Jimmy waited for the
sound of stomping boots to fade away. The implications were clear—if he didn’t
deal with this, she and Jacki would.
He partially closed the door, shutting out the possibility of
being overheard. When it came to keeping things confidential, he knew that
anyone could be lurking in the hallway waiting for a juicy tidbit of
information…including Clar and Jacki. “Okay, level with me, Clint, what do you
know about this anyway? Why would a former undercover agent Texas Ranger be in
the room of a beaten-up porn star?”
“Jimmy, you know the deal. My ass would be hung out to dry by the
people who hired me if I told you. I never know who it is that needs my
services. I get called, do the job, and get paid. Done deal.”
“Bullshit, this is personal.” Jimmy knew rules got broken every
day.
“Yeah, I could see that,” Clint said, looking at the door.
Jimmy stood firm knowing he was showing more of his cards than he
should. “So.”
“Maybe you should back away from her. Okay, but don’t shoot the
messenger.” Clint widened his stance going into full cop mode. “This goes deep,
way deep. There’s information that can’t get into the hands of the press, and
that includes you. There’s an investigation going on and we won’t know anything
until Andres comes out of the coma.”
“Fair enough, for now.” Jimmy paced, tapping the notebook with a
pen. “When did Cameron show up? What’s his connection with LAPD?” Clint knew
more and Jimmy wanted that information. Starting with Cameron could be a good
move.
“I know what you’re doing, Jimmy. Let’s cut to the chase. Cameron
has been investigating the death of that young porn star who was strung up and
murdered during a BDSM filming. He’s been here for about six months. Just
showed up, took up residence, and has been throwing his weight around.” Clint
stepped over to the door, pulled it open the rest of the way, and looked down
the hall. “Just so you know, someone in Jackson Wolfe’s camp hired me.”
“Holy shit.”