Focus. One thing at a time. Find Nate. Get Mom. Get out of the soul magic business. Like it was that easy.
Adam’s eyes widened when he caught sight of Callie and Derek across El Paseo, but he didn’t bolt. Hell, from this distance Callie couldn’t say the guy had even tensed. His shoulder was angled away from them, but his eyes tracked their movements when they crossed the street. Anxiety prickled beneath Callie’s sternum.
“Didn’t figure the Soul Charmer’s crew needed to hit a corner,” Adam said as way of greeting. His eyes would have been a bright green if the ghastly film of frequent soul renting hadn’t already begun encroaching on his irises.
Callie shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. She found the flask on the right, and squeezed it. The obsidian inlay pressed against her bared skin took the edge off the chill of Adam’s ragged soul. Didn’t do shit about the sleet pinging against her back, though.
Derek edged closer to Adam. Her windbreak gone, more icy pellets came at her side, but he also was between her and the dealer. “Ain’t here to buy.”
Adam shuffled a half step away, but turned to fully face them. “You sure? Your girl looks pretty uptight.”
A laugh punched her gut. No one of the opposite sex had ever suggested she was a prude, but if she was, what the fuck business of it was his? Derek tried to grumble over the sound, but there wasn’t a need.
“I don’t need your shitty ass molly, but thanks for the offer,” she said.
Adam cast a quick glance toward Dougie’s corner. The other dealer was doing his damnedest not to look their way. Dougie didn’t want to get in trouble. So there must be something to get in trouble over. Score one for the stake out.
“Then what do you need? I’m here to sell.”
“Do I look like a cop? I’m not gonna scare off your business.” Derek’s words were casual, but with each word he edged a little closer to Adam.
The dealer was almost as tall as Derek, but slender. Not the emaciated cut of a junkie, but more like a vegan kid or someone who opted for cigarettes and coffee over real food. He was a con man. The thick confidence Adam was pushing said more about his goals to move up the ranks in Ford-turned-Nate’s business. Someone didn’t plan to stay on the streets. Callie would have admired his determination if he weren’t working for the douchebag that cut off her mom’s fingers and delivered them like a holiday ham.
She couldn’t side with Adam, but playing the part was manageable. “Having us here helps your business. No one is going to hide ones in their wad of twenties while we’re here. We just make people hold up their ends of bargains and return what’s owed.”
He tugged his coat sleeve down. “I haven’t had trouble getting paid tonight.”
“I don’t care,” Derek cut in. His words were far more frigid than the sleet speeding around them.
Adam tucked his light brown hair up under a black beanie. “Then move on.” His earlier bravado now shook.
“Not yet. We need to talk to your boss.”
“Who says I have one?”
Derek’s glare was molten menace. “You make that shit at home with a mail-order chemistry set?”
“Distributors.”
Derek hooked a hand around Adam’s upper arm. The pop could have been a settling of snow beneath their feet, but the dealer’s sharp inhale suggested otherwise. “Where is he?”
Adam tried to pull away, but Derek was gargoyle still and strong and Adam was in his grasp. The dealer thrust a hand out toward Callie, and grasped at her. Derek nudged him back in time. Adam’s hand met air. Before Callie could even move, Derek had whirled his left elbow up and around to whap Adam. There was a light snap. When her boyfriend had pulled back again, Adam’s right eyebrow was split open. Blood sluiced down the side of his face, and drops clung to his eyelashes.
It looked fucking wicked, but Callie’s ER stints gave her the comfort to know that facial wounds could bleed like a bitch. Nothing was broken, and worst case he’d need a couple stitches. Old Callie would have butterflied it for him, but she wasn’t that person anymore. That person avoided being a part of seedy conversations on grimy streets with shady people.
Callie stepped forward, and spoke with all the anger churning at realizing she was no longer being the kind of person who would want to help this guy. “Want to try that again?”
He knew she didn’t mean the grab. “Nate’s off the radar.”
Derek eased up on the dealer.
“So Nate’s in charge now?” Callie needed the confirmation.
Adam clapped his hand to his forehead. Blood seeped between his fingers, but he didn’t notice. “Yeah, but he’s lying low.”
Callie met Derek’s asking glance. She didn’t need to tell him the guy was lying, but something about the trust in that look steadied her feet and let her ignore the ice tipping her fingers and the sleet poking her back.
A roar rumbled through the square. The statues across the street practically rattled with the rev of a powerful engine. Huge halogen headlights bathed the corner in blue brightness and momentarily blinded Callie. By the time her eyes adjusted, a muscle car was rolling past them with the back door wide open. Instinct put Callie on the ground. She didn’t worry about Adam or the frozen concrete. She hit the deck and prayed she’d be safe. Derek’s black boots were nearby. He still stood. She reached for his leg and pulled. He didn’t budge. Adam
