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necklace was a start, and it brought a smile to her face.
    Turning, she surveyed her little retreat. Here, she had some control over her life. Some space. There was the Alabama State University poster that Rowan had given her to keep her motivated, the world map from her kindergarten teacher for inspiration, the Indian dream catcher she bought herself at the State Park for hopes. There was a Justin Bieber poster too, for no good reason. Moving slowly, Lacy knelt on her bed and held up her new treasures, moving Rowan’s letter and postcard around the wall until she picked the perfect place for them. Satisfied, she reached to her nightstand for tape and fixed them up on the wall over the head of her bed. That way, she could read them as she was falling asleep.
    Sleep. That sounded wonderful. Curling up, Lacy rubbed her fingers over her new necklace and let her eyelids flutter shut. As consciousness faded, she could almost hear Rowan and her laughing together, running down a sun mottled path in the prairie grass, the remembered sound mingling with birdsong and wind in the pines and the faint beating of tiny wings.

CHAPTER SIX

    Miles and worlds away the older Thomas girl was also staring at her reflection in disbelief, not only utterly powerless to detect the comforting family resemblance to her little sister but also at a complete loss to find even a resemblance to herself. The image she saw before her in the looking-glass was not the scrappy daughter of alcoholic, codependent parents from a trailer park in the southern coastal boonies of Alabama; she was not an overscheduled, high-performing academic in a competitive graduate program; she was not even a polished, professional casino dealer.
    The woman before her in the mirror was a total stranger, glamorous and mysterious, of whom one could believe just about anything. It was as if she had stepped out of a poster for a spy film. She was a construct of hours of group effort; Lola and Valeria, pressed by their loyalty to the Ruiners, had grudgingly set up camp in Bronson’s suite at the Encore and waxed, plucked, powdered, and pulled as only master shape-shifters can. Hours later, Rowan was somewhat exhausted but amazed with the results of their expertise.
    Now, as the biker women stood behind her to assess and complete the final touches, Rowan for the first time believed that this crazy, dangerous plan of theirs was going to work. It would work because now she wasn’t just Rowan Thomas recklessly throwing herself at fate; now she had the benefit of a partner who could offer his street smarts, worldliness, and best of all, protection to the venture.
    Bronson Ramsey’s intersection into her life just might be the turning point. For the first time, as Rowan looked at herself in the mirror, she saw a woman whose poise and appearance promised she would get away with any crime, bring all men to their knees, and even pull a trigger if push came to shove. Rowan smoothed down the tightly fitted dress and couldn’t help admiring the way it clung. She had never worn anything so expensive or sexy. The sight filled her with confidence and another feeling even subtler, more delicate, more important: hope.
    In her bumpy life, Rowan had learned through bitter disappointment after disappointment that there was no one to catch her when she stumbled, no safety net; it was all up to her. The support that is the natural duty of all parents had never existed for her. She had matured quickly, aware of the dual need to protect her baby sister and push herself forward out of a bad situation. She could barely remember a time in her childhood that she wasn’t worried about stretching food stamps, the cost of gasoline, or applying for government programs. She never really had new shoes—last year’s flip-flops always had to work until they fell apart.
    Of course, there had been pockets of kindness and encouragement here and there—once in a blue moon a teacher, a classmate, or a co-worker had