Page 1 of Nevada

PROLOGUE

ESTELLE

“The Whiskey Straight?” I look up at the bar sign, hanging precariously from the joist. One gush of wind and that neon sign is gonna go splat.

“It’s not like this is the classiest part of New Orleans,” Halo replies. Okay, not her real name. But she likes it better than Lourdes and I think it kinda suits her. She’s a badass, like me, but looks like a goddamn angel. That’s the part where we differ.

People usually know what they’re getting themselves into once they’ve spent more than a minute with me; I don’t mince words and I get straight to the point. Fluffing around is useless and a waste of time.

Unlike Halo’s sassy, five-foot-two frame with bootylicious curves, capped off with platinum blonde hair, I’m the polar opposite. Five-six, auburn hair that hangs in loose waves with a slender frame and tits I wish were bigger. Unlike Halo, I have an acid tongue.

“You got that right,” I mutter.

“That’s what the contact said.” Halo shrugs, checking her phone again. “Wanna check it out?”

“I don’t think we came all the way down here to play patty cake.”

She snorts. “I see you dressed for the occasion.”

I glance down at my patent leather pants and ankle boots, paired with a skintight bodysuit and a warm, faux fur pink jacket. I came to get noticed. Good.

That’s what I want, but not in the way most people think.

I have one purpose, and one purpose only; and that’s to find my sister. Months ago she was taken by what I now know as a sex trafficking ring. I’ve been trying to track her down ever since.

The police have all but given up, and even though I’m a PI and have connections, every damn lead has turned to a dead end.

I roped in Halo and a few other buddies, most of which hold down day jobs and couldn’t come with us tonight. This, however, is my favorite part. One, because people, well, men, always underestimate me. I look soft and I look feminine. I look like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, and not in a Halo kind of way; she is actually a creamsicle in disguise. I’m more like a jungle cat. One that will strike as soon as I see an opening.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Seriously? Are you really going to kick some ass in those pants?”

“They’re stretchier than they look.”

“They definitely don’t look stretchy.”

“You’d be surprised how flexible plastic can be in a crisis. Anyway, these pants usually get me what I want fast because men are predictable.”

She snorts again.

Halo loves jeggings and any kind of oversized sweater. I don’t know why she covers herself up like that, she’s gorgeous. She also makes a good sidekick because she’s personable and people like her. That often distracts them away from what I’m doing; which is usually casing the joint, trying to find out who’s important so I can proceed to find out what I need to know fast. Questioning usually goes one of two ways; bad or worse. Or, very occasionally, they spill their guts before blood is drawn, not that it always comes to that, but I don’t ever bring knives to a gunfight.

I never used to be a violent person, but that all changed when Tilly was taken.

The guys who own this bar apparently know all about the trafficking ring that got busted months ago, but ever since the mob got taken down — and subsequently the assholes who operated the network — everything has gone cold. There is no trace of Tilly, and I’ve got no other leads. To say I’m desperate is an understatement.

What happened to those girls? Some were rescued, but surely not all. Where is my sister?

I push the doors open.

Inside resembles one of those dark, seedy bars you see in the movies where people go to do deals in the back corner. There’s a long saloon bar, then tables and chairs scattered around the room with a jukebox in one corner, and pool tables in the other. On closer inspection, it looks like a whole bunch of locals… who are now staring our way.

There’s also a couple of dudes in motorcycle jackets shooting pool; a jukebox blaring out country music — okay, not my first pick for a bar like this, but whatever — and a couple of chicks on the far side of the room grinding to the tunes while some of the men on the bar stools watch on.

“We should’ve brought Kyle,” Halo mutters.

I glance at her. “We don’t need Kyle.”

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