Thirty-Three and a Half Shenanigans (Rose Gardner, #6)

I moved closer to the bed, not sure if I wanted to sit on it. It hadn’t been made after its last use, and the man was sprawled over the rumpled sheets and blankets. I decided to squat at the side, and I reached over and grabbed the man’s hand, which currently lay on his pillow.

The man promptly rolled toward me, blindly reaching out for me and grabbing a handful of my hair.

“Mmm, baby,” he moaned. “I love your hair.”

My eyes flew open in alarm, but Jed freed my strands in an instant, all while I still held onto the guy’s hand. I looked up at Jed and mouthed, “Thank you.”

He nodded with a tight smile and stepped away from the bed.

I looked up at Skeeter and whispered, “What do you want me to look for?”

He squatted down next to me. “Let’s start with whatever you see, and then we can discuss whether you need to narrow it down.”

I nodded and closed my eyes, concentrating on the unconscious man. The vision came seconds later with a strong force. I was in a living room I didn’t recognize, looking at a man I didn’t know.

“That’s not how he wants it done,” I said in a deep male voice. “I’m supposed to get his schedule and turn it over. That’s it.”

“Well, things change. This is how it’s going to go down now.”

The vision ended, and I was thrust back into the bedroom with more force than usual. I fell backward on my butt, saying, “You’re gonna do it differently than he wants it done.”

Skeeter lifted me to my feet. I wobbled and almost collapsed. Sensing my weakness, Skeeter wrapped an arm around my waist and held me up. “What did you see?”

I shook my head, feeling drugged. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Tell me, and I’ll see if it makes sense to me.”

After I told him about my short vision, he shook his head. “Schedule? What schedule?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s worthless.”

I wasn’t so sure. I’d now had two visions that had left me with a bad feeling, both of which were seemingly ambiguous. What did it mean? “Then what do you want me to look for?”

“I want to know who he’s selling me out to.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

I squatted next to the bed again and held the man’s hand again, focusing on Skeeter’s question. The next vision took longer. This time I was in a room lit by a bunch of fluorescent lights in a dropped office ceiling. I sat with a group of men around a dark wood conference table. Skeeter was at the opposite end, his face contorted with fury.

“Somebody tipped off Rodriguez, and nobody’s leaving here until I figure out who it was.”

The room was deadly quiet as I hid a phone under the table and wrote a quick text. He knows.

My eyes flew open. “Someone tipped off Rodriguez, and you’re gonna text someone.”

I glanced up at Skeeter, whose eyes had turned murderous. “So there is a traitor.” He pointed to the man in the bed. “Is it him?”

I stood and whispered. “I don’t know, but he hid his phone under the table and texted He knows to someone.” I shook my head in confusion. “I think you were in a conference room. A bunch of you were sitting around a table.”

“Anything else?”

“You said you weren’t going to let anyone leave until you figured out who’d tipped him off. And I think it was night time.”

“Did you recognize anyone else who was there?”

I closed my eyes, trying to recall more details. “Jed and Merv were with you. I didn’t recognize anyone else.”

He was silent for a moment. “Okay, we’re done here.” He led me out to the living room with Jed following behind us. Skeeter picked up the handkerchief and lifted it, but I stopped him before he could put it around my eyes.

“Wait. I need to ask you something.”

A grin teased his lips. “Okay.”

“Do you know the strippers at the Bunny Ranch?”

Skeeter burst out laughing. “What?”

I’d been thinking about it all afternoon. Mud wanted to put the Bunny Ranch out of business because of who owned it. Skeeter already admitted there were unsavory characters determined to bring him down. Skeeter had his hands in all kinds of endeavors, and he seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn’t bat an eye about associating himself with a strip club. In fact, he probably found his dates there. “You own it, don’t you?”

He looked amused. “I do.”

“There was a girl who worked there. Dolly Parton. Do you remember her?”

He shook his head. “Was that her stage name?”

“No. But she goes by Sapphire at Gems.”

His eyes narrowed. “Gems? They’re trying to put me out of business.”

That squared with what Sparkle had told me. “What are they doin’?”

“They didn’t need to do much more than open their doors. There’s not enough business to support two clubs. There’s hardly enough to cover one.”

“So why would they have opened up in the first place?”

“Good question.” He looked like he knew something he wasn’t sharing. Not that it was any of my business. He grinned. “You lookin’ for a job? I’ve got another way to put you on the payroll without you resorting to dancing on men’s laps.”

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