Page 39 of Severed By Vengeance

“Pretty much both.”

She pursed her lips, finally twisting to survey me from top to bottom. The weight of her perusal steeled through me and settled southbound.

“Well, you seem to be well-dressed. Who does your shopping, then?”

“Are you asking me if there’s a woman in my life who picks out my clothes?”

She shook her head and laughed. “That’s a little pretentious, Derek. It’s simply a valid follow-up question to your statement.”

“Okay, I’ll play along.” Her laughter was contagious. And, against my better judgment, I decided I wanted to hear more of it. “No, I don’t have anyone who shops for me. Said I wasn’t a fan, not that I didn’t buy my own clothes.”

“Fair enough. Well, I’m impressed. You look… really good. Your clothes, I mean.”

I’d opened my mouth to say something inappropriate, but Evangelina had already taken off toward a tent tended by an older woman with cropped hair and a bright yellow jacket. They greeted each other with a hug, and the woman, every bit the grandmotherly type, immediately noticed Eva’s bruise and cracked lip.

“What happened,Mija?” she gasped, tilting her chin to get a better look. Her dark eyes instantly flew to me, and a reproachful look pinched her aged features.

“On the job, Carmen. It’s not what you’re thinking,” Eva said, as if reading her thoughts.

Despite Evangelina’s reassurance, the edge in her expression remained in place.

“Carmen, did Rayne come see you today?”

The woman nodded solemnly. “She came by to tell me she’ll be gone for a while.”

Eva gripped her by the shoulders. “Did she say where she was going?”

“No, but her face was bruised up… kind of like yours. Eva, what’s going on?”

Eva blew out a puff of air. “I’d rather you not get involved.”

The woman was silent before her features creased in my direction. “And who is he?”

Evangelina turned and met my eyes. “He’s… he’s a friend, Carmen. And he’s helping me find Rayne.”

Carmen touched the bruise below Eva’s eye. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. Most people made assumptions about me based on my tattoos, the way I dressed, and the don’t-fuck-with-me expression that lived on my face. I was used to it. But I didn’t appreciate her scrutiny in front of Eva or the fact that she was whispering into her ear in Spanish. No doubt some warning about me. I wasn’t fluent, but I knew enough to understand her advice about making decisions with her head and not by what was between her legs—even though I looked good enough to eat.

Her words. Not mine.

Evangelina’s cheeks flushed pink, and she leaned into the taller woman, responding so quickly in Spanish that I couldn’t keep up.

Once they said their goodbyes, we’d only walked about five feet before a heavy-set man in a long black coat approached Carmen’s tent. He growled her name through clenched teeth and charged forward, trapping the scared woman against a steel post.

Evangelina darted toward them before I could stop her, rounding the small white table and placing herself between Carmen and a soon-to-be-dead man.

“Hey! Leave her alone.”

Redirecting his anger, the man pointed a finger just inches from her face, teeth gnashing together.

I clenched my fists as I fantasized about using his severed hand as a chaser for his teeth.

Eva squared her shoulders in what looked like a silent challenge—a dare for him to make his move. Little did she know he’d never get that close.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“Lady, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you better move aside before I move you.”

I tightened the strap on my gloves. “You so much as touch her….” I clamped down on my jaw before Eva heard the vile promises clawing up my throat.