“Yes?”

   Brody Dalton jogged up to me. I slid my hand into my dress pocket, my fingers curling around the silverstone knife inside, ready to whip out the blade, ram it into the giant’s throat, pick up my skirts, and run, run, run.

   Brody stopped, his cheeks flushed from the cold. He must not have had time to visit that Air healer again ­because his nose was still a red, broken, lumpy knot in his face from Tucker’s beating. Good.

   “What do you think you’re doing, making me walk all the way over here?” he snapped. “You should have come over to me the second that I yelled at you. Don’t you know who I am?”

   Even though I wanted to punch him in the face, I ducked my head in apology. “I’m so sorry, sir. I just didn’t hear you at first above all the crowd noise.”

   Brody gave me a suspicious look, like he didn’t believe me, but apparently he had other things to worry about. He raised his hand, and I realized that he was holding a thick stack of papers. He peeled a sheet off the top and shoved it into my free hand. It was a copy of my Wanted poster.

   “Here. Carry this with you at all times,” he snapped again. “And if you see this woman, you text Roxy or me immediately with her location. Do you understand?”

   “Yes, sir.” I ducked my head again, as though I were studying my own picture. “What did she do?”

   “She’s a shoplifter and a pickpocket, among other things,” the giant growled. “Now get out there and mingle like you’re supposed to, and keep a sharp eye out for this one.”

   I bobbed my head at him. “Yes, sir. I’ll get right on that.”

   Brody gave me another suspicious look, probably because of my syrupy-sweet tone, but he huffed, whirled around, and stomped away. I watched him for a few seconds, but all he did was stop every worker he passed, shove one of my Wanted posters at them, and demand that they be on the lookout for me.

   The giant hadn’t realized that he’d had me within arm’s reach. He was going to pay for that later. I would make sure of it.

   But right now, I had two jobs—get the jewels and find out where Finn, Bria, and Owen were being held. So I rolled up my second Wanted poster and slipped it inside my pocket right next to the first one. Then I upped the wattage on my smile, turned around, and melted into the crowd of tourists.

   * * *

   It took me thirty minutes to work my way from Main Street up the hill to the hotel, mostly because people kept stopping me and asking me to pose for pictures. I hated every single second of it, but it was my job as an unofficial Bullet Pointe saloon girl, and I didn’t want any of the tourists complaining and drawing unwanted attention to me. So I batted my lashes, swished my skirts, and smiled for all the photos. By the time I reached the hotel, my cheeks were aching from holding on to my fake sunny expression for so long.

   I slipped into the lobby and stopped, wondering if I would stand out more here than I had in the theme park, but my saloon-girl dress was close enough to the ones that the hotel waitresses wore for me to pass muster. An empty silver tray was sitting on the corner of the bar, and I casually walked over and swiped it when the bartender’s back was turned. People with empty trays always looked like they had places to be, and no one gave me a second glance as I strolled across the lobby, despite the loud click-click-click-click of my heels on the stone floor.

   I followed a waitress back into the kitchen, not only because I wanted to blend in with the rest of the staff, but also because I wanted to eavesdrop on the workers. One of them had to know where Tucker was holding Finn, Bria, and Owen. So I pushed through the double doors, stepped into the kitchen, and immediately regretted my decision.

   Roxy was here.

   She was wearing the same cowgirl costume as before, complete with her red hat and sparkling rhinestone belt buckle. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and she was pacing up and down in front of a line of cooks, cowboy waiters, and saloon-girl waitresses. The waitress in front of me scurried to get in line with everyone else, and I had no choice but to follow her.

   Roxy finally stopped pacing and raised her hand, clutching another stack of my Wanted posters. How many of those things had they printed up in the last two hours? I hid a grin. I was starting to like this whole wanted-­outlaw thing.

   “This woman is somewhere on the resort grounds, and we are going to find her,” Roxy barked out like a drill sergeant. “From this moment on, you will examine every single guest you serve and compare them to this woman. If you spot her, then you text me immediately with her location. Do you understand me?”

   No one said anything, so she increased the volume of her bellow. “Do you understand me?”

   “Yes, ma’am!” we all shouted in unison.

   She went down the line of us, shoving a Wanted poster into every person’s hands. Not only that, but she looked over each and every worker in turn, eyeing everything from their hats to their costumes to their boots. I started sweating, and not from the heat of the stoves.

   If she recognized me, I was dead.

   I couldn’t fight my way through all the people in this cramped, crowded space, much less get past Roxy herself before she pumped me full of Fire-coated bullets. The workers would all pile on top of me, drag me down to the floor, and hold me there until Roxy could summon Tucker to deal with me. Then I’d either be trussed up and tortured alongside my friends or be killed outright.

   But I couldn’t run away. Not now when she was shoving a poster into my hands. Roxy started to turn away, then stopped and peered at me with sharp, critical eyes. My free hand slid into my dress pocket, reaching for my knife again. I’d only have one chance to take her down, and I had to make it count—

   Roxy stepped forward, took hold of my dress, and actually yanked it down, showing off more of my cleavage. My spider rune necklace shifted inside the corset, swimming up toward the top, and I immediately quit breathing, not wanting the necklace to pop out and give me away.

   “You can afford to show a little more skin,” Roxy snapped. “That’s what gets you—and me—better tips. Do you understand?”