Page 7 of Enticing the Fixer

Leo

“Man, I’m glad you’re in town. I could use your help.” Truman, my brother’s boss, and friend, hands me a drink. Everyone calls him Truman. I don’t even know what his first name is. They did time in the Navy together, and now, Jagger works for Truman at his security company.

“Are you working on the case Jagger called me about?”

“Yes, I am, but I’ve got something else we need to work on first. When this one’s wrapped up, we can focus on the one Jagger called you about.”

“Sounds good. What’s up?”

“Jagger tells me you’re in town laying low, blending into the woodwork.”

“That’s the intent.” I run my thumbnail over the edge of the label. Every muscle in my body aches from unpacking boxes; and I have no idea where anything is. Somewhere in my one-story, two-bedroom shack is my shave kit. If I don’t find it soon, I’m growing a beard. I run a hand over my 5 o’clock shadow. “I’ve had enough of the limelight.”

“I don’t blame you.” He gives me an,I feel sorry for you, but I’m glad I’m not in your shoeslook. I don’t blame him. Who wants a selfish, cold-hearted bitch to video you having sex and upload it to a social media platform to gain followers? Yeah, I didn’t, either.

“It’s fine.” I raise the open beer to my lips and survey the place. It’s not as nice as any of our clubs in Vegas, but we aren’t in the middle of Nevada anymore.

The band is decent. The crowd is a mix of preppy college students and bikers. Somehow, they manage to mix without clashing.

“Would you be interested in doing a job for me?”

A dark-haired woman with a disgruntled expression rolls her eyes and tips her head toward the bar. Both she and her tablemate swivel to look a few feet from where we’re standing.

What’s so interesting? A guy leans against the wooden surface with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze never leaves the woman at the table–even when she turns and faces the other direction. Another woman saunters up to him, grabs his chin, and jerks his head down, breaking his concentration. He barks something at her, causing her to stomp to the dancefloor.

No matter where you are in the world, there’s always drama. Either the man is trying to make the woman with the long dark hair, enormous eyes, and pouty lips that could make a grown man weep jealous to get her back, or he’s a total pervert.

The stunning woman leans forward and says something to the redhead across from her. I’m pegging him for a pervert. The woman is too classy to hang out with a guy like him. Too classy to date any of the guys in here. She should be hanging out at an art exhibit–not at a biker bar.

I shift my attention back to Truman. “What’s up?”

After he retired from the Navy, he opened a security firm that uses his tactical SEAL training and intelligence-gathering skills to investigate…. Whatever he’s hired to do.

“I have a client who’s concerned someone is trying to ruin a business.”

“Who’s the client?”

“Confidential.”

I nod.Interesting.“What’s the threat?”

One corner of his mouth raises. “Can’t tell you.”

“Asshole.” The fact I’m intrigued is a testament to his assholeness. I love puzzles. When I was four years old, I put together my first 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle of a Chinese dragon.

My mom cried as she glued the pieces together and hung them on the stairway wall. She’d moved from her home country at five and never returned until I banked my first million and took her and my father there for a trip.

From then on, I was obsessed with everything from Chinese puzzle boxes to the stock market.

He chuckles and leans back. “I would love to see what you find out after going in blind.”

“You think I’m going to bite.” I shake my head.Shit. I’m that weak.“Fine. Give me the details.” Give me a whodunit, and I’m all over it.

“Perfect.’ He takes a swig of his beer and sets it on the bar top. “Let’s get a booth, and I’ll fill you in on the details you’ll need to blend in.”

“It’s a good thing I’m free.” My friends found jobs they wanted to explore before we left Vegas. The fact I didn’t is to Truman’s benefit.

As we pass by the table with the two women, the brunette’s eyes meet mine, and my heart stops. Emerald blue eyes. They’re like two pools of ocean water under a star-studded night. Her complexion has a slight Indian tint, making her eyes even more striking. Her eyeshadow is minimal. Pouty fucking lips. Her top is white–crisp and expertly pressed.

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