Page 25 of Scarred Souls

New plan: address whatever Vaughn had come here for and send him on his way as quickly as possible.

Titan wasn’t the prettiest of dogs, but Vaughn didn’t seem to mind that my baby had one eyeball and half an ear missing. The many scars through his short black hair made Titan look like a brawler. He wasn’t. My sweet boy had been used as bait to train pit dogs, and despite the mistreatment he’d faced, he was a lover, not a fighter. Daphne had rescued him only days before I’d arrived, and she’d nursed us both back to health. I’d taken longer to recover than Titan, and he’d been by my side every step of the way. What a messed-up pair we were.

While Vaughn continued loving on Titan, my dog wagged his tail and looked at me with his content face as if rubbing it in.

Traitor.

He never reacted this way to men. When Enrique came by, Titan would raise his hackles, lower his tail, and give him a wide berth. But he was comfortable around Vaughn. Did my dog have the same lack of self-preservation as me? We were both idiots.

I wiped my wet hands on my denim shorts and met Vaughn by the truck. “Hey.”

He wore the same black clothes as yesterday, and his mussed hair made me think he’d been dragging his hands through it all night.

Or someone else’s hands have been clutching those inky locks.

There were a couple of sex workers in town who took customers at late hours. Maybe he’d been with one of them all night. Why did that image sit like sour milk curdling in my gut?

Vaughn didn’t greet me in return. He just folded those big arms across his chest and leveled me with his dark stare. “We need to talk.”

Okay. Someone wasn’t a morning person.

The front door opened, and Daphne arrived on the porch with her favorite shotgun casually slung over her shoulder. She reminded me of a Wild West sheriff eyeing the suspicious newcomer in town. Her hard stare never left Vaughn as she limped down the steps and leaned against a timber post.

Jesus Christ.

An overprotective Dee wouldn’t make a conversation with Grim go any smoother.

“Talk about what?” I asked.

“About why I came to Playa de la Palmera.”

I frowned. “I thought you said you were just passing through?”

“I lied. I’m investigating drug-related activity in coastal villages.”

Drug-related activity. I had to assume he referred to the only cartel that moved product in this part of the country. My father’s.

My fingers and toes tingled, and my muscles tensed. I willed my body to back down from its fight-or-flight response, because Vaughn was wily enough to notice. I didn’t want to give him any reason to believe his statement made me uptight.

Besides, he couldn’t know who I was. If he did, he would’ve said something last night. No. He would’ve tossed me into the back of his truck and taken me when he’d had the chance. We were talking, weren’t we? That should be evidence enough that he wasn’t here to kidnap me.

Calm down. Take a breath.

I glanced toward Daphne. She wasn’t doing as good a job as me at hiding her alarm at Vaughn’s admission.

Grim’s jaw ticced, and his eyes remained locked on mine like he was waiting for something. My reaction, I figured. Did he think I was involved with drugs? Ridiculous.

“I already told you,” I said. “There isn’t any drug activity in Playa de la Palmera.”

He lowered his chin. “Are you sure about that?”

Behind me, Daphne’s feet shuffled as she came closer, but I kept my eyes on Vaughn. He didn’t seem convinced by my answer.

I folded my arms. “What are you? A cop? DEA?” Although that was hard to believe given the reckless way he’d intervened at the restaurant last night. And he sure as hell didn’t look like any cop I’d ever seen.

“No. I’m a private contractor.”

Vague.

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