Their eyes met and he jolted. He was frozen in his footsteps by her gaze. One cheek was livid with a purple bruise, the eye above it slitted and puffed. She took a step toward him, her jacket opening to reveal a shapeless grey sweatshirt stained with food and—blood?
“Mimi?” he breathed.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her face turning into a fright mask.
“Abel,” she said. “Nice day.”
“Are you all right?” he said. He’d had his girls, his employees, show up for work in this state before. He knew the signs. “Is he in the house now?”
She pulled up a corner of her lip into a sneer and he saw that it was split, and a trickle of blood wet her teeth and stained them pink.
“Sleeping,” she said.
He swallowed. “I can call the cops, or a shelter, or both.”
She laughed. “I gave as good as I got,” she said. “We’re more than even.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “’Even’ is irrelevant. Are you safe?”