“Honey, men like that drive themselves into ditches all the time. Sometimes the road just gets tired first.”
The words slide through the air like a knife wrapped in silk.
Not a confession.
Not denial.
Enough.
“You owed Caroline,” I say.
Hot Mama’s eyes sharpen.
Danger.
Real danger now.
“You don’t know what I owed Caroline.”
“Then tell me.”
“No.”
“I need to know what Amelia owes.”
Hot Mama steps closer.
Shortie doesn’t stop her.
Suddenly she is right in front of me, red mouth curved, eyes hard as old road.
“You listen here, Kentucky. Amelia owes me nothing for being Caroline’s girl. She owes this place nothing for eating, sleeping, breathing, or letting her boy laugh in dirt without flinching at a car door. We don’t charge women for surviving.”
I don’t look away.
“Outlaws charge for everything eventually.”
Her smile fades.
“True,” she says.
And that scares me more than the smile.
“But not today.”
The words sit between us.
Not today.
Meaning someday.
I can smell the hook even if I can’t see it.
Hot Mama turns her head slightly. “Shortie.”
“Yeah?”
“Tell Wildflower to get the boy.”