Unraveled

by Jennifer Estep

  Despite his one-hundred-plus years, the dwarf was still strong, and the blow dug into my ribs. I started to retaliate, but Ira gave me a sharp warning glare. So I gritted my teeth, raised my hand, and gave a short, jerky wave. No more applause sounded, though, and I hurried back over to the bleachers and sat down next to Owen, hunching my shoulders and trying to make myself as small and invisible as possible.

  Owen looked at me, a grin spreading across his face. “You know,” he said, “I think there just might be a new sheriff in this here town.”

  “I think you’re absolutely right,” Bria chimed in, enjoying my misery as much as he was.

  “Shut it, you two,” I groused, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Finn leaned forward, staring at me. “You just had to go and ruin the show, didn’t you, Gin?”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” I groused again. “He had a gun.”

  “Which was loaded with blanks.” Finn snorted. “He had a toy.”

  Still, he grinned and tossed his last few pieces of popcorn at me, letting me know that all was forgiven. Well, at least my friends thought that my embarrassing myself was freaking hilarious, because the Bullet Pointe performers certainly did not. They all gave me another round of sour looks before walking down the street and heading back inside the shops to take up their previous stations. Naturally, Brody was the angriest of all, giving me a drop-dead-bitch glare before he stomped off toward one of the alleys.

  Ira stared at me, his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth puckered in thought. Then he shook his head, as if dismissing me as just some crazy lady, and started messing with the sound system close to the dais, putting his microphone away and turning everything off until the next show.

  Sheriff Roxy was the only one who wasn’t upset by my showstopping antics. Even though I’d ruined her big, ­triumphant moment to play the hero, she seemed genuinely amused by the whole thing, and she even went so far as to grin and tip her white Stetson at me. The move was eerily similar to how she’d saluted me with her gun outside McAllister’s mansion, further convincing me that she was the lawyer’s would-be assassin.

  But instead of charging over and confronting her, I gave her a sheepish grin and shrug in return, pretending that I was still clueless about her real identity—and how dangerous she was.

  Roxy nodded back at me, then turned on her bootheel and hurried down the street, heading after Brody. I wanted to know what the two of them might say about me, so I decided to go be a fly on that wall.

  “You know,” I said, “I really should go apologize to Brody for overreacting like that.”

  Finn nodded. “That would be a nice gesture.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “And you should totally ask Brody for his autograph. You know, soothe his bruised ego and busted nose a little bit.”

  He snickered, and Bria and Owen chuckled right along with him.

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll go make nice with the giant. You guys go check out the shops on Main Street, and I’ll come find you in a few minutes. Okay?”

  We all got to our feet, and Finn, Bria, and Owen fell into the stream of folks leaving the bleachers and wandering back toward the storefronts. I started to head toward the alley that Brody and Roxy had disappeared into, but Ira rounded the dais and blocked my path.

  The dwarf crossed his arms over his chest and spread his legs wide, as if bracing for a confrontation. “Who are you?” he demanded. “And what are you and your friends really doing here?”

  “I told you before. My name is Gin Blanco.”

  I waited, wondering if Ira might be on the Circle’s payroll just like Roxy was, but he didn’t show a flicker of recognition at my name. He was either a good actor or he really had never heard of me before.

  “And Finn told you why we’re here,” I continued. “He’s Deirdre’s son, and he owns the resort now.”

  Ira huffed. “That city slicker’s name might be on the deed, but Bullet Pointe belongs to me.” He stabbed his finger into his chest, right where his heart was. “Sweet Sally Sue herself took me in and gave me a job when I was just a teenager, and I’ve been here ever since. I’m the one who’s kept this place running all these years, despite Deirdre Shaw’s best efforts to the contrary.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? What do you know about Deirdre?”

  He huffed again. “That she was a spoiled, selfish brat who didn’t give a damn about anything other than herself. She certainly didn’t care about the theme park and the people like me who love it, who depend on it to put food on their tables and clothes on their kids’ backs. All she did was live the high life in her fancy suite and squeeze as much money as possible out of the hotel and park. And then, when she decided that I wasn’t making her enough money anymore, she replaced me with that, that phony.”

