Chapter Twenty-Three
Bailey
As I stood in the doorway of Sparky’s office, I noticed Garcia was handcuffed to the large ergonomic desk chair. “I’ll stay with him so he doesn’t get any bright ideas about going out the window.” Wasn’t I the team player?
“No talking,” Spitzer snapped before he and Morgan stepped out of the office. I closed the door and turned the lock, figuring I didn’t have much time with Garcia.
I sneered at the rat bastard. “You’re causing a lot of fucking trouble, aren’t you? Are you a Víbora Cartel member or do you ride with the Viper Kings?”
The motherfucker smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
His dark curly hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and he had a scar on his right cheek. I didn’t find him attractive, but I was guessing a lot of women and men would.
“I’m sorry your old lady was killed. Was it you or Pedro who did the deed? Did you know she was pregnant before you gave her a hot shot?”
“Fuck if she was. Mar—that’s a fishing trip I ain’t taking, puta. Who the fuck are you?” Garcia looked worried, so I smirked at him, keeping my mouth shut.
Finally, he broke. “You’re a fucking Fed, ain’t ya? I shoulda known that the Boy Scout out there couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He can’t fucking offer me anything now that you’re involved, and I’m not talking until I know my ass is safe from the Viper Kings.”
I chuckled. “So you’re actually a cartel man? How would Pedro feel if he knew you knocked up his old lady?”
He hissed. “She wasn’t shit to me except a mule. She was still Pedro’s property. He was pissed that she botched a job by getting arrested, but he wouldn’t kill the mother of his child.”
“Who would?” I watched him closely as he stared into space.
“Maria lived with some puta here in Vegas… Paloma. Pedro was fucking her behind Maria’s back. If Maria was pregnant again, maybe his side chick decided to take her out. I know nothing about the ways of jealous women.”
I chuckled. “How about jealous men? Does the Víbora Cartel know you bat for the other team?”
“Hijo de puta. No sabes de lo que estás hablando.” You son of a bitch. You don't know what you're talking about.
“Don’t I, amigo? You beat the hell out of Danny Bolls to the point you killed him. Maybe you thought he was Boyd Newton, and you were jealous of the relationship between him and the governor? ?Eso fue lo que pasó, Marcelo?” Is that what happened, Marcelo?
“Fuck you. I want a lawyer.”
I chuckled. “You’re not under arrest. Right now, you have no protection from anyone. I also have something I bet belongs to you. Does a travel golf bag ring a bell?”
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You’ve got our shit! You’re a dead man. If the cartel doesn’t get you, the Kings will.”
Before I could respond, the door was unlocked, and Spitzer stepped in. “You get what you wanted?” He was carrying the duffel bag, which I was guessing Jagger had given him as evidence.
I chuckled. “You need to find Maria’s roommate, Paloma. Seems she was fucking around with Pedro Vega too. Maybe she was jealous when she found out Maria was pregnant with Pedro’s baby again? Garcia said Paloma might have killed Maria and her baby.”
Spitzer nodded, dropping the bag in the corner of the room and squatting to look inside before he whistled. “What have we here?”
“By the way, this guy has the hots for Boyd Newton.” I heard Garcia sputtering his disagreement.
I laughed. “I’m guessing he hit on Danny Bolls by mistake, thinking he was Boyd, probably at Glory Hole Studios.
I’d bet Danny turned him down, and Garcia didn’t like it.
When he figured out his mistake of hitting on the wrong guy, I’m guessing he beat Danny to death to keep him from telling anyone what happened.
He couldn’t leave the body at the studio, so he dumped Bolls at his apartment.
It’s merely a theory, but based on his reaction when I suggested he liked boys instead of girls, you might want to check it out.
“Maria was looking for a key in that Chimi bag she shoplifted. It went to a locker at the bus station where she was supposed to stash the golf bag. For some reason, the routine was changing. Instead of Maria giving the bag to Paloma, it was going to be stashed in a locker at the bus station. Sounds like someone was being cut out for some reason. That information came from a confidential witness, and the rest of it is above my pay grade.”
I headed out of the office and stopped in the swamp to wait for Jagger, who was talking to Spitzer for a moment. When he finished, he stopped next to me. “Ready?”
I couldn’t hold back the one thing that was driving me crazy. “What’s in the damn bag?” I asked. I could tell Jagger had looked and was dying to tell.
Jagger chuckled. “Lots of drugs and a list of names that I assume are distribution sources. Seems someone likes to keep track of their shit.”
Spitzer came out of the office with the pages and walked over to Jagger, holding them out. He pointed to a name on the list, his face very glum. Jagger raised his eyebrows. “Holy shit.”
I stepped closer and stared at the piece of paper Spitzer was holding with rubber gloves. I looked over Jagger’s shoulder, catching my breath.
Shit, indeed.
