Page 29 of Texas Hold Em'
She twirled the keys around her finger. “I just need you boys to trust me, okay?”
Jackson rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Give me a fucking break.”
“I trust you,” I said.
“Likewise,” Mason added.
Jackson glared at us, his eyes burning with betrayal. His fiery stare slid to Carrie. “What does this plan entail?”
Carrie opened the front door. “If I tell you, you’ll never let me go through with it. Have a little faith, Black Jack.”
With that, she stepped out into the hall and let the door fall closed behind her.
If Jackson were a cartoon character, he’d have been blowing smoke out of his ears.
CHAPTER 12
CARRIE
The old Chevelle wasn’t exactly incognito.
The exhaust sounded like it was either going to blow up or fall off, and the engine had a rattle that had to be a death sentence. Why the damn thing was still insured, I had no idea, but I was grateful for the wheels. I didn’t have my own car here. Since I came to Reno, I’d been getting around in one of the station’s cruisers, but for obvious reasons, that was no longer an option.
So the Chevelle it was.
It coughed and sputtered all the way down the inner streets of Reno, where just last night Tex and I had woven through traffic like two psychopaths with death wishes. I passed the same alley we’d taken cover in, drove over tire marks on the pavement, and passed the same intersection where it all started.
It all felt surreal.
My hands shook when I pulled over to the curb and put the Chevelle in park. I took the keys out of the ignition and sat behind the wheel, baking in the afternoon sun as it beat through the windshield. Across the street, I watched the hustle and bustle of a busy hair salon. The windows were trimmed in outdated powder-pink curtains, andthe name of the salon was written in white marker on the windows: The Snip Shop.
Since coming to Reno, I’d learned that many businesses, including the salon, were owned by independent business people who’d opened their doors twenty years ago. The street seemed to thrive with unique shops, including bakeries, computer repair places, soup and sandwich joints, thrift stores, a realty office, and all other kinds of destination locations. It had the feel of a quaint and much smaller city on this block, but I knew what lay underneath the glossy sidewalk signs.
Crime.
Control.
Power.
These places were being crushed under Bates’s thumb. Since he rolled into town, he’d been buying up every business he could get his hands on. The ones who wouldn’t sell or the ones he didn’t want, he pushed for money. He now had a well-oiled operation where he collected hundreds of dollars from each business, perhaps thousands.
Every week he sent his daughter to collect his funds. Today, she’d hit the salon, as well as a handful of other places down the block.
I’d staked out this location before in my cruiser, curious about the comings and goings of the Bates family. I knew Caroline’s routine from hours parked at the curb in my undercover squad car, and it was unflinchingly rigid.
She would be here within fifteen minutes.
I got out of the Chevelle and crossed the street. A bell chimed overhead when I stepped through the salon door, and a young woman with ruby red glasses looked up from a computer screen.
She pushed the glasses higher up on her nose and smiled. “Hi, what time is your appointment?”
“Oh, I don’t have an appointment.”
She looked me up and down, no doubt taking note of my scandalous outfit. “We’re fully booked today.”
“That’s too bad,” I said, pulling my badge out of my purse and flashing it at her. “I’m going to need everyone to get out.”
The girl stared at my badge before promptly calling her manager over, who pleaded with me not to kick out her customers, some of whom had foils in their hair and were only halfway through the bleaching process.
