A feral growl filtered into her ears as Cory’s friend said, “What the fuck?” His hand slipped away from her lips. She opened her eyes and saw a looming mass of a man standing a couple feet away from her. She guessed him to be six-four, and his shaved head shone in the sunlight. He had a bushy brown beard, plugs in his earlobes, and sported two sleeves of colored tats. Licks of ink rode up his throat from under the neck of his muscle shirt.
Without warning, he yanked Cory off her in one fluid movement, his massive arms shaking him as though he were a ragdoll. Cory swung his arms aimlessly but didn’t land a punch on the tatted Goliath. Tyler ran to his aid, and when he landed a fist in the tatted Goliath’s side, the man threw Cory to the ground and backhanded Tyler so hard that he stumbled and fell on his ass.
“Where the fuck are you, Diablo?” a husky voice asked.
“Here,” the man answered as he bent over and dragged Cory to his feet.
Coming around the corner, Raven sucked in her breath as Muerto appeared. She sat up and brought her hands to her heated cheeks as he looked at her, then at Diablo, and finally at Cory, suspended a few inches off the ground, his neck in Diablo’s hand. A gasp escaped her when she spotted Tyler approaching Diablo with a steel pipe. Without a word, Muerto jumped in, kicking the pipe out of his hands and landing several hard punches to the man’s face and stomach. Diablo threw Cory back on the ground and kicked him hard in the stomach.
In a matter of minutes, both men lay crumpled on the ground, blood trickling from Cory’s mouth. Muerto ran over to Cory and began kicking him, but Diablo pulled him away. “Enough.”
Muerto breathed heavily as he eyed the man groaning on the ground as Raven slowly rose to her feet.
“What the fuck happened here?” he asked Diablo, but his gaze was on her.
“Didn’t like how they were treatin’ her.” Diablo spat on the ground.
“Did they hurt you?” Muerto asked her. She shook her head. “You sure?”
The last thing she wanted was a major problem. She just wanted them to stop, and the guy who Muerto called Diablo had taken care of it. All she wanted to do was buy her finds, go home, and shut the world out. She wanted to get lost in her art; it was the only thing that made her feel better when things seemed awful and out of control. Painting and creating jewelry were her therapy.
She cleared her throat. “I’m sure.”
Muerto spoke in a low voice to Diablo as Tyler stood, brushed off the dust from his pants, and helped Cory up.
Cory wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at her. “This isn’t finished, bitch,” he muttered to her. She glanced at Muerto, but he was still talking in a low voice to Diablo.
As the two men walked away, Muerto’s hard voice said, “Leave her the fuck alone. Next time, I’ll kill you.” Without looking back, they disappeared among the junk.
Muerto came over and put his arm around her, his head dipping down toward her ear. “You sure you’re good?”
Nodding, she brought her index finger to her mouth and tugged the dry skin around her cuticle.
“Is this the woman who has your dick?” Diablo asked, his face hard.
Muerto pulled his arm away from her and walked toward Diablo. “No chick’s got it,” he said in a low voice, but she heard him. She bit her inner cheek.
“Thanks for helping me out,” she said to Diablo, extending her hand. “I’m Raven.” Diablo glanced at her hand and then her face without reaction. “Uh… I dropped some things I wanted to buy back there.” She pointed behind her. “I should go get them.”
“What were you doing in the junkyard? It’s hardly a place women like to shop at.” Muerto’s dark eyes were mellow and tender as he looked at her, and it gave her the warm-and-fuzzies.
“I check it out a couple times a month to get stuff for my art.”
“Show us where your things are. We’ll carry them for you.” Muerto came next to her and she quickly walked ahead as the two men followed.
When they arrived at the place where she’d dropped everything, she bent down and began picking the items up, her hands visibly shaking. Muerto took them from her and handed them to Diablo. “Take these to Bud. We’ll be there in a minute.” The tall man grunted and stalked away.
“I could’ve taken them. He was so nice to help me out. I don’t know—” Her voice cracked when the reality of what could have happened hit her.
In one tug, he had her in his embrace, the warmth from his body and his strong arms making her feel safe. Without warning, tears spilled from her eyes and she buried her head against him as all the fear seeped out of her. Muerto held her close, rubbing her back, and for a long time they stood there, the sun burning their skin, the muted wail of a train whistle echoing.
When her tears subsided, she pulled back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it. Thanks.”
He smiled and stroked her cheek with his fingers. “No worries. And no need for thanks. That sonofabitch’s still pissed at you for hustling him.”
Nodding, she blew out a long breath. “The moron bet his whole paycheck. I didn’t know that at the time or I wouldn’t have agreed to play for the whole amount.”
“That was his decision. You tell me if he ever bothers you. Does he know your name or where you live?”
