Page 49 of Xavier

He pulled out onto the road still singing.

Lissette laughed.

Ahead, a car sat on the side of the road with the hood up, and someone bent over the engine.

Xavier slowed.

“We should stop and render assistance,” Lissette said.

“I don’t know. Might be better to call the sheriff’s office and have them send someone out.” Xavier lifted his cell phone. “No service.”

The person bent over the engine straightened and raised a hand.

“It’s a woman,” Lissette said.

Xavier pulled up behind the car and stopped. “Stay in the truck.”

“No way.” Lissette reached for the door handle. “It’s been a while, but she looks familiar.”

Xavier shifted into park, left the engine running and stepped down from the truck. “Need a hand?” he called out.

The woman waved toward the engine. “It just died on me. I don’t know what’s wrong. Do you know anything about cars?”

As Xavier followed the woman to the front of the car, Lissette slid out of her seat and followed, her mind sifting through vague images of the woman drifting through her memories.

She couldn’t place her in Bayou Mambaloa. Was she from one of the neighboring towns like Bayou Miste?

No, that wasn’t it.

While Xavier stared into the engine compartment, the woman glanced back at Lissette, her eyes narrowing slightly.

That’s when it hit Lissette.

She recognized that almost calculating glance, having seen it before when she’d been escorted into Manny Marceaux’s crib in New Orleans. That woman had been there, standing over his shoulder, whispering into his ear, the night he’d offered Lissette more money than she’d ever imagined. All that money to take out the one person everyone compared Lissette against—Shelby Taylor.

She remembered too many teachers at the high school asking her why she couldn’t be polite like Shelby Taylor. Or why she couldn’t turn in her homework like the class pet, Shelby Taylor. Or why she couldn’t just once think of someone besides herself. Shelby Taylor always took care of others before herself.

She’d had a recent run-in with one of Bayou Mambaloa’s judgmental biddies. Even though they weren’t in school anymore, the older gossiping lady had felt it was her responsibility to correct Lissette, to point out her faults and to compare her to the town’s favorite sheriff’s deputy—Shelby Taylor.

“Oh, shit. Xavier, don’t⁠—”

A hand clamped over her mouth. Even more hands grabbed her from behind, lifted her off her feet and carried her into the darkness.

Lissette bucked and twisted, managing to free one leg. She swung it hard, connecting with someone’s hard head.

The hands on her right side loosened, and she tilted toward the ground.

Two men had her, one less inclined to hold on when she’d just kicked him in the face.

Instead of stiffening, she went limp.

As she dropped toward the ground, the guy on her left side stumbled, tripped and lost his hold.

Lissette hit the ground, rolled to the side and swept her leg out, catching the man behind his knees. He fell, smacked into his partner and sent him flying backward.

Lissette came up on her hands and knees and scrambled away, lurching to her feet.

She ran back toward the lights, the truck and Xavier.