Page 11 of Scarred Souls

At the sound of Big Nose’s solid body hitting the deck, Grim finally noticed what I’d done, and a look of utter disappointment crossed his features. “Oh, come on, Gatita. You’re spoiling my fun.”

I pointed toward the unconscious jerk on the floor. “He was going to murder you!”

“Pfft. Please.” Grim screwed up his face while holding a dazed and bloody Buzz against the wall. “Give me some credit. I was just getting warmed up.”

When Buzz groaned, Grim headbutted him, swiftly knocking him out. He let go of the chief wannabe’s shirt, and the man’s body slumped to the tiles.

The room fell silent except for Shades’ moaning. He was still cowering on the floor, nursing his stab wound and trembling in fear. He noticed Grim’s approach and crawled toward the door, leaving smears of blood on the tiled floor. “Get away from me!” he cried.

“Not so fast,” Grim said, then landed a kick to Shades’ gut, sending him sprawling onto his back.

Shades coughed and wheezed, his hands clutching his stomach.

“You’re not going anywhere with my lucky knife.” Grim leaned down and yanked it free from Shades’ shoulder, raising the man’s shrieks to an earsplitting level. Then he planted a heavy boot on the laceration and pinned him to the ground.

Shades’ face contorted when the fresh wave of pain assaulted him. He bucked and clawed at Grim’s leg, but to no effect.

Grim clicked his tongue. “Don’t pass out on me, now. Your buddies are taking a nap, and I have important instructions, so listen up.” He leaned over and waved the bloody blade in Shades’ face. “You’re going to bring your car out front and collect these shit bags, then you’ll leave this village and never come back.”

Shades nodded frantically.

Grim dug his boot in even harder, and a dark stain spread over the crotch of Shades’ denim shorts.

“I know what you’re doing here,” Grim said with a sneer. “I strongly suggest you pick another village to do business in. And you might want to think twice about telling your boss what happened here tonight, although if you really want to explain how you let one gringo beat up all four of you, then be my guest. But if you ever show your faces here again, I’ll make what just happened feel like a ride on the teacups at Disneyland. Understood?”

Snot leaked from Shades’ nose as his wails continued. “Christ, man. You’re fucking crazy!”

Grim stood, removed his boot from Shades, and let a proud smile spread over his full lips. “Thank you.” Then he wiped the knife clean on the back of his jeans, flipped it in the air like some death-defying circus performer, and slotted it back into the sheath at his hip.

I didn’t know whether I was terrified, turned on, or completely in awe of my tattooed savior. Possibly all three. Although Shades was right. Grim was fucking crazy.

Shades staggered to his feet, one arm hanging limp, and made a hasty exit.

Then a firm hand clamped around my ankle and yanked, sending me off-balance. As I fell backward, my head cracked against something hard.

And everything went black.

4

VAUGHN

Gonzo was fucking dead.

“Well now you’ve gone and done it,” I growled, and hauled the stocky bastard to his feet.

Him tripping the little brunette and the sickening sound of her head hitting the bar on her way down had flipped a switch in me, so now he had to pay. Except Brandon’s annoying words replayed in the back of my mind.

Try not to kill anyone.

Why did my Zulu brother always make such unreasonable demands of me?

Unfortunately, in this instance, he was right. If I slaughtered these dumbasses, the cartel would come looking for payback, and that would land Gatita and her village in a world of trouble. Letting them live also posed a risk, but my guess was that they were earning their cartel stripes, so if they blabbed about having their asses handed to them, they’d lose street cred. No cartel fledgling wanted that.

So I wouldn’t kill these clowns. But Brandon had never mentioned anything about messing anyone up.

I dragged Gonzo to the bar, slammed his palm onto the counter, and stabbed my lucky knife through the back of the hand that had dared touch Gatita, pinning him to the surface like one of those insects in a display box.

That shook off Gonzo’s lingering grogginess, because the dipshit screamed like a banshee.

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