Free Serendipity (Southern Comfort) by Lisa Clark O'Neill Page A

chin.
    “Hola .”  The word was no less menacing for its pleasant tone, the goon’s face no less threatening because it smiled handsomely.  His skin was dark and clear, and a leather band restrained hair that was thick, black, and long.  But his eyes told the real story.  They were flat, desolately cold. 
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  Ava wasn’t afraid, not yet.  But she was cautious, and that kept her from flicking the knife away with an angry hand.
    “I might ask you the same thing.  You take foolish chances, querida, when you play your little games with me.  You tried my patience today.”  He moved closer, until her back was against her car.  Her thighs pressed intimately against his.  He wasn’t that much taller than she, but his presence was disproportionately huge.  His breath floated warm and almost sweet against her skin.
    Despite herself, Ava shuddered.  This man was unlike the others in her uncle’s employ – smooth, well spoken. 
    And somehow, that made him worse. 
    “You don’t scare me.” 
    “No?”  The blade pressed, just short of penetration.  “Then you’re a fool.  I could kill you with a flick of my wrist.” 
    “You wouldn’t dare.” Ava was determined to hold her ground despite the curl of unease in her belly.  “My father…” if either of them moved, just the slightest bit, it would be her blood that spilled. “My father would skin you like an animal.” 
    “Your father is in jail.”
    “And you think my uncle would reward you for killing his only niece?”   She regretted it the minute she said it.  And she cursed herself as pathetic for using her uncle as a defense.
    The goon chuckled. And stepping back, just a little bit, used the blade to groom his nails.  “What makes you think your uncle didn’t give the order?”
    The question, asked so casually, had a chill snaking down her back. 
    “Ah, I see the cat has taken hold of your sharp tongue.  But you’re correct, senorita, your uncle doesn’t wish to see you harmed.”  The goon patiently trimmed his thumbnail, discarded the remnants near his booted foot.  “Your uncle is a passionate man. A man, you could say, who’s ruled by his blood.  And his blood flows in your veins.  But you and me…”  He pointed at her with the blade and then angled it back toward himself.  “We share no blood.  So don’t believe I would suffer your uncle’s compunction about spilling yours.”
    The blade flashed again as he ran the flat of it down her cheek.  For the first time in longer than she remembered, Ava truly tasted her own fear. 
    “You think about that next time you decide to play your little games with me.”
    The sound of a shotgun being pumped caused Ava’s racing heart to stutter. 
    “And you think about this, senor.”  Lou Ellen stepped off the porch, her whiskey voice iced with cold fury.  “The next time you threaten my tenant, the next time you set foot on my property, the next time you so much as breathe within a five block radius of either one of us, I’ll shoot your balls off.  And believe me, I’ll suffer no compunction about eliminating you from the gene pool.”  She held the shotgun steady and gestured with her chin.  “Now get the hell out of here before my finger gets itchy.”
    With a careless movement of his wrist, the man looming over Ava closed the switchblade, then rapped it lightly against her nose. 
    Ignoring Lou Ellen, he whistled I’ll Be Seeing You as he strolled away.
    “Oh my God.” With an uncharacteristic loss of composure, Ava threw her arms around Lou Ellen’s neck.  “Oh my God.  You didn’t have to do that.  You shouldn’t have done that.  I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Lou.” 
    LOU ELLEN held the shotgun aside and wrapped Ava in a tight embrace.  “Stop your babbling, child.”  Her heart, which had all but stopped when she’d looked out the window, began to pulse an erratic beat.  Ava was the closest