Page 29 of Femme Fatale
I stopped, met her gaze. “You have a plan?”
She shrugged. “You’re the Vegas President, Selene. The first, and maybe the last. I’m not here to run your war, just keep you alive long enough to win it.”
I poured another shot, this time for her, and set it on the table. Her hand lingered over it, then pulled it close, but she didn’t drink.
“This crew is different,” she said, quieter. “It wasn’t just outlaws and grifters. It was a family, whether you liked it or not. Don’t let one old bastard tear it apart.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but the door slammed open and Joker strode in, jacket half-zipped, sunglasses in her hair. “Prez,” she said, not bothering with formalities, “Jack’s guys were bragging all over the Strip. They think you’re going to fold.”
Stephanie looked at me. “You gonna let them?”
I felt the decision crystallize inside, hard as a diamond. My shoulders straightened. My jaw locked so tight I thought I’d break a tooth. I walked back to the table and took the shot. The bourbon went down like fire, but left me clear-headed and hungry.
“No,” I said. “I’m not.”
Stephanie watched me for a beat, then gave the tiniest nod. She saw the same thing in me that I’d felt in her, which was a refusal to let someone else write your story, no matter what it cost.
“Then let’s get to work,” she said.
***
The clubhouse war room had been a zoo, and I was the head zookeeper. Every officer had arrived early.
The big table was buried under city maps and hand-drawn blueprints; colored poker chips marked targets and routes, and there was more caffeine than blood in the collective bloodstream.
I didn’t have to call the meeting to order. The air already crackled with the static of coming violence.
Joker had claimed the left corner, feet up, flicking cards between her fingers like she was shuffling fate itself. “We hit the laundromats first,” she said, voice loud over the din. “He moves cash through there, and his old man’s pride couldn’t take a public hit.”
Spade, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, looked like she’d been up for three days straight and was ready to kill her own reflection. “Laundry’s a distraction. The real money’s on the Strip. We burn his flagship restaurant, he’ll scramble to cover, and we get a chance to cut his next move off at the knees.”
Glitz banged a fist on the table, scattering comp slips and coins. “Don’t be idiots. The Strip is crawling with cops and tourists. We’d get hit by Metro before we made it through the kitchen.”
Nines, silent until then, popped a USB stick into her battered laptop and angled the screen so we could all see. “Doesn’t matter. Both sites have private security, but I mapped their comms. They were coordinated. If you made noise at one, the other locked down in ninety seconds.” She tapped the map, blue veins lighting up across Las Vegas. “We need a third front. Something nobody expected.”
The room hummed. I felt the adrenaline, the focus, the collective need for payback turning every second into a razor. I took the head of the table and leaned in.
“We hit all three,” I said. “Joker and Aces, take the laundromats. Spade, you and Tempest hit the restaurant, but don’t torch it. Just scare the hell out of them and ruin a few months of profit. Glitz, you run counter-surveillance, jam the phones, and prep the getaway cars. Nines, you ghost their security while we’re inside. I want zero civilian injuries and no fatalities unless they start it.”
I glanced at Stephanie, and she nodded her approval. She then left the club, leaving me to manage what she trusted me to manage.
Joker grinned, savage. “Finally, something fun.”
Spade just nodded, the edges of her mouth twitching up.
Glitz chewed the end of a pencil, scowling but already texting someone for supplies.
I looked to Nines, who never showed emotion, but she tapped her keyboard as if she were counting down to a bomb.
“Questions?” I asked, voice flat.
Joker raised a hand. “What about Zeke?”
The room went silent. I felt my spine prickle.
“Fuck Zeke,” Spade spat. “He’s Jack’s muscle. He’ll cave when it counts.”
But I remembered his face, the lines of regret and rage, and the way he looked at me like I was the only person in town who could out-hate him. “We’ll handle Zeke if he shows.”
