Page 55 of Scarred Souls

She was happy to see him. I didn’t like it.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“None of your goddamn business.” She turned to leave, but I grabbed her wrist.

I tugged her toward me. “While I’m here keeping you safe, everything about you is my business. I won’t ask again. Who is he?”

“Enrique. He’s a friend, so leave him alone, okay? I mean it.”

Fucking Enrique. The chump who’d been nonstop messaging Hope before I’d blocked him in her phone.

He spoke with Mari at the bar while casting furtive glances in our direction, narrowing his eyes when he noticed my hold on Hope’s wrist.

Pussy. If I saw a guy with his hands on my girl, I’d put him in the hospital.

I let go of Hope, and without giving me any more sass, she went to the group at the bar. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but they interacted easily, smiling and chatting as though they knew each other well. I wondered if Hope was giving them all that bullshit story about me being her cousin.

Her fucking cousin.

That was worse than being friend zoned. After what I’d said to that waitress, maybe Hope would give them some other lie about who I was, one that didn’t include us being related.

At one point, both Hope and Enrique looked toward me before she rolled her eyes and said something that made the dipshit laugh.

I was going to murder him and scatter tiny pieces of his corpse across the country from ten thousand feet.

The group split up when Hope headed to the kitchen and Enrique and a shorter guy went down the hallway to the restroom.

I should probably do like Hope said and leave him alone, but I hadn’t followed orders since I’d gotten out of the military, and I wasn’t about to start now. When I reached the restroom door, I heard voices from within, so I waited outside to listen.

“I need you to come fishing with me next week,” one of them said.

Was it Enrique or the short guy? I couldn’t be sure.

“I don’t know, man. My dad has me helping him at the workshop every day. I’m exhausted by nine p.m.”

Someone flushed the urinal.

“That’s a shame. The nets are going to be extra heavy, if you know what I mean. You’d be able to buy that new motorcycle you want.”

I was no fisherman, but I knew one night’s catch wouldn’t be enough to afford a motorcycle. Were these extra-heavy nets the fentanyl-precursor chemicals Brandon had mentioned that fishermen along the coast were collecting?

A faucet turned on and off at the sink, then one of them pulled paper from the dispenser.

“Okay. I’ll help you out this one time.”

Their footsteps grew louder, so I positioned myself where the door would conceal me as it opened. Enrique and his buddy left the restroom none the wiser of my presence.

The question was which of Hope’s friends was coordinating the pickup. Enrique or the other clown?

I found Hope at the bar and tapped the counter. “What’s the best meal you serve here?”

She tucked a notepad into her apron. “The fish tacos are to die for.”

“Get me that. And a beer.”

As I returned to my seat, Hope muttered something about me being a rude bastard. Ten minutes later, she dropped a plate in front of me and slammed the beer bottle onto the table.

One hand landed on her cocked hip. “You know, you keep acting like everyone in this place is disrespectful, but as far as I can see, you’re the only one without any manners.”

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