  Well, I couldn’t argue with his assessment of Roxy. She was a phony, right down to those flashy colored rhinestones on her oversize belt buckle.

  “And now you and your friends come here,” Ira continued in his rant, “and the first thing you do is ruin the high-noon show. Absolutely ruin it. I saw your face during the show. You thought it was silly, stupid even. But the performers train hard for it, and they like showing off their skills and getting cheers and being asked to pose for pictures. Not to mention how much the audience enjoys it, especially the kids. But none of that happened today, thanks to you, Ms. Gin Blanco.”

  I’d never thought about the show that way before, how hard the performers worked to put it on every single day, and how much enjoyment they and the audience got out of it. I shifted on my feet, guilt weighing down my stomach. “I really am sorry about that. I didn’t mean to ruin the show.”

  Ira slapped his hands on his hips. “Sorry? You’re sorry? No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hoping for one second that your friend Mr. Lane might actually be different from his mama. That he might actually give a damn about this place and do what’s best for it and all the people who work here.”

  I opened my mouth to say that Finn was different from Deirdre, but Ira snapped up his hand, cutting me off.

  “Forget it,” he growled. “I have work to do. I don’t have time for the likes of you, you . . . menace.”

  Ira gave me another angry glare, then turned and stomped off, disappearing into the crowd.

  I stood by the empty bleachers, digesting his tongue-lashing, which ironically enough was similar to what I’d said to Jonah McAllister a few days ago. And just like mine had been back then, Ira’s words were all too true now.

  I didn’t care about Bullet Pointe and what happened to it, and neither did Finn. We’d come down here to get answers about Deirdre and the Circle. Nothing more, nothing less. This was just a lark for us, just a holiday, just a couple of days’ respite from our own lives, problems, and worries back in Ashland.

  But to Ira Morris, this resort with all its costumed characters, cheesy decorations, and corny shows was his home, and he was determined to fight for it. Even if he might still secretly be working for Tucker and the Circle, I admired the dwarf’s conviction. It was the same way I felt about the Pork Pit and all of Ashland. Once the weekend was over, and my friends and I had our answers, I’d talk to Finn about his plans for Bullet Pointe, about making sure that the resort continued on.

  But for right now, Roxy was here, and she was the only lead I had on Hugh Tucker and the Circle. So I squared my shoulders, left the bleachers behind, and set off down Main Street, more than ready to find some answers about what was really going on in these here parts.

  * * *

  I headed for the alley that Brody and Roxy had walked into, which was one of several that ran between the storefront blocks that made up the two sides of Main Street. A few of the performers were leaving the alley and heading back out to the street, and they all gave me the stink-eye as they passed me. It made me feel as though I were still back in Ashland, still back
at the Pork Pit, being glared at by the underworld bosses while I served up barbecue. Always popular, yep, that was me. Making enemies wherever I went.

  I ducked my head and hurried on. Just before I reached the end of the alley, I glanced back over my shoulder, but no one else was in the corridor, so I sidled up and peered around the corner, staring out into the space beyond.

  A large square had been converted into a break and staging area for the performers and shows. A series of open-air wooden pavilions spread out across the square, each one a different station. Racks of cowboy, saloon-girl, gambler, and other costumes were lined up in one pavilion, along with several lit mirrored vanity tables so everyone could put on their beauty marks, scars, and other makeup to get fully into character. Metal footlockers for folks to store their personal possessions and clothes took up most of another pavilion. Still more supplies were housed in the other areas, everything from boots and high heels, to strongboxes full of fake guns and ammunition, to pickaxes, saws, and other tools, to lassos that were curled up like thick rattlesnakes in plastic barrels.

  The stagecoach that had been used in the high-noon show was also parked back here, complete with piles of luggage that had been lashed to the top. A dirt path led off to the right and over to a rusty red barn where the horses were kept, and the air smelled like manure, dust, and hay. A ten-foot chain-link fence topped with razor wire cordoned off the back of the square, and through the trees, I could see the dark blue surface of the lake glinting in the distance.

