“Or help others,” Jenny added.
“Someone had to go get assistance,” Mrs. Gay said without looking at them.
Jenny and Mercury shared an eye roll. “Either way, the fact that they’re all moving means we don’t need to clear out our suitcases to make room for them. Stella, stop long enough to let them know that we’ll send back help, ‘kay?”
“Okay.” Stella’s voice sounded tight, like she had to force the word through sealed lips.
“Mrs. Gay, lock your door,” Mercury said.
“Already done,” Mrs. Gay replied.
As they drew beside the people, Stella steered the truck so that the group was closest to her side of the vehicle. She braked gently and rolled her window about halfway down as a tall, muscular man strode up to them. His jaw was strong, his shoulders wide, and his eyes were a bright, stunning cornflower blue. He held a scarlet-spattered rag in one hand, which he kept blotting against his nose. He grinned at the truck with relief. There was blood in the creases between his straight, white teeth, which bizarrely made him look like he was wearing poorly applied lipstick.
“I don’t like this,” Stella said under her breath. “He reminds me of someone.”
“Who?” Mercury asked as she studied the man, who looked confident and in charge as he strode toward them.
“My fucking last ex-husband.”
Mercury’s stomach roiled. “He was a handsome, narcissistic bully.”
“Exactly,” said Stella.
“Shit,” said Mercury.