Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Asia
I stumbled away from the shed, the evidence of Jack and what I’d fallen into again present in the throb between my thighs.
I ignored it. Looked at Elliot as he wheeled the wheelbarrow forward.
“Get his body in the burn pit and start it up now. Do you need help?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Is there gonna be trouble?”
I smiled at him. “Elliot, there’s always trouble. I’m trying to fix it.”
He nodded. “You always do.”
Elliot pushed the wheelbarrow towards Steven’s body, the irony of his words following me to the truck. Steven was kind enough to leave the keys on the visor, but before I could crank it, Jack was there.
Always there, until, of course, he wasn’t.
I chuckled, looking at him as his big shadow blocked the sun. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m dumping this truck before Christopher and his minions get here. Move over,” he grunted.
“Fuck you, Jack.”
“Asia, move the fuck over.”
I couldn’t really make out his face, not with the sun bright behind him. Didn’t need to. I moved wordlessly and awkwardly, sliding across Steven’s bench seat, resolutely refusing to look at Jack.
“Keys.” He wiggled his finger towards me.
I tightened my hold on the keys and threw them at his chest. He glared at me for a split second, but then cranked the truck and we were off.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” I asked.
“If you weren’t with me, I’d take it ten miles out. But you are, so five should do. Why don’t you look and see if there’s anything useful in here? We can leave this on the side of the road and walk away. Not like they’ll be able to prove otherwise.”
“You say that like it’ll matter,” I grumbled.
“It won’t, but you like games, remember? I proposed a more direct resolution.”
“Jack, I—”
“Hold up.”
His demeanor shifted in less than a second, his grip on the steering wheel loosening, even though his body was now tense. I followed the direction of his gaze, seeing the two trucks parked bumper to bumper in the middle of the road.
“You do the talking.”
I glanced at him, but looked away as he reached towards his side. I rolled down the window, plastering on a smile.
“Ben,” I said, looking at the man who approached. Ben—I forgot his last name—was younger than me. Had probably been in elementary school when I’d first come to Uncle Levi’s. Typical story. Had never left town, split his time between his father’s farm and seasonal work out west.
“That’s Steven’s truck,” Ben said. The other man who was with him—I couldn’t spot him well from this distance—stayed put.
“Yeah, we were out, saw it about a mile away from the farm. Was gonna drive it back to town to see what was up.”
He arched a brow. “He was headed to your place.”
“Then I guess it makes sense that it was so close to the farm. Didn’t see him anywhere. Did he make it back to town? The truck seems to be running fine, so I don’t think there was a mechanical issue.” I lifted my hand to shield my eyes as I glared up at Ben as I loosened the fist I had at my side.
“Haven’t seen him. We were just headed your way to look. Why are you blocking the road? Has something happened?” I asked.
“Well, there are some downsides to these days, but one thing that doesn’t happen too often is a car coming up missing. Christopher thought it’d be best to put folks out on the road, see if they could come up with anything. Lucky us, we did.”
I chuckled. “Well, not too much. There’s the truck, but I’m afraid I haven’t seen Steven.”
“You gotta keep an eye out for him.”
“Of course. He knows where the farm is, so if he comes later today, he can stay over tonight and try to get back tomorrow.”
He nodded, looking satisfied for a split second. “You and your friend mind stepping out of the car?”
“Uh, why?” I asked, adding a smile to the end.
“Just protocol. New thing Christopher’s trying out. Figure it makes sense to try to keep an eye on security. Things being what they are.”
“I—”
Jack cut me off. “That’s smart. Can’t be too safe.”
He threw open his door and got out without looking at me. I smiled, then pushed my own open, almost hitting Ben, who jumped back quickly. I stood watching. In the distance, I heard another truck.
“Asia, run!”
I looked at Jack, torn. He was calm, insanely so given the squeak of brakes, the volley of shots. Someone grunted.
It wasn’t Jack.
It’s not Jack.
I told myself that as I ran off the road, ducking into the woods.
For once, I did what he said.
I didn’t look back.