Page 59 of Savage Outlaw

Papercutsalwaysbleed the most, it’s just science.

She stood by, her body unwilling to get out of there, like all those fight or flee lessons imparted to her by her MC went right over her head. Watching as Verónica took something out of her coat pocket and held it in front of Rico’s face.

A mirror. What did she need a mirror for?

Ohh.

Bile rushed up into Roux’s throat. A sickening dark dread felt heavy in her chest. She was checking for his breathing. Next, Verónica tested for a pulse and then rose to her feet.

“Well, my dear. You’ve killed my bodyguard. From the look of horror on your face I assume it’s your first kill. Congratulations, the next one won’t feel as terrible.”

Roux heard the words, but they didn’t make any fucking sense as they hustled around inside her brain until she wanted to scream.

He was not dead.

He couldn’t be dead.

That would make her a killer. Roux was a brat, a bitch, a loudmouth, a complete pain in the ass and a smart one at that but she was not a killer.

“No, he’s not.” She croaked, her eyes pleading for the woman to tell herha-ha, got you, bitch. That’ll teach you to mess with me.

But it never came.

The Latina woman walked around the body. The clack of her heels on the stone floor sounded deadly.

Oh, god. He wasjusta body now. A dead body. She’d made a dead body. She’d taken a life from someone.

Verónica’s heels clicked as her walk slowed, the noise was too loud now. Turbulent thoughts whipped back and forth in her head.

When something bad happens, they say your brain goes into autopilot until it can cope with the situation. Roux wasn’t on autopilot. She wasstuck. Transfixed with revulsion staring down at the massive man on the floor. She didn’t spring into action to do what was right. She didn’t try to resuscitate or call an ambulance. She didn’t try to run away.

With death in her nose and a tremor to her hands, she was frozen.

It was then she noticed Verónica walking toward the arched exit.

“Hey…what…where are you going?” She turned around and until the day she died, Roux would always remember the look in that woman’s eyes. It wasn’t fear that she’d witnessed a crime. It wasn’t sickness or even sadness that her man was dead. It was understanding, and something cracked inside Roux because she wasn’t like this woman.

She played games and mouthed off. Violence happened around her, she didn’t cause it. But the way Verónica looked at her from beneath the covering of her umbrella, it was as if the older woman felt respect for Roux.

“I’m going home. I suggest you do the same,niña. You nor I were ever here.”

Roux was alone with a dead body at her feet and her fight or flee had fucked off.

She had to think.

What to do?

Seeing drops of blood on her hand turned her stomach so she hastily scrubbed it on the side of her jeans.

She didn’t have the cast iron gut for this.

Only she had to find it fast.

Because she knew she wasn’t going to jail.

Some of her fighting instinct returned when she took a slow, calming breath. She ran to the corner of the arch, looking out into the street to make sure no one else had heard. It was late but homeless people always wandered down this way. Luckily, the street was empty and no sign of Verónica.

Why wouldn’t she call the cops on her? An act of mercy?

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