Dear God, how was I going to explain it to Regina?
I stood slowly, ignoring the pounding on my door as reality crashed around me. Teeny had murdered my mom and he was going to get away with it. I’d never even get her ashes unless I paid him off.
No.
Just . . . No.
The thumping on my door continued, but I didn’t pay any attention, because suddenly things were so incredibly clear. How come I hadn’t figured it out earlier? I felt a hysterical laugh trying to force its way out as I ran into my bedroom and grabbed a backpack. I had to work fast—any minute someone would call Regina and Earl, tell them that I’d lost my mind. That I’d thrown their precious family heirloom into the street.
Maybe they’d forgive me for that. Probably. That’s the kind of people they were. Now wasn’t the time to find out, though. I had way too much to do and I couldn’t risk them stopping me—the last thing I needed was to drag them down with me as accomplices. I started grabbing clothes and stuffing them into the bag. Leaning across my bed, I picked up the cigar case on my bedside table and shoved it in, too.
Bathroom.
Brushing my teeth with one hand, I grabbed my toiletries with the other. Shampoo, conditioner, razor. Makeup. All of it went into the backpack, which I threw over my shoulder. My purse still hung from the little hook on the wall next to my door. It had my money inside—fourteen dollars. Pathetic. That wouldn’t even fill my gas tank.
But I knew where I could get more.
Flinging open the door, I nearly ran Eva down as I pushed past her. She shouted something at me, which I ignored. Eva didn’t matter anymore. None of it mattered. My little blue car sat waiting for me out in the alley. She’d been good to me, and now I needed her to be better—we had a long drive ahead of us.
All the way to California.
And when I got there? Well, then I’d use my other family heirloom from Regina and Earl to kill Teeny Patchel. End this shit once and for all.
I couldn’t wait.
THIRTEEN
An hour later I pulled up to the Vegas Belles Gentlemen’s Club. The adrenaline and initial explosion of anger had faded, leaving me tired but determined. My phone had been blowing up the entire drive. Regina. Earl. Danielle. Blake. Even Darcy tried to get in touch. Apparently my tantrum was the biggest thing to hit Callup since . . . Well, since my fight at the Breakfast Table last week.
Oops.
Not that it mattered—I had a job to do, and I’d worry about Callup afterward. Odds were good I’d never come back here anyway. I couldn’t risk making Puck an accomplice any more than I’d risk Regina and Earl—he’d already spent enough time in prison. The thought of leaving hurt, but the thought of Teeny continuing to live hurt even more.
I had to end it. End him. Maybe I’d get lucky and find my mother’s ashes at his place, but that wasn’t the part that mattered.
What mattered was killing him.
To do that I needed money, enough money to get down to California and then hopefully get away once I finished. I could try to borrow it, of course. But anyone who helped me would become an accomplice to murder. We couldn’t have that. Nope. This one was on me, no one else. I might not be much better than my mother, but at least I wouldn’t take anyone else down with me.
I’d work at the Vegas Belles for a day, get as much cash as I could, and then start driving. If I ran out of money on the way, I’d stop at another club and do it again.
Too bad I hadn’t gotten over my precious dignity in time to save my mom.
The bouncer at the door recognized me. I’d stopped to clean up, of course, and change into something more suitable. I remembered the bartender’s words and wondered if she’d been serious about the blow job.
Probably.
Oh well. I’d had to do worse.
“Welcome back,” he said, opening the door for me. “Decide you want to work after all?”
“Yeah,” I said, putting on my friendliest, least crazy face. “I got cold feet last time—now I’m ready to go.”
“It’s your lucky day,” he said, winking. God, men were stupid. “We’ve got the big boss coming in from out of town, and three of the girls called in sick. Don’t fall on your face and you’ll get hired, no hassle.”
That was lucky. About time something went my way.
The same bartender was inside again. She frowned when she saw me and I wondered what her problem was. Then I realized it really didn’t matter, because I wasn’t here to impress her. I just needed to convince them to let me work long enough to collect a couple hundred bucks.
Then I’d never see them again anyway.
She walked over to me.
“You should leave,” she said in a low voice. “Not a good day to start here.”
“I need the money. Is the manager around?” She nodded tightly, then pointed toward the door leading to the hallway.
“Go down to his office,” she said. “We got VIPs coming in soon. He’s busy, so go fast.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me,” she muttered. “Fucking stupid to come back here.”
Stupid? She didn’t know the half of it. I walked across the room, noting that only one waitress was working the floor. There were two men sitting near the stage, where a girl danced slowly. Her heart really wasn’t in it, and I couldn’t blame her. Two customers weren’t enough to make any money.
Shit.
What would I do if I couldn’t earn enough? Crossing my fingers, I walked over to the door leading to the office. Three big men stood out in the hallway wearing “Security” shirts. More bouncers.