Page 76 of Givin' Me Fitz!
“Good morning. I’m Fitz Morgan, a fugitive recovery agent from Las Vegas. You took my Glock 22 into custody when there was the shooting—”
He interrupted. “The shooting of that gangbanger and the retired LA cop. How are you, Mr. Morgan. I had you on my call sheet for today. Great minds think alike.”
I didn’t know anything about that, so I chuckled. “Sure. Is my gun cleared? Can I come pick it up?”
“Yes, it’s back from ballistics in Carson City. You’re welcome to pick it up anytime. I’ll be here until four this afternoon.” I glanced at the clock to see it was just ten, so I decided to go now.
“I’ll be there in an hour. Thanks, Officer.” I hung up and shoved my phone in my pocket as I headed to Sparky’s office to tell him I needed to run an errand. It was then I remembered I didn’t have my truck, Sawyer did. I had no idea where it was or what he was doing. That thought formed a knot in my gut.
I sighed and knocked on the doorframe. Sparky was going through the logbook he kept for bond refunds to match it against the computer log that Denise kept. Some men had a hard time letting go of pen and paper.
“I was going to tell you that I needed to run an errand, but I just remembered I don’t have my truck. I need to go to Mesquite to pick up my gun from that murder scene I was at last week.”
“Yeah, uh, come in and have a seat. No, wait.” He glanced out the window of his office. “How about I give you a ride to Mesquite, and we have a little talk on the way.”
I swallowed. This was the hard-assed bail bondsman I’d had glimpses of in my short time working at Sparks Bail Bonds. I didn’t want to get on his wrong side, so I nodded.
I was older than Sparky by five years, heavier than him by at least twenty-five pounds, and taller than him by half a foot. Monty, his husband, dwarfed me in every way. Jesse Sparks, however, was more intimidating than Monty and me, put together.
“Uh, sure. I’ll grab a couple of bottles of water and meet you at the trap truck.” I didn’t wait for his response. I hurried to the kitchen, grabbed the water, and went outside through the back door.
I got into the truck where Sparky was already waiting, the fast fucker. He started the ignition, pulled out onto South Rainbow, and headed toward the highway. We had about an hour and a half together in the cab of that old truck, and for the first ten minutes, we said nothing. It was unnerving.
Once we were on the highway, Sparky glanced at me. “You’re not going to the hangin’ tree, Fitz.”
I laughed. “You scare the shit outta me sometimes. I guess you wanna know the background on that bullshit I dropped on your doorstep this morning?”
“That’s a start.”
“You know Sawyer is the president of the Pahrump Steel Cowboys. You were involved in that shit that happened with Giuseppe Torrente and his wife being kidnapped. Dallas enlisted your help in saving the couple.”
Sparky nodded.
“Well, it seems that even though his father retired and the members voted Sawyer into the presidency, his father never stopped manipulating things behind the scenes. According to Sawyer, his father instigated the robbery at Tumbleweeds Dispensary a few weeks ago with some of the older members of the Cowboys.”
Sparky moved into the right lane, but he didn’t slow down. “Betrayal is a horrible thing. It’s soul crushing. How’s that kid involved?”
“TJ works at one of the brothels the club owns in Pahrump. He’s also an MMA fighter, and he’s supposed to fight tomorrow night. It’s his first sanctioned fight in the MMA world, and it’s rigged. Sawyer was planning to make a bet on the fight to earn the money back that the Scorpions stole from the dispensary, but he found out his father was pulling the strings, unbeknownst to Sawyer.
“At the time you were all dealing with the Corsicans and the Scorpions, Keller Abbott made a deal with the Scorpions that if they didn’t kill Sawyer, the Cowboys would turn over their turf to the Scorpions, and they’d all merge into the Scorpions.” The idea of what Keller had done to Sawyer by undermining him made me so angry I was biting out the words.
“Does Sawyer have the allegiance of enough of his club members to fight his father?” It was a damn good question, but not one I could answer.
“I’m not sure. Hell, at this point, I’m not sure if Sawyer knows the answer himself.”
Sparky nodded. “I don’t make a habit of getting involved in shit like this. It’s not a good look if one of my bounty hunters goes to jail for doing illegal shit, you know?” Sparky glanced my way, so I nodded.
“Is there a chance Sawyer would follow his father into the Scorpions?”
“No. He’s been working damn hard to clean up the Cowboys. Getting them into legitimate businesses has been his goal, and he’s been successful at it. They have the two brothels in Pahrump and the dispensary here in Vegas. He's talked about sectioning off some of the land the Cowboys have for their compound and making minibike and dune buggy tracks for tourists. They had enough money in their savings until the robbery, and they had to change cannabis suppliers to be able to reopen.”
I went on to explain to him about Ricky Marlow and Keller Abbott setting everything up to take down the Cowboys so the Scorpions can take over their territory, and lastly, I explained and about the fight. We were taking the exit for Mesquite by the time I was done. I was fucking exhausted by just telling the story.
“Okay. Let me think about all this. Let’s pick up your gun and then stop and get something to eat on the way back,” Sparky said.
We pulled into the parking lot of the Mesquite Police Department. It must have been equipment cleaning day because all the trucks, vans, and armored vehicles were out of the multiple garages on the property and on the parking lot.
“You got your badge?” Sparky looped the chain around his neck. I reached into my back pocket and pulled mine out, mirroring his actions.
