Page 82 of Enforcing the Rules

My knuckles rapped on the metal door. “Dad?”

The volume on the television went quiet.

“Dad? It’s me, Kate.”

The door stayed closed, but the drape shifted a half inch. I couldn’t see much. “Dad. Open up. I just want to talk.”

A chain rustled, and the door opened a foot. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Edina told me.”

“That loudmouthed bitch. I shoulda known she couldn’t keep her trap shut.”

“I just wanted to know if there was a loophole where I don’t have to claim this scratch-off winnings for taxes.” I pulled a ticket out of my pocket and stepped into the sunshine, squinting at the fine print. “See, it says here I’ve got sixty days to claim it.”

“No, you have one-hundred-and eighty days.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He opened the door farther and leaned against the frame.

“It’s my boyfriend’s ticket actually, but he owes child support, and somebody told him they could garnish the winnings. Is that true?”

“Yes. You should definitely be the one to claim it. That way they can’t take any of it.”

“But what about this part? Look. He signed it, then scratched it out.”

Ray held his hand out. “Let me see.”

“Do I sign here? Come here. The light’s better.”

He stepped into the sun to where I stood near the hood of my car. When he got close, I slipped my hand in my purse, closed it over my taser, and jammed it into his thigh. The vibration shot up my arm.

My father shook for a moment, then dropped to the ground.

Utah came around the building with his gun aimed at Ray’s head.

“Don’t shoot him,” I hissed.

My father glared at me, but he couldn’t get any words out. He just drooled.

Memphis came around the end of the Malibu, and Baja jogged over. They, too, had guns drawn.

The parking lot was empty except for my car and the Malibu.

Utah jerked his head toward the street. “Baja, bring the van.”

“Where are you taking him?” I asked, staring at Utah.

“Clubhouse,” Memphis answered. “We’re gonna find out where our damn money is.”

Utah jerked his head toward the door. “Search his room.”

Memphis spit on Ray, then booted him in the crotch. “That’s for Night Train.”

“Go,” Utah snapped.

Memphis stalked inside the room as the van came to a jerking stop, and Baja scrambled out.

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