“What are you doing?” A breathless voice sounds behind me, but I don’t need to turn to know it’s Kira.
“Just keep up,” I say.
“Put him down. My sister and I can do it.”
“No such luck.” I start my ascent into the woods.
This may be their mess, and while I think they should have to clean it up themselves, I’m not about to let a woman carry anything in my presence. I also don’t think Kira could carry a glass of water right now, but that’s beside the point. I may kill people, but I’m nothing if not a gentleman.
I’m surprised when she doesn’t complain further, but I would imagine that has to do with her battling between protesting and keeping up. These aren’t the hiking kind of woods. They’re the steep and crumbly kind that, without proper shoes, might have you tumbling to your death. I mean, props to her for knowingbetter than to try and bury it in a populated area, but she wouldn’t have been able to dig a hole more than half a foot here.
She’s fucking lucky I showed up.
Chapter Nine
Kira
Marshal’s lifeless hand swings loosely behind Jax’s back as he strides through the hills like he’s hauling lumber. The ease with which he carries the body is both impressive and unsettling, and I have no idea how he’s doing it. I’m drenched in a cold sweat, my throat raw from breathing so hard, and I’m only carrying the shovel.
Nix and Caleb don’t look much better—pink-cheeked and panting—but at least they’re not climbing on all fours like I am. I’m using my hands to catch myself every other step. It’s not lost on me that the ground is dry and hard and that I might have to rest before I can dig. But I don’t complain. I know that the farther we go, the better our chances of Marshal never being found.
But fuck if I’m not regretting skipping that heated car-seat nap Caleb told me to take.
The part I can’t wrap my head around, though, is how we got here. I don’t know what happened in the minutes I was passed out for Jax to go from pointing a gun at me and threatening to kill us to carrying the body for us, but I loathe to say I’m grateful. I probably won’t feel the same tomorrow, but right now, I need all the help I can get.
I haven’t seen Jax in years. Cloverwick isn’t the smallest town, even if it’s just an hour’s drive from New York City, but I definitely would have noticed him. How could I not? He’s everything you’d never find around here—jacked, inked, built like he’s carved from volcanic rock. No shade to the never-made-it-out townies—because I am one—but Cloverwick doesn’t have anything close to the dark god who’s carrying a body through the woods like it weighs nothing.
He had to have been in the city, committing all sorts of criminal activity if his ease with a body is any indication.
After what feels like hours, but can’t be more than half of one, Jax finally stops. With a careless motion, he dumps Marshal onto the ground like he’s a sack of bricks. The clearing is more open here, as opposed to the dense foliage we trekked through, and moonlight slices through the branches to bathe us in a silvery glow. It’s too bright for comfort, and with all our steps halted, my breathing takes up the silence.
Embarrassed, I swallow, trying not to seem like I’ve been struggling, and plant the shovel into the dirt to lean on. My hair is plastered to my forehead, and when I push it back, my gritty fingers smear dirt across my skin. I realize it too late but shrug it off. This isn’t a beauty pageant. I just hiked two miles through hell, and I don’t care what Jax thinks of me.
“What the fuck is that?” He scowls at my shovel when he turns around.
God, he doesn’t even have a hair out of place. Show-off.
I blink. “What’s it look like?”
“It looks like you carried an extra five pounds for no reason.”
“No reason?” I snap, trying to straighten despite the ache in my back. “Are you planning to dig a grave with your bare hands?” I scoff, though I wouldn’t put it past him.
“No.” His eyes gleam as he grabs a canister I hadn’t noticed from Caleb. “I’m going to light a match.” His gaze shifts back to Caleb, his tone sharp. “Why’d you let her carry that up here?”
“She…” Caleb falters, glancing at me apologetically. “I thought it would make her feel better.”
“To carry something after having a heart attack…” Jax deadpans.
“No,” Caleb groans, dragging a hand over his face. “I just—she’s really attached to the idea of burying him,” he tries to whisper. “I didn’t want to upset her.”
“Upset me?!” My voice rises, but Jax doesn’t even glance my way.
“So you were afraid of her?” He keeps his focus on Caleb.
Caleb’s cheeks turn pink, and he looks at his shoes. “A little,” he mutters under his breath.
Jax’s gaze flicks between Nix and me, clearly comparing us. But the moment his attention snags on my hospital band, still snug around my wrist, I know where this is going. His smirk unfurls slowly, a maddening expression that makes my grip tighten on the shovel.