  Since the show was over, all the performers were back at their usual stations on Main Street, and the square was empty except for Brody, who sat in front of one of the ­vanity-table mirrors, peering at his broken nose. Roxy leaned against the side of the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest. Her lips quirked up into a smile as she watched the giant try to push his nose back where it was supposed to be. I slipped my phone out of my jeans pocket, set it to video mode, and pointed it at them.

  “That bitch,” Brody growled. “I can’t believe she broke my nose.”

  “Well, that’s Gin Blanco for you,” Roxy said. “From what Tucker told me, she just sledgehammers her way through life. Worse than a bull in the proverbial china shop. In this case, you just happened to be the china.”

  Roxy chuckled at her own bad joke. Brody gave her a sour look, which she ignored.

  He leaned forward and smiled at himself in the mirror. “Well, at least she didn’t get any of my teeth. I just had these babies whitened.”

  So Roxy was working for Tucker, just like I’d thought, and apparently Brody was too. I was glad that I’d busted the giant’s nose. My only regret was that I hadn’t hit him harder and made him eat his precious teeth like they were peppermint candies.

  I thought about palming a knife and confronting the two of them, but we were only a few dozen feet off the main drag. Their screams would be sure to attract unwanted attention. Besides, I wanted to get as much information as I could first. Because I still didn’t know what the point of all this was.

  It was obvious now that Tucker had arranged for Finn to receive the deed to Bullet Pointe, but why had the vampire lured us down here to the resort? Did he plan to somehow get Finn to sign the property over to him? Or did he want something else from us? Once I knew the answer to that, I could plan my next move and kill Roxy and Brody to my heart’s content. So I stayed quiet and still in the shadows in the corner of the alley, recording them with my phone.

  “How much longer do we have to make nice with these people?” Brody growled.

  “Until Tucker says otherwise,” Roxy said. “You know that.”

  The giant tossed his ruined, bloody bandanna onto the vanity table. “All I know is that we’ve been stuck here for the last two months in this stupid theme park, dressing up like stupid cowboys, and putting on stupid shows. And what do we have to show for it? Nothing.”

  Well, at least I wasn’t the only one who was frustrated by a lack of progress.

  “Ah, come on,” Roxy said. “Hanging around here has been fun.”

  “You’re just saying that because of your cowboy fetish.” Brody shook his head. “You actually like all of this cheesy Western stuff. The cowgirl costume, the aw-shucks attitude, playing sheriff, the whole shtick. You even had all your creepy animal heads shipped up from Blue Marsh so you could decorate your office with them.”

  Roxy shrugged. “I like souvenirs of my hunts. I’ve got a guy working on that black bear that I killed last weekend up in Cypress Mountain. It’s going in the corner, right next to my bobcat.”

  So she was a hunter, just like I’d thought when I’d seen all those poor stuffed animals in her office earlier. More than that, she liked to keep trophies of her deadly prowess.

  Brody snorted. “No, you just like killing things. And now you think that Gin Blanco is going to be your big-game prize.”

  Roxy grinned. “Absolutely. That bitch is already dead. She just doesn’t know it yet. And I’m going to be the one who finally puts her down for good. I would have done it outside McAllister’s mansion, but Tucker wanted her down here instead.”

  My eyes narrowed. My head stuffed and mounted on a wall? Never going to happen, sugar.

  “Yeah, McAllister, the guy you failed to kill,” Brody sniped. “I can’t believe he fooled you with a silverstone vest.”

  “Who thought he would be that smart?” Roxy muttered, her sunny disposition slipping just a bit. “Besides, Tucker just wanted him dead to prove a point to Blanco. McAllister doesn’t know anything important. Still, I’ll go back and finish him off after we get done with Blanco and her friends. Just for not dying when I wanted him to.”

