That shit was not okay.
Ignoring the cashier ringing up my basket of purchases, my unyielding stare remained locked on the mystery woman. Her erratic gaze moved everywhere but my direction.
It didn’t sit right with me.
As stupid as it sounds, I wanted her to look up, wanted her to look my way. I’d only gotten a quick peek at her when she first walked in, and I needed to see her face better. “Come on, sweetheart,” I mumbled between jaw clenches. “Look at me.”
To my disappointment, she didn’t.
“That will be twenty dollars and fifty-seven cents.” Without tearing my eyes from her, I handed the cashier two twenties, took my bag, and waited for my change.
After it was placed in my hand, I tucked it, along with my wallet, back into my rear pocket.
Leaning a single hip against the counter, I looked over at the kid running the register and nodded toward the woman who wasn’t paying me a bit of attention.
“Do you know who she is?”
“Nah, but I know she comes in here a lot. Mostly buys candy and condoms.”
I blinked, convinced I’d misunderstood him somehow. “What?”
“Skittles and Reese’s. That’s what she buys. That and Trojans. Always Trojans. No other brand,” he said, shrugging. “Sometimes she comes in with another girl, younger, around my age. Red hair, freckles.” He whistled to himself, then smiled. “Baby girl is hot. She can get what I’m carrying anytime. Know what I’m saying?”
He has got to be shitting me.
“No, I don’t know what you’re saying,” I replied, irritated as hell. “I don’t speak fuck-face.” The kid’s eyes flared. “But here’s a helpful tip, one your daddy should’ve taught you long ago.” Grappling to keep my temper in check, I paused. “Show some respect before someone knocks you the hell out.”
“I didn’t—”
“If it had been my daughter you just talked about that way, you’d be picking your teeth up off the damned floor.”
I may have sworn off violence, but when it came to defending women, my daughter and future daughter-in-law in particular, there were exceptions.
Major ones.
Then again, if the little shit had spoken that way about my girl, she would’ve knocked him out herself before anyone else could.
My girl didn’t play.
Neither did Hendrix.
Both of my kids were hotheads.
Wonder where they get that from?
The bell above the door caught my attention as it chimed, announcing either someone’s arrival or departure. I turned toward it, catching sight of the mystery woman as she headed for the exit an older man had just left through.
Move your ass, Cole…
Now is your chance.
Without saying another word to the dumbass standing behind the counter, I headed for the door, intent on intercepting the woman. But when less than three feet separated her from me, she turned, taking me by surprise.
Eyes on the floor and not watching where she was going, she slammed right into me before I had a chance to step out of the way.
Almost losing my bag, I circled my arms around her petite frame, stopping the inevitable tumble she was about to take.
“Dios mío!” she squealed, her silky voice accented. Fingers gripping the back of my belt for dear life, she steadied herself before dropping her head back and peering up at me. “Lo siento,” she said, nearly out of breath. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and—”
“You alright?” I asked, still holding her.
She nodded, and the force of the movement caused her coat to fall open, exposing her neck and the top of her dress-covered chest.
In an instant, my anger flared.
“What the hell happened to you?” I asked, fixated on the deep bruises circling her throat and trailing down to her left clavicle, which was way too prominent. When was the last time she ate? “Better yet, just tell me who hurt you.”
If it was a man, I’d end up in jail.
As I said before, women were exceptions to my no violence rule—especially ones as petite as the one I still held, her frail body trembling in my arms.
With one hard hit, she’d break.
That shit was not okay.
It didn’t matter that she reeked of Jack‚ a smell I’d recognize anywhere, or that her pupils were pinned, a clear sign that she was addicted to something stronger than whiskey.
She was a human being.
And she deserved compassion.
Jerking free of my arms, she yanked her coat closed. Confident that she was only wearing it to hide her injuries since it was hotter than Satan’s kitchen outside, I was tempted to rip the thing right off her.
Looking back now, I should’ve done it.
“Not your concern, pendejo,” she spat, her tone full of attitude. “So mind your own business, si?”
Shooting me a scathing look, one that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than disdain, she turned and stomped off like a pissed-off toddler, not waiting for me to reply.
Not that I knew what to say. Because I sure as shit didn’t. But what I did know was that watching her go caused my head and heart to wage war with one another.
Everything inside my chest demanded I chase after her, to make sure she was safe, and to ensure that she wasn’t stuck in a bad situation, one which I could pull her out of if she needed me to.
On the other hand, my mind replayed the words she’d spoken as it tried to convince me to leave the situation alone and walk away. She hadn’t wanted my help, had even told me to mind my business, so it was her problem, right?
Wrong.
I didn’t have a lot of talents in life, but one I did possess was reading people. And that woman, the beautiful little spitfire who’d called me an asshole in the same native tongue as my mother’s before storming off?
She needed help.
Real bad.
Refusing to ignore my gut feeling—something life had taught me never to do—I headed for the door.
But after two
