Page 23 of Femme Fatale
I dismounted, boots crunching on gravel, and got a real sense of my own size as I squared up to the first line. Six-four, two-forty, I wasn’t the biggest man in Vegas, but I beat out anyone in the lot by at least four inches. The guards didn’t care. Spade, tall, olive skin, scars up her forearms like she’d been training razors since birth, stepped in close and started the ritual, including a rough pat-down, arms, armpits, inside the waistband, then a full circle, boot to collar. I grunted when she found my backup piece.
“Only the one?” she said, her voice flat, hands not leaving my belt. I almost told her to check the weapon between my legs.
I shrugged, which in my case is more like a landslide. “Didn’t want to insult you with a pea shooter. Besides, I’m not here for trouble.”
She made a sound that might have been a laugh or an animal-like threat. “You’re Zeke, right? Jack Smalls’ blood.”
“That’s the rumor,” I said, and let my face harden. There were stories about me, and most of them were true.
Spade held my Glock up to the light, admired the clean lines, and said, “You want it back after?”
“If I walk out,” I replied. “Name your price, I’ll buy it twice.”
She slid it into a wall-mounted safe by the entry and waved me on. I caught the scent of femininity as I stepped past her, the air shifting from dust and sage outside to old smoke and disinfectant inside. It felt familiar and hostile all at once.
Inside, the war room was alive, if you knew how to look. They’d taken the lodge’s main hall and stripped out everything but the beams and the stone hearth. The walls were pegged with maps of the Vegas city grid, county routes, and the entire region webbed in colored marker and thumbtacks. A folding table ranthe length of the room, covered with scattered weapons, ammo, open energy drinks, a bowl of hard candy, and at least three unlit cigars.
At the head of the table, the queen herself. Selene. She had a presence with her dark eyes, curly black hair to her shoulders, and a face that would have been pretty if not for the perpetually set jaw. She wore black denim and a single starched white bandana and didn’t bother to get up as I entered. She just looked at me, steady and unblinking, like she was measuring caskets.
To her right, the rest of her top six. Joker, in mirrored sunglasses even indoors, shuffled a deck of cards like her life depended on it. Glitz had a laptop open and three phones going, a cigarette parked at the edge of her lips. Aces spun a wheel nut between her fingers, expression lazy but eyes darting to every movement. Tempest and Nines took up the flanks, both of them resting arms on their Glocks, both with faces that promised no patience for bullshit.
“Morning, Zeke,” Selene said. The way she said my name made it clear she’d already sized me up.
“Selene,” I said.
“You're here because your father is running out of lies to tell the city,” Selene said. “We’ve heard you’re smarter.”
“I wouldn’t have made it past your perimeter if I wasn’t,” I said.
Joker leaned in, pushing her sunglasses up. “Cut the dick-measuring. You come here to parlay or to recon? We’ve got places to be.”
I bit my tongue. The last thing I needed was a bar fight with seven women, so I just smiled and let the tension wind up a notch.
Selene nodded at Spade, who’d come in behind me. “Get him a chair. Make sure he can’t see out the windows.”
Spade kicked a metal folding chair at my knees. I sat, hands open, nothing to hide.
Selene leaned forward, fingers interlaced. “I know your father’s operation. He’s running girls and guns out of three brothels, half a dozen motels, and a farm outside Amargosa. He uses you as the fixer. Is that about right?”
I waited, measured my answer. “You know more than most. He’s old school. Likes to keep family in the loop.”
“Family,” Glitz said, snorting. “Cute.”
Selene went on. “Why’re you here, Zeke?”
“Because you’re running the only house in Clark County my father can’t bully, bribe, or bomb out of existence.”
Selene smiled, slow and cold. “Because you’re about to jump ship.”
Joker whistled, low. “Straight to the chase, huh?”
I looked at the maps on the wall, the network of arrows and notes, and realized that if I played it wrong, I wouldn’t make it out. “Let’s say I am. What’s your pitch?”
“Simple,” Selene said. “We’re taking down your father, and we’re doing it without leaving half the county in a mass grave. You help us, you get a seat at the table. Or, you walk, and you die in the same old stories your dad tells everyone. The choice is yours, but make it fast. We’re on the clock.”
The room went quiet except for Glitz’s keyboards and the soft shuffle of Joker’s cards.
I felt the weight of every eye. I reached into my pocket, real slow, and pulled out a battered, bloodstained USB drive. I set it on the table.