  Brody crossed his arms over his chest. “And of course getting to show off your little tricks with your revolvers is just the icing on the cake,” he snarked, continuing his rant. “This whole job has been like a dream come true for you.”

  “Well, it was certainly better than sitting in that penthouse in Bigtime, waiting to take that guy out with a sniper rifle.” Roxy huffed. “There’s no fun in that. No thrill of the chase, no outwitting your opponent, no hunting them down and seeing the fear in their eyes before you pull the trigger.”

  It sounded like the two of them were some sort of ­tag-team hit squad for Tucker, traveling around the country and doing whatever dirty jobs he paid them to. I wondered just how many people Tucker had working for him. Maybe he was higher up in the Circle than I’d realized. Maybe he was actually one of the leaders, instead of just Deirdre’s minder and an errand boy like I’d thought.

  “Besides,” Roxy said, “working at the resort was the only way that we could come in and search for the jewels without tipping off everyone as to what we’re really doing here.”

  It took a moment for her words to sink in, but once they did, understanding flashed through me like a lightning bolt.

  The jewels. Of course.

  So Deirdre had swiped Sweet Sally Sue’s gemstones, but apparently, she hadn’t hocked them for cold, hard cash or used them to pay for the hotel renovations. She must have stashed them here at Bullet Pointe as her golden parachute, in case things went south with Finn in Ashland. Only Finn had killed Deirdre instead, and she’d never had a chance to come back to the resort and retrieve the diamonds, sapphires, and rubies.

  “Tucker knows that Deirdre hid those stones somewhere around here,” Roxy said. “And he has made it very clear that we’re not leaving until we find them.”

  “And I say that they’re not here,” Brody growled. “We’ve looked everywhere for those things. I don’t see why Tucker wants them so badly anyway. He’s got plenty of money of his own.”

  Roxy shrugged. “Sure, Tucker’s loaded, but Deirdre Shaw owed millions to him and his friends, and he plans to get at least some of that money back by whatever means necessary. It’s the principle of the thing. Besides, Tucker’s friends aren’t the kind of people you want
to disappoint. He needs to smooth things over with them, even if it’s only by putting a small dent in Deirdre’s massive debt.”

  The giant stuck his lower lip out in a petulant pout. “Well, I still don’t see why we just can’t kill Blanco, Lane, and the other two and be done with this job already.”

  “Because Tucker thinks that Blanco might be able to find the gems with her Stone magic,” Roxy said in a patient voice, as though she were explaining something to a three-year-old. “Or that Deirdre actually told Finnegan Lane where she hid them.”

  “But you asked Lane flat out if he knew about the jewels, and he told you no.”

  Roxy shrugged again. “Maybe he knows something, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe Deirdre fed him some clue that he doesn’t even realize is a clue. Either way, I’ll get it out of him.” She paused. “Or Tucker will.”

  They both blanched a little at that. Apparently, they were well acquainted with how Hugh Tucker got answers from people. The image of Deirdre handcuffed to a chair, with cuts, bruises, burns, and deep, ugly bite marks all over her body flashed through my mind. Deirdre had worked for the vampire, and he hadn’t had any qualms about making her suffer, just because she’d disappointed him. I could well imagine how much more enthusiastic he would be in torturing me, Finn, Bria, and Owen if he thought it would get him what he wanted.

  “And Blanco?” Brody said, getting to his feet. “What do you want to do about her?”

  “Well, you were supposed to grab her so we could get her out of the way before we went after Lane.” Roxy tapped her own straight, perfect nose. “Not let her smash your face like it was a piñata.”

  The giant growled, but Roxy waved her hand, dismissing his anger. “We’ll take care of Blanco later. And if she can’t find the gems, or if Lane doesn’t know anything about them, and the stones really are gone for good, well, at least we’ll have a bit of fun with them before we leave.”

  She grinned, plucked one of the revolvers out of the holster on her belt, and started spinning it around and around, making the silver barrel glimmer in the afternoon sun. Cold rage surged through me at the way she’d so casually talked about torturing and murdering me and my loved ones—and how much she was going to enjoy it.