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closed her eyes and whispered reassurances to herself. It didn’t help.

She thought about having a drink.

Decided not to.

If she turned to the bottle when she wanted to dull her racing mind, it’d become a crutch. Crutches were deadly. Best to drink when times were good.

The worst-case scenario slammed her, like a gut punch, twisting her from within. What if no one comes back? A colossal weight on her shoulders, on the back of her neck. She’d sent them out so many times before. Why was this time different? What was so special?

Maybe the location.

This place wasn’t home, wasn’t even close to the feeling. Vegas had started feeling like a base over time, somewhere she could be still and sort her head out. Here she was surrounded by beachgoers and permanent expatriates, all relishing in a good time, and if King and Slater and Alexis failed to walk through that door, paradise would become a nightmare in an instant.

She was trying to meditate with mixed results when the bungalow’s door flew open.

She leapt off the outdoor chair and aimed the Glock through the open sliding doors.

Aimed it right at King and Slater.

They hovered in the entranceway.

King cocked his head. ‘You’re jumpy.’

She lowered the gun, put it on the table. ‘Better safe than sorry.’

‘What put you on edge?’

‘Just trying to settle in,’ she said. ‘It’s taking longer than I thought.’

Slater said, ‘Where’s Alexis?’

She hesitated.

‘Violetta…’

She could see it on his face.

Flashing back to Vegas, remembering a psychotic ex-sheriff snatching Alexis up the moment she tried to help.

Slater said, ‘Violetta!’

‘She went for a ride.’

‘A ride?’ Slater said. ‘On what?’

‘We rented mopeds. She went out a couple of hours ago. You didn’t run into her when you were trawling the streets?’

Slater went quiet.

King said, ‘No,’ even though the answer was obvious.

Violetta said, ‘I’m sorry. She wanted independence. I wasn’t going to stop her.’

The air got so thick she could feel it weighing on her chest.

She sat back down and refrained from tugging her hair out.

42

As she parked the moped out front and made for the bungalow’s side door, Alexis heard Slater shout, ‘She could be dead, Violetta!’

Alexis smirked at that.

She stepped inside.

Everyone looked up from the lounge area.

Slater said, ‘Oh, thank God,’ jogged over to her and threw his arms around her.

She held him tight.

When they parted, he said, ‘All good?’

She said, ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘Because your knuckles are bleeding.’

She looked down. ‘Oh. Right.’

‘What happened?’

‘I went for a ride,’ she said, and saw Violetta flinch, seemingly from déjà vu. ‘I took Queen’s Highway up to West End. I got mugged.’

Slater froze. Looked her up and down. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘Just my knuckles, it seems. You taught me well.’

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘What’d you do?’

‘Whoever owns this place is aware of crimes of opportunity,’ she said. ‘I found brass knuckles in our bedroom. In the nightstand drawer. I took them with me, just in case.’

‘And you took your gun?’

She nodded, tapping the holster she’d shoved into the small of her back, burrowed into her jean shorts.

King said, ‘You really geared up.’

She looked at him. ‘You got something to say, Jason?’

‘Nothing that needs to turn into an argument,’ he said, sitting down at the kitchen island. ‘But you went looking for a fight.’

‘I—’

‘Alexis, whatever confidence you’re feeling is new to you,’ he said. ‘I’ve been doing this twenty years. Don’t try to lie to me.’

She clammed up, recalibrated, changed direction. ‘Yeah, okay. I was open to the idea.’

Slater didn’t react.

She said, ‘Are you mad at me?’

‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘But don’t pretend you were mugged. You jumped some shifty character, right?’

She cocked her head.

He said, ‘I don’t want to know what you did to him, but I hope it was justified. We’re not criminals.’

Violetta said, ‘We’re the definition of criminals.’

King said, ‘You know what he means.’

‘I wouldn’t dare lie about that,’ Alexis said. ‘Making false accusations isn’t my cup of tea. There were two of them. They were going to rape me.’

A weighty pause.

Slater said, ‘You’re sure?’

‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘You think I’m lying?’

‘No, I don’t.’

King said, ‘What’d you do to them?’

But it wasn’t a cautionary question anymore. It was a genuine desire to know. She could see it burning behind his eyes, but more so in Slater’s. Will looked like he wanted to light the whole world on fire.

She said, ‘I parked in West End and strolled through what I’m guessing is a bad part of town. They latched on like leeches and followed me down a trail. I only retaliated when one of them grabbed me and tried to force me down. Clocked him in the face, then shot his friend in the leg.’

‘Did you kill them?’ Slater said.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I left them there.’

He went to the kitchen island, snatched up what had to be the keys to the other moped, and said, ‘Where?’

His eyes burned bright.

Alexis shook her head. ‘That’s not what I want.’

‘It’s what I want.’

She said, ‘They’re nobodies. Labourers who work construction or something like that. The one I hit in the face might die from his injuries. Isn’t that enough?’

‘No,’ Slater said. ‘That’s never enough.’

He meant it.

She could see it in his mind, maybe as clearly as he could.

Remnants of a macabre childhood.

The ethereal ghost of his mother, sold into trafficking.

Sheer hate for anyone who forced themselves on a woman.

Alexis figured she’d take his mind off it. She reached into the back pocket of her shorts and pulled out the vig book. Held it up for all to see.

King and Violetta said, ‘What’s that?’ in unison.

Then gave each other a little glance of acknowledgement.

Great minds…

Alexis said, ‘This is Eric Moretti’s logbook. It contains all the money he was responsible for collecting, all the addresses of the people who owe him money, and more importantly it has an address for one of Dylan Walcott’s safe houses.’

Now there was a long pause as everyone digested that information.

Violetta said, ‘Who’s Eric Moretti?’

Alexis said, ‘I can’t read you his biography if that’s what you’re asking. But the two guys who tried

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