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She’d called a friend to come and keep watch over Lula long enough for her to get to Nadine. All she’d understood over the phone was Nadine had been attacked. She had no idea by who.
Crying sounded from the back bedroom. The pungent odor of pot lingered, and a roach still weakly burned in the ashtray. “Nadine?” Ruby called, a sudden chill sweeping over her skin, and she zipped up her hoodie to her neck then tiptoed through the kitchen, down a short narrow hall. The door was cracked open.
Without knocking, she entered. Nadine was curled in a ball on her bed, mascara streaming down her face, hair in disarray and blood trickling from her mouth, nose and forehead. She wore an oversize sweatshirt and leggings. A man’s flannel shirt was crumpled on the floor at the end of the bed.
“Nadine,” she murmured and perched beside her, running her hand through Nadine’s messy hair. “What happened?”
“I heard the back door open, and I thought it was Jake comin’ back. We’d partied earlier.”
Ruby smelled the party. “It wasn’t Jake?”
“I don’t know who it was.” Nadine stared at the mirrored sliding closet door. “I was dozing off when it happened. Then he was here on top of me before I could do anything, and I was kinda out of it, you know?”
“You fought him?”
She scrunched into a tighter ball. “He punched me a few times, and I couldn’t overpower him...but then a car pulled into the drive, and he froze, then he left.” She sobbed into her hands. “Then I called you.”
“He didn’t have a chance to...”
“No,” she squeaked. “I got up and locked the doors and looked out the window, but there wasn’t a car in the drive, Rube. But I know I saw a light shine through my window, like headlights or something. He did too, because it drove him out into the night. But what if that light hadn’t come right then? Then what?”
Then the story would have a more sinister outcome. Because Nadine might have been taken by the Blind Eye Killer.
And that was why Ruby believed that whoever was murdering holler girls wasn’t someone who lived in the holler. Or he’d be dead already.
“I called him. On my way over.”
“Why?”
“Because we need protection.” She brushed hair from Nadine’s face. “Your eye’s swelling. I’m going to find an ice pack or something.” She headed for the kitchen as the roar of a powerful engine revved and bright lights shone inside the trailer.
He was here. She’d know that engine anywhere.
The lights cut off, and then the door opened and his muscular frame entered the trailer. Black wavy hair, hanging at all one length under his chin. Inky scruff across his squared jaw added menace to his already threatening appearance. His dark eyes met hers, and his clenched jaw relaxed. “How bad?”
Ruby opened the freezer and removed an ice pack. “Beat up some, but I guess a car or something drove up and the headlights scared him away before he could do worse, though Nadine insists there was no car. Maybe it pulled away. She’s still semi-high, so...”
He wore a military-green jacket over a flannel shirt and faded jeans, and his heavy hiking boots clunked against the laminate flooring as he ate up the ground and approached her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she licked her lips. He touched her cheek with more gentleness than his rough, weathered hands would seem capable of doing. “And you?” he asked gruffly. “Are you okay? Where’s Lula?”
Lula. Of course he’d asked about her.
“I’m fine. Lula’s tended.” No point telling him with who. He’d be angry, and it wasn’t worth an argument. “I just...y’all have to catch this guy. It’s not safe for any of us now.”
He cradled her face, and she tried not to let it affect her. Not let it seep into her bones. She’d loved him once. Truth be told, she loved him now. But he was a dangerous man. And he’d never been willing to put her before his precious business and power.
Ruby had never meant to fall in love with him. Maybe he never loved her. Maybe everything out of his mouth had been worthless, vain words. Empty promises.
Either way, things were complicated between them.
The front door opened, and his newly favorite minion entered, bigger, longer hair tied in a sloppy bun at the back of his head and a creepy scar running through his eyebrow. His eyes met hers. He wore flannel over a Henley, jeans and work boots—no jacket as if the cold didn’t affect him. “Ruby.”
She hated the way he said her name. As if he were undressing her right in front of his pal, and he didn’t have the decency to care.
“Greg,” she said and shrugged off his presence. Something about him didn’t sit right.
“I’ll find this guy,” Whiskey said. “And I’ll end him. Nobody is going to touch my girls.”
“She have a stash here?” Greg asked and spotted the roach burning. He picked it up. “Might as well partake.” He inhaled deeply, held his breath then slowly exhaled.
