Page 49 of Property of Whiskey

That question lands too close to every reason the Kings have spent months sniffing around Pearly Gates.

She takes one careful step closer. “How many girls?”

“Not doing this.”

“How many girls have the Kings moved through here?”

Kaylee makes a small sound.

Twila’s gun doesn’t waver.

“There ain’t girls moving through here because of us.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because somebody said she was.”

“Who?”

“Can’t tell you.”

She lets out one short laugh. “No shit.”

“Twila.”

“Don’t use my name like we’re friends.”

“Fine. Deputy Pain-In-My-Ass.”

Despite everything, one corner of my mouth almost moves. Woman’s insane.

“Put the gun down.”

“Not happening.”

“Kaylee needs medical help more than you need an arrest.”

“She needs an ambulance.”

“Don’t call one.”

That is the wrong thing to say.

Twila’s expression goes flat. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know who’ll show up.”

“You mean besides cops?”

“I mean exactly that.”

“You expect me to believe county law is somehow the danger here while you’re standing on Pearly Gates property with a missing girl bleeding on your bike?”

“I expect you to have enough sense to realize shit ain’t always what it looks like.”

“I’ve got a biker covered in blood telling me not to call cops.”

She jerks her chin toward Kaylee without taking her sights off me, the move pure cop even while the accusation feels personal.