Page 58 of Givin' Me Fitz!
I hadn’t told him it would cost me my life, or damn near, to leave the club. If he knew I’d killed Tim Walton’s parents, would he run like hell and rat me out?
I stopped all those random thoughts and stared at my contacts list, touching my father’s number.
“Hey, son.” He answered on the first ring.
“Dad. How’s Mom?”
“Good. She’s on some new meds that seem to be helping a lot. We’ve been going for walks in the mornings since Grandma Abbott moved to the assisted living place. How’s the club?”
I cleared my throat. “Well, things have been better. The dispensary got hit a week ago to the tune of thousands. I suspect Boyd Townsend faked his death, and he and his old lady took off to parts unknown. We’re keeping a low profile because the cops are investigating that shit, and even though we’re letting the cops handle it, I’m not sure how long I can keep the brothers from doing their own investigation, which wouldn’t end well for Boyd or his old lady.”
Dad chuckled. “That’s not surprising. Who do you think did it—robbed the place?”
“It’s got to be the Scorpions with help from Townsend. I’m convinced he roped Hammer into going to the dispensary that day to relieve Ders and Spider because if they’d been there, the robbery would have ended much differently. And now, the Viper Kings are involved. I need your guidance, Dad.”
I went on to explain about the enforcer for the Viper Kings ending up dead at TJ’s grandfather’s house and about the upcoming fight. “I don’t know if the kid can fight. I’ve only heard talk up to this point, but if he could win, we could make up for the money the Scorpions took from us, though I still wanna kick someone’s ass over that. If they get to the kid’s grandfather, the kid will throw the fight, I’m sure. The old man’s all he’s got.” And…
“Son, I’ll come up and meet with the club. Let me get on the phone with some friends. Mom and I will fly up next week. We’ll stay through Thanksgiving, if that’s okay.”
I swallowed. “Dad, that would be great. I’ll put you guys up in a nice hotel. I’ve got Mr. Middleton and his son staying with me, so it would be crowded here.”
In for a penny… in for a pound, as my grandmother liked to say. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet, anyway.”
“Oh, yeah?” His voice sounded far away. “Celine! Sawyer met somebody.” I should have known he’d make a big deal of it, and I knew Mom would go over the top.
“It’s new, Dad. He’s a great guy. I think you and Mom will like him.” I decided not to tell them anything more until after they met Fitz. That way, they could form their own opinions.
Chapter Twenty-One
Fitz
“I say we call him and tell him he won a prize at the Tropical Breeze Casino on the other side of the lake and pick him up when he shows. Tell him he’s got to go to the rewards desk at the casino with his ID. We wait for him there and nab him.” Jagger smirked as though he’d come up with the most brilliant idea in the world.
We were sitting at a restaurant in Lake Tahoe, California. Our jumper, Whitey Crow, had skipped Vegas after being picked up for aggravated assault and drunk and disorderly conduct on The Old Strip. The address he gave for the bond was in Green Springs, Nevada, and when he missed his court date, we went there to find it was an abandoned shack. Hardy checked and found the lot was for sale for five grand if I wanted to buy it. I hung up on the smart-ass!
Thankfully, Hardy put an alert on the credit card Crow used when he paid our fee, and we were notified when the guy withdrew money at a casino in Lake Tahoe on the Nevada side. We’d rented a hotel suite, which was way overpriced because in the middle of November, ski season was going strong.
Sparky agreed to the exorbitant room expenses because he wanted his forty grand returned, and we were trying to come up with a trap to catch the guy.
Leo and Digs were sitting across from Jagger and me, and the three of us thought Jagger was joking with his little bait-and-switch proposition until he didn’t laugh with us at his half-assed idea.
Digs rested his hands on the table and stared at Jagger. “How will we get the casino to let us arrest him inside? It’s private property.” Leo smirked at Digs’ question.
I turned to my “partner” and shook my head. “I can tell you for a fact that the casinos in the area aren’t fond of cooperating with law enforcement, much less quasi-law enforcement like us. Patrons don’t like to see anyone getting handcuffed across from the craps tables.”
I picked up a piece of wheat toast and dipped it in my runny egg yolk. I was frustrated beyond compare with this bullshit of being led around by our noses by some jackass who didn’t know how to handle his liquor and got into a fight with a tourist for putting his hand on the guy’s wife’s ass at the roulette table. It was a shame the young man didn’t put him in the hospital—or that the judge hadn’t ordered a GPS tracker so we could find him without all this headache.
Meanwhile, the guy I loved was up to his beautiful neck in a mountain of horseshit, and here I was in a ski resort with three numbskulls looking for a moron.
“Well, anyone else got anything better?” Jagger picked up the bacon fat that Digs had pulled off his six pieces of bacon and ate it without a thought.
“You’re eating the fat? Dude, that’s gross.” Digs pushed his plate away.
“Seriously? What do you think pork belly is?” Jagger offered a shit-eating grin and picked up another piece, munching away.
I stared out the large window of the diner where we were eating breakfast just down the street from the Nevada line. I saw a tan Honda pull up outside and park on the street, leaving the flashers on to keep from paying at the meter.
When the guy walked into the restaurant, he was wearing a red shirt and hat as he approached the counter, placing a large red insulated bag on the chair next to the end and flipping open the top. The server brought over several carryout containers and handed them to the driver, which sparked something in my memory.
