Page 21 of Bone’s Choice

Myth stepped up beside me. “That’s not one with extras.”

I glanced at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Remember this one. Standard order.” That took one concern off my list. Whatever the hell had happened, at least we didn’t have a loaded coffin unexpectedly coming back.

“We’ll figure out where it came from and get it squared away,” Myth said.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

There’d be a serial number on it because every custom coffin we built was tracked. We’d figure out who ordered it, where it was supposed to go, and why the hell it ended up back here.

“Munch,” I called.

He came jogging over. “Yeah, Prez?”

“Grab a cart.”

“Got it.”

Bull climbed into the truck with Jackson while Munch rolled one of the heavy-duty carts over.

The four of them carefully worked the coffin out and lowered it onto the cart.

I walked around it once and still didn’t see anything.

“No scratches,” Taco said.

“Maybe it’s underneath,” Bull suggested.

“Or inside.” Taco leaned closer. “Could be the lining.”

Dealer walked over. “Who the hell cares? We’ll check the number later. Let’s get the other coffins loaded.”

“Give me ten seconds.”

“Taco.”

“Ten fucking seconds.”

Dealer rolled his eyes.

Taco reached for the lid. “Maybe somebody ripped—” He flipped it open and stopped. His whole body went still and his eyes bugged out.

I waited. “Taco?”

The fucker went pale and Munch leaned around him. “Oh, fuck,” he gasped. He immediately stumbled backward, clapped a hand over his mouth, and gagged.

I frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Munch waved his free hand frantically in front of his face. “Oh my fucking God.”

“What?”

“The smell.”

Taco still hadn’t moved.

Myth walked toward them. “What the fuck are you two going on about?”