Keegan gave a snort of grim laughter. “Since when has that ever mattered in politics? Look how they tried to crucify Obama over his illegal immigrant aunt. It didn’t matter that he really didn’t know that poor woman. She was fair game, and so is Zandra Kennedy.”
Remy clenched his jaw, his gut churning with dread. The last thing he wanted was Zandra’s good name and reputation being dragged through the mud of Chicago politics. She’d be savaged by her father’s campaign rivals and the media, who would cast her in the same sleazy tabloid light as Heidi Fleiss and the D.C. Madam.
“The mayor wants me to hire a private investigator to find out if Zandra’s escorts are engaging in prostitution,” Keegan explained. “He wants the smoking gun that will torpedo Kennedy’s candidacy. That’s why I came to you.”
Remy glared at him. “If you think I’m going to investigate Zandra’s agency behind her back,” he growled, “think again.”
Keegan gave him a level look. “If you turn me down, Norwood will hire another firm. Can you guarantee that no illegal behavior will be uncovered?”
Remy frowned, remembering how Roderick and Lena met. She’d been one of Zandra’s escorts, and she’d slept with Roderick on their first date. Though they wound up falling madly in love and getting married, their relationship demonstrated that it was possible for any of Zandra’s girls to break the rules on any given night.
“I’m giving you an opportunity to protect Zandra from potential scandal,” Keegan continued. “If you investigate her agency and uncover any wrongdoing, then you can warn her to get her house in order before it’s too late. But you have to do it by the book, Brand,” he added sternly. “You can’t tip her off about the investigation. You need to get legitimate results—good or bad. Covering up the truth will only hurt Zandra in the long run.”
The knot in Remy’s gut pulled tighter. He knew Keegan was right, but damn it, he hated the idea of going behind Zandra’s back to investigate her agency. It was the ultimate breach of trust, and she’d never forgive him if she found out.
“I can’t do it,” he said flatly.
Keegan frowned. “Brand—”
“If my investigation reveals that her escorts are having sex with clients, then what? You’ll report back to the mayor, he’ll go public and Zandra will suffer the repercussions.” Remy shook his head. “I can’t do that to her.”
Keegan looked him in the eye. “You have my word that I won’t report any damaging information to Norwood.”
Remy frowned in confusion. “Then what the hell is the point of all this?”
“To appease the mayor. When he’s got his sights set on something, there’s no moving the target.” Keegan’s expression softened. “Look, son, I know how much Zandra Kennedy means to you. Whenever you talked about home, her name came up as often as any of your family members—sometimes more. I have no desire to cause her any trouble, but if the mayor hires another firm to investigate her agency, all bets are off. And we both know there’s nothing to stop any of the other candidates from going that route. If I were you, I’d want to know what kind of ammunition the enemy can use against me.”
Remy held the commander’s intent gaze for a moment, then shoved to his feet and stalked to the windows. He rubbed a hand down his face, rasping the short whiskers of his goatee.
Behind him, he heard the soft creak of leather as Keegan rose from the chair. “I’ve heaped a load onto your shoulders, so I’ll give you till this evening to get back to me with your decision.”
Remy nodded tightly.
Not only had Keegan been one of the best mentors he could have ever asked for, but when the shit hit the fan, he’d put his neck on the line for Remy, intervening with the brass to spare Remy the ignominy of a dishonorable discharge. And now he’d come through for him again.
Remy turned from the window. “Sir.”