putting it on speaker.
“Spitzer.”
I nodded. It was a good idea to notify Spitzer of what had just happened since he was the detective looking to nail the Viper Kings and the Víbora Cartel.
“Hey, Detective Spitzer, it’s Jagger Hansen. There’s something going on you should know about. Can you meet me at Sparks Bail Bonds? I’ve got a video I want to explain to you.”
“Sure. Gimme thirty.”
The call ended, and Jagger’s concerned eyes met mine. “I hope this gives them what they need to catch these bastards.”
Oh, I agreed a thousand percent. Spitzer arrived at Jagger’s office twenty minutes after we got there.
“You want coffee?” Jagger asked. I could tell he wasn’t really excited about meeting with the detective, but if what we’d witnessed helped the guy, then it wouldn’t be wasted time.
“I’m fine right now. I was in at seven, so I have five cups under my belt. Tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“Rita Ramirez was murdered today. I caught the suspects on my phone.” Jagger turned his laptop to the detective and showed Spitzer the video.
“So they showed up at her house and went inside? You didn’t get the actual shooting.”
I couldn’t hold my tongue. “Are you fucking kidding me? He’s got the two of them leaving the scene of a crime where we heard two gunshots.
The license plates on the custom bikes can easily be seen in the video, and the way they left—you’ve got to be fucking kidding me that you don’t think this is helpful to your case against the cartel and the MCs.
“The same Clark County deputy came out to confirm the woman was dead and did nothing else, Spitzer. Deputy Lance Garrett. He’s the guy who showed up when Maria died.”
Spitzer’s stare moved between Jagger and me, as if he were waiting for us to continue trying to convince him that the footage Jagger had shown him was relevant. It pissed me off immediately.
“Hey, if you don’t believe us, you’re welcome to leave. We’re trying to be good guys, but if you don’t want to listen to what we told you—”
“Whoa, guys. I didn’t say that. I have to think like a defense attorney on occasion, and if you’re going to be my star witnesses when I take down the Viper Kings and the Víbora, I need to know where your pain points are.” Spitzer smirked at us, the prick.
I chuckled. “Pain points? Like when someone shows up from the cartel or the MC and shoots at us? That’s a pain point you want to know about, Detective?”
Spitzer laughed. “You can defend yourselves, boys. What I wanna know is why they killed Rita Ramirez.”
As much as I wanted to know the truth of the matter, I held his gaze. “And that’s your job, right, Detective?”
Jagger grinned. “I’ll send this to you, but we’re out after that. We can’t do your job for you, Spitzer.”
The handsome detective laughed. “I do appreciate the free help. If something else crosses your path, I’d appreciate a call.”
Spitzer stood from his chair next to Jagger’s desk. “Where are Keats and Greeley?”
It was an odd question, but I stared at my guy to see what he had to say. “They’re on a hunt. I don’t know more than that. Is there something you want me to relay when they call in?”
Spitzer’s expression gave away nothing. “Just curious. We play in a pool league at a dive bar, and they haven’t been around for a while. I just wondered if they were okay.”
Jagger smiled. “I’m sure they’re fine. I can pass along a message if you’d like.”
Spitzer’s face paled. “Oh, uh, no. I’ll reach out when I know anything. Thanks for the info, guys. I’ll be in touch.”
The cop walked out, and I turned to Jagger. “Any idea what that was about?”
He chuckled. “Nope, but I can’t wait to find out. Let’s go home.”
Home. That word sounded beautiful to my ears. It had been a long time since I’d felt like I had a home.
As I glanced at Jagger Hansen, I knew he was my home.