Page 8 of Givin' Me Fitz!
I stood from my chair, stretching. I was still suffering from the injuries the Corsican Cartel had inflicted on me, and I’d sworn to myself that if any of those motherfuckers ever got out of prison, I’d hunt them down and fucking slit their throats.
“TJ Middleton got picked up last night for felony assault. He beat the fuck out of someone the cops believe was a john who refused to pay for services rendered. He has a courtesan license on file, so I suspect that was how they labeled the guy as a john.”
I exhaled. “And you know this how?”
“Let’s just say our friendly at Clark County caught it and alerted us. TJ was picked up at a hotel on The Old Strip after a neighbor in the next room called the front desk about a disturbance.” Spider took a seat across from my desk, meaning there was far more to the story.
“Okay, where’s TJ now? Was he—orwhywas he—tricking on The Old Strip on a Thursday night? He knows it’s a no-go.”
TJ Middleton was a handsome young guy. He was sexy as hell, and if he’d been anything other than my employee, I’d have made a play for him. He had long brown hair that he pulled back into a bun. His big blue eyes could see into a man’s soul, and he was a moneymaker for the house.
He’d asked for the day off to run some personal errands, according to Florence at the North Woodchips house, but TJ hadn’t mentioned anything to her about going to The Old Strip. That told me he was doing something he shouldn’t have been.
I was disappointed that it looked as though he’d gone against the rules. I’d have to do something to make an example of him so the others didn’t get it in their heads to try the same shit.
According to the laws governing sex workers, if they were away from the brothel for more than twenty-four hours, they were required to be tested before they could return to work. That was an expense I didn’t want, and since we paid for their healthcare, they at least owed it to us to cooperate, or they could leave.
Within the houses, we had everything under control regarding the transaction and the safety of our employees—or so I thought, until Emily Carter’s incident with the truck driver. Anywhere else, aside from the houses, we had no control over what happened with our employees regarding their safety, and in Clark County, sex-for-pay was illegal.
Why the fuck was TJ on The Old Strip tricking in places he shouldn’t have been?
“Where?” I was pissed.
How long had TJ been sneaking away? Was it a “fuck you” to me because he didn’t like working for us? The kid didn’t seem like that kind of guy, but what did I know? I was certainly interested in why.
“He was at the Blue Diamond Casino on Fremont Street. He picked up a key they were holding for him at registration. The room wasn’t his, according to the arrest report. He’s still in Clark County lockup.”
“Do we know the bail amount? Has he called a bondsman yet?”
Spider smiled. “Our friendly said he gave him the number of Sparks Bail Bonds. I’ll call to see if TJ reached out yet.”
Jesse Sparks and I were solid. If TJ had reached out, I was sure Jesse would send someone to get the young guy out as soon as they could.
I nodded. “Call the house and see if anyone knows what the fuck TJ was doing on Fremont.”
I rolled up to Sparks Bail Bonds on South Rainbow Boulevard. Spider had found out that TJ had called them to bail him out very early this morning after his victim was released from the ER, but nobody had reached out for me to fill out paperwork for his bail. I was there to see what was going on.
I stepped off my bike, grabbing the key and taking off my helmet. I walked up to the door and pushed it open, the bell dinging to alert them I was there.
A woman sat at the reception desk, staring at me. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“I’m here to talk to Sparky about one of my employees. I’m Sawyer Abbott.”
“Please, take a seat.”
I nodded and sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs that lined the wall. The place looked as sterile as any waiting room I’d been in. There were guys milling around, but nobody glanced in my direction.
Two men came in through the back door and sat down at desks behind the pony wall that divided the large room. “You are a lying bastard,” the taller one said to the other guy.
The shorter guy laughed loudly. “I’m telling you, bro, she could suck the chrome off a bumper.”
I smirked at the comment. I’d had that experience with both men and women. It was a good time, but I was bored with random hookups. It was funny to think of those encounters in that light—get in, get off, get out—but that was what they were. No personal information was exchanged and rarely was there a repeat performance. There was no possibility of finding a partner in that world. Hell, did I even want one?
I smirked as the two men continued to tease each other. Finally, Jesse Sparks came out of his office. “Sawyer, how are you?”
He stepped forward and shook my hand. “Jesse, good to see you. I wanted to check if one of my employees called you.”
“Come on into my office. You want a coffee or something?”
