I pushed the flaps of fabric aside. A white bandage was wrapped around my upper left arm, tied off with a neat little knot. I flexed my fist and moved my arm and shoulder. A little stiffness and pain, but nothing that I couldn’t handle. I looked around and spotted two empty tins of Jo-Jo’s healing ointment sitting on top of the dresser along the wall. Ira must have found them in my jacket pockets, realized what they were, and used them on the Fire burns and bullet holes that Roxy had put in my arm.

   Even more important, all five of my silverstone knives were laid out in a row on the dresser. Ira must have removed them, along with my boots and jacket, to make me more comfortable. But I felt naked without my knives, so I got up and slid them back into their usual slots—one against the small of my back, two up my sleeves, and two tucked into my boots.

   I opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the main part of the cabin, which was a living room, dining room, and kitchen all rolled into one. A larger fireplace took up most of one wall, flanked by a green couch with colorful blankets folded across the back. Two small tables at either end of the couch featured lamps shaped like cowboy boots, and other Western-themed knickknacks adorned the rest of the space. But the effect was charming, rather than garish, as it had been in Roxy’s office, and best of all, no dead animals were anywhere in sight.

   Still more pictures adorned the walls in this part of the cabin, while cameras, lenses, memory cards, and other photography equipment covered the dining-room table, along with several stacks of papers. But the mess was limited to that one table instead of filling up the entire cabin. Ira Morris was a bit neater in his personal space than in his cramped hotel office.

   The dwarf was pacing back and forth from the front door of the cabin, through the living room, and all the way to the kitchen in the back. My cell phone was clamped to his ear, and his face was twisted into an annoyed expression.

   “Listen, mister,” Ira growled again, “I’ve told you and told you that your friend is fine. It’s not my fault that she got shot and drugged and can’t talk to you right now.”

   From the phone, I could hear Silvio’s sharp, demanding tone, if not his exact words.

   Ira stopped. “You’re going to come down here and pull my guts out through my nose? Really?” He snickered. “You and what army, hotshot?”

   “Oh, I wouldn’t make it a challenge,” I said. “Silvio is quite dangerous when you get him riled up.”

   Ira pivoted on his bootheel to face me. Surprise flashed in his dark hazel eyes, as though he hadn’t expected me to be up and about just yet. Then he scowled, stalked forward, and slapped my phone into my hand.

   “Here,” he said. “You deal with that nut. He’s called fifty times in the last hour, despite me telling him that you were unconscious.”

   I grinned. “He’s rather persistent that way.”

   Ira huffed, ambled away, and plopped down in one of the rocking chairs by the fireplace.

   I raised the phone to my ear. “Hello, Silvio.”

   “Gin!” my assistant shouted. “Where are you? I’ve been worried sick! That imbecile wouldn’t let me talk to you, and Finn, Bria, and Owen aren’t picking up their phones.”

   “Shh,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Quiet voice, please. I have a pounding headache.”

   Whatever sedative Roxy and Brody had slipped into my sweet tea had been a doozy. Finn, Bria, and Owen would no doubt wake up with splitting migraines, since they’d drunk so much more of it than I had.

   If they woke up at all.

   Worry twisted my stomach, but I forced myself to push the emotion away. Tucker thought that Finn might know where Deirdre had hidden the jewels. He wouldn’t kill my friends until he was absolutely certain that they didn’t know anything. Torture them, yes. Kill them, no.

   Not yet, anyway.

   “Why do you have a headache?” Silvio asked in a much lower, calmer voice. “What’s going on?”

   “Let’s just say that our Wild West vacation has gotten a little wilder than any of us expected.”

   I filled Silvio in on everything that had happened. When I finished, the vampire was silent, and I didn’t hear him typing away on his keyboard as usual.

   “Do you have any idea where the jewels are hidden?” Silvio said. “I hate to point this out, but those gems are the only bit of leverage you have right now.”

   “Oh, I know exactly where they are.”

   Ira’s head snapped around, and surprise filled his eyes again. I shrugged back at him. I did know where they were hidden. I should have known all along, the first second that I’d set eyes on them, but I’d been too caught up in my memories, melancholy, and heartache about my mother to notice them.

   “So what’s the plan?” Silvio asked. “What do you want me to do?”

   “Load up some supplies. My kind of supplies—guns, knives, ammo, healing ointment, the works, and drive down here. I know that Jo-Jo and Sophia are busy showing off the salon on that holiday tour of homes today, but see if you can find someone else to come with you and watch your back.”

   “Got it. Anything else?”

   I looked over at Ira. “Except for Mr. Morris, we have to assume that every single person who works at the hotel and theme park is in on this in some way, and that they know all about us, including who you are and what you look like. They might not work for Tucker, Roxy, and Brody directly, but they’re probably too scared of them not to rat you out the second they see you. So you need some sort of disguise. See if Roslyn Phillips can lend you something.”

   “Roger that,” Silvio said. “I’ll see if I can borrow someone else’s car too. Just in case Tucker and the rest of the Circle have marked our usual vehicles as well.”

   “Good idea.”

   “What do you want me to do once I’m down there?”