Whether I liked it or not, I was on my way back to my brother’s Vegas condo, this time with a police escort. Jagger was tailing Spitzer, who had called for backup. They were meeting us at Coronado Trails, blocking the Sunset entrance to keep anyone from leaving in a hurry.
I was told not to call Thomas, so it wouldn’t tip off anyone on his staff. In my gut, it felt as if I were betraying my brother. I was sure Thomas wouldn’t believe me, even if I called to warn him.
The guard stepped out of the shack and approached Spitzer’s unmarked car.
Jagger rolled down the truck window to see if he could hear what was being said.
Spitzer handed his badge out the window of his car, and the guard studied it before handing it back.
He waved Spitzer through as the gate opened.
We followed Spitzer with a simple wave at the guard. The patrol car pulled in behind us and stopped just inside the gate. The gate closed, and after it was secure, the other officers stepped aside and allowed the press to get closer. Not surprisingly, they went into a feeding frenzy.
Before Jagger and I got out of the car, I pulled him to lean over the console. “Stay down, please. I love you, and I have a bad feeling this is going to be fucked up. I don’t want you dodging bullets.”
He sighed. “I agree. Same for you. Stay down.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips over mine. God, I loved the man.
To say Spitzer was excited to get things going on solving the case was an understatement, which was why he didn’t stop us from going along with him to make the arrest. Between the information Garcia blabbed to save his own ass and the golf bag full of drugs, Spitzer was like a kid on Christmas morning.
Before we left Sparks Bail Bonds, Spitzer phoned the Carson City Police—not the Nevada State Patrol—and asked them to take Lindsey into protective custody, though we still didn’t know if she had a part in everything that had gone down.
I was sure my brother would throw a colossal fit when he heard about it, but at least he was still alive.
Spitzer walked over to us. “This won’t be a pleasant visit, and I want no misplaced anger taken out on civilians. Stay here and let us do our job.”
Bailey laughed. “My brother isn’t a civilian, and he’s in as much danger as anyone. I’m not going to let anything happen to him. Are we sure he’s still in there?”
“We have a man inside, undercover. When Boyd confessed to me that he’d been in a sexual relationship with the governor at the time he agreed to be my snitch, I didn’t want to exploit him or assume the governor was involved as well.
I needed more proof, so I had a detective assigned to the governor’s Dignitary Protection Team. Detective Anthony Gallows.
“He easily slid into all the protocols for the Nevada State Patrol, so he fit in seamlessly to become another informant for me. He’s my eyes and ears on Boyd Newton when Newton’s with the governor. He’ll keep the governor from becoming collateral damage.”
Maybe that should make me feel better, but it didn’t. “He’d better be good.”
Jagger placed his left arm around the small of my back as he moved me beside the truck to wait for shit to kick off. The situation was as bad as anything I’d faced in combat.
I’d learned a lesson the hard way when I was in the infantry. When someone had nothing to lose and decided to become the source of destruction, they didn’t care who they took with them.
Cops quickly surrounded the building as Spitzer and a group of police officers breached the entrance and hurried through the lobby. The residents were rushed out the doors with their hands up, being herded by police officers to a safe distance away from the building.
My heart pounded as I waited for any indication that my brother was safe and Spitzer was escorting the two-faced son of a bitch who had betrayed Thomas from the beginning. The next thing I heard was gunshots before the cops sprang into action.
The gate slid open, and an ambulance that was out of sight of Thomas’s condo rolled in front of the building but waited for the officers to signal it was okay to move forward. The longer it sat unmoving, the more worried I became.
Suddenly, the second ambulance sped forward, and paramedics and EMTs got out, grabbed gurneys, and rushed into the building. Spitzer wasn’t there to ask what the fuck was going on, and the other cops in front of the building were hiding behind the doors of their squad cars.
The front doors opened, and Lieutenant Harvey Rupert stepped out, using my brother, Thomas, as a human shield. Rupert’s Glock 22 was poised at Thomas’s right temple, and his expression gave away the fact that he’d pull the trigger without a second thought.
Everyone froze, waiting for Rupert’s next move.
I dropped to the asphalt and pulled my Glock, checking the mag and flipping off the safety. I tugged on Jagger’s jeans to get his attention.
When he finally looked down at me, he wasn’t happy. “What the fuck, Bailey?”
“I’m going around the building to come in through the back door. Keep Rupert talking. Spitzer is somewhere inside, and he's likely shot since he’s not coming out. We need to put an end to this shit before someone dies.
“I love you, and I’ll come back to you. Keep Rupert occupied, will you? If he takes the gun off Thomas, shoot that fucker. I’ve gotta end this before I lose my brother.”
Thankfully, Jagger knew how important Thomas was to me, so he nodded and pulled his Sig from behind his waist. He was more familiar with Rupert than I was. He’d know the buttons to push so I could get behind Rupert and get a shot off to make sure Thomas wasn’t killed.