A Cry in the Dark (Carly Moore #1) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,87
sorry about?”
“It’s my fault he came in here. I should have gone in the back with Tiny, but I figured if he didn’t say his piece now, he’d find me later, and then I might be alone.”
Concern filled his eyes and he put his hands on my shoulders. “Carly. I’m not mad at you. God, no. This wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me?”
I nodded.
He dropped his arms and pressed his back into the counter again, fisting his hands in front of him. “I hate fuckers like him. You have no idea how much I wanted to stab that knife into his hand.”
His anger caught me by surprise. I started to say I would have cleaned up the mess, but Ruth came rushing through the back door, Franklin with her.
“What the hell just happened?” she asked as she approached us. “I saw Dwight Henderson storming to his truck, covering his face and dripping blood all over the parking lot. He was cursing Tiny and Carly up a blue streak.”
Max took off toward the back, so I gave them a quick recap of events.
“Why do I always miss the good stuff?” she asked in a huff.
“It’s likely for the best,” Franklin said with a chuckle. “You tend to stir up enough trouble on your own.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on the lips. “If you feel unsafe when you get off, call me at the house and I’ll pick you up.” He gave me a warm smile. “You too, Carly.”
“Thanks, Franklin,” I said.
He gave us both a wave as he walked out the back door.
“You’ve got a good man there, Ruth,” I said as I followed her behind the counter.
“Don’t I know it,” she said. “We better start handing out those free beers Max promised.”
“Why don’t you fill the mugs, and I’ll pass them out?” I suggested. It would give me a chance to make the rounds through her section and maybe pick up on some loose talk about Seth’s murder. I hadn’t heard anything in my section, and I was wondering if I should start asking questions because eavesdropping wasn’t cutting it.
“Okay,” she said with a bright smile, then grabbed a mug and started filling it. We worked silently for a few moments before she said, “We’re in good shape now, but Franklin and I have had our share of rough patches.”
“Everyone does,” I said, taking the beer from her and putting it on a tray. “It’s all about how you handle those patches, and if you’re in a better place when you get to the other side of them.”
“True. I’ve been through my share of men, but unlike my momma, I never let ’em beat me. They minute they laid a hand on me, they were out of my life. But Franklin, he ain’t never laid a hand on me.” She leaned closer and winked. “Not that I didn’t want, anyway.”
I chuckled.
“What about you? I take it you don’t have a man in your life right now.”
“No,” I said softly. “I haven’t had much luck with men.”
“It’s the way of the world, honey,” she said, handing me another mug. “Did they beat you?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve been lucky in that regard, but there are plenty of other ways for a man to hurt a woman.”
“Did a man send you runnin’?”
I studied her out of the corner of my eye. She was obviously fishing for information, but was it friendly questioning or something else?
I hated that I distrusted nearly everyone, even Ruth, who’d been nothing but kind to me.
“No,” I said truthfully. “I had that nasty breakup a few months ago, and I decided it was time to shake things up. Hence my decision to go on an extended vacation and look for somewhere else to live.”
“Have you ever lived in a house?” she asked wistfully. When I gave her a curious look, she said, “Can you keep a secret?”
“I’m a vault with secrets.”
She gave me a strange look, but it quickly faded, and a smile lit up her face. “Last weekend Franklin told me that he’s been savin’ up money. He nearly has enough for a down payment on a house.”
I gave her a huge grin. “That’s great!”
“I’ve always wanted a house of my own.” She shook her head, her smile fading. “I’ve lived all my life in trailers. Is it wrong to want something that can’t be carted away by a tractor trailer?”