The Quarter Storm (Mambo Reina, #1)

by Veronica G. Henry

The mind could conjure all kinds of fanciful scenarios to assuage the guilt of a poor choice of last words.

All I had to do was confirm that hypothesis and plant my nose back in the untended garden that was my own business.

To me, anger was like a dragon. It sat alongside the good and moral part of you. It was the balance, you see. You wouldn’t want to kill the dragon. You’d want to tame it. The fire could be useful in certain situations. When you needed to stand up for yourself. When you needed to stand up for someone else.

Human beings reserved their most potent venom for the ones we love.

set the glass in front of Vangie. I lit the candle and recited Psalm 142:

1 I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. 2 I pour out before him my complaint; before him I tell my trouble. 3 When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who watch over my way. In the path where I walk people have hidden a snare for me. 4 Look and see, there is no one at my right hand; no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge; no one cares for my life. 5 I cry to you, Lord; I say, “You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.” 6 Listen to my cry, for I am in desperate need; rescue me from those who pursue me, for they are too strong for me. 7 Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name. Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me.