Free Pretty Reckless (Entangled Ignite) by Jodi Linton

hit the button and heard airplanes rumbling in the background, then Nathan’s voice telling me he’d landed safely and would call back later. I peeled off my smelly clothes, ditched the dingy things in the mud room, and sprinted up the stairs butt naked. The warm water hit my face, washing down my grimy cheeks. I shampooed my hair twice, ran a loofa over all my nooks and crannies—scrubbing especially earnestly under my arms—and then turned off the water. I pulled on an old and worn pair of denim jeans, shrugged a white tank top over my head, and stepped into my favorite pair of red cowboy boots that I’d had since high school. Then I poured myself a tall glass of sweet tea and grabbed my sunglasses and headed out the back door.
    My garden was an abomination. I had spaded the land between the backdoor and the shed five years back, hoping to make gardening my hobby after Gunner left me.
    I snuffed out that unpleasant memory with a quick gulp of tea and unlatched the broken gate. The white picket fence squaring off the patch of plowed land had fallen. Weeds had started to encroach upon the crusty soil. I squatted and picked at a flaky carrot leaf popping from the dirt that was still parched even after this morning’s downpour. It immediately crumbled in my hand.
    I swatted a fly from my glass, picked up the hand rake, and started chipping away at the soil. It was a chunky, stubborn mess, sending rocks and dirt clods up into my face. The scorching sun beat down on my back. My tank top melted to my skin. I wiped my brow and moved my way through the uneven path of the garden. It felt cathartic getting to hack away at what was left of my pathetic patch. This whole damn case was a frustrating surprise. Nothing was adding up. First, there were a couple of dozen dead cows. On top of that, a dead boy. And then, like there wasn’t enough on the shit pile, Gunner seemed to believe that the outbreak of ketamine in this area was somehow linked back to drug dealers in Houston. I needed to get a handle on this case fast. I tossed the rack aside at the end of my battle with the garden. From the looks of it, I think the cracked dirt won. The rows were uneven and jagged, and I’d sort of uprooted the only vegetable that’d sprouted.
    I smeared my dirty hands on my jeans and took a seat in a nearby lawn chair. The Mason jar dangled from my fingertips as the sunrays pierced through the tinted lenses of my sunglasses. I was just on the verge of dozing off when I heard the phone ring inside the house. I picked up the jar and headed for the porch. The screen door had just slammed shut behind me when my phone went off again. It was Dobbs.
    “Laney, I need you out at Horseshoe Trailer Park,” Dobbs said huffily.
    I groaned. “What’s it this time?” I asked.
    “Skinny Picket’s barricaded himself inside his trailer,” Dobbs replied. “Can you be here in five?”
    Well, knock me over with a feather. What luck. I wasn’t surprised by Skinny going all bat shit crazy and locking himself in his trailer. It was a weekly event in the Horseshoe Trailer Park, but I was surprised Dobbs had taken the call instead of sending Elroy to corral the mess. Maybe he’d stumbled across some new information. Maybe Skinny had slipped up and given us the lead we were all waiting for.
    Hoping this wouldn’t be some crazy-ass, wild goose chase, I said “Sure,” and hung up.
    I grabbed my keys and clipped my 9mm to the back of my jeans. The smooth, leather-covered clip rubbed the small of my back as I locked the door and headed out.

Chapter Five
    Horseshoe Trailer Park was on the south side of town directly across from the railroad tracks. About half the residents of Pistol Rock called the park home. The trailers were dented up pieces of scrap metal purchased back in the sixties by a guy named Hunter Beard. He’d never been known to do much for the place expect tape up eviction notices when rent was a day late. Tattered clothes lines ran from one