2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Sylvie
I pointed down to Grunge’s crumpled body. “If you aren’t going to finish him off, I need to.”
He lifted his eyebrow. “He’s dead.”
“How?”
“I broke his neck while you were fumbling around with your syringe, leaving your back exposed. The crime rate in this area is at least five hundred percent higher than the national average.” He pulled out his phone and watched me carefully. The man calmly discussed murder methods and crime stats and wore custom-made suits to a biker bar. What a bizarre man.
He hit speed dial and put his phone to his ear. “Yeah, it’s in the alley behind Titties. New plan. I need a pickup for the bike. The key will be in the ignition. Send me the coordinates for the hole. No, I can do it myself. I threw a couple of shovels in.” He ended the call and turned to me.
I studied the alleyway and glanced at the street entrance, my insides tightening. “This could go one of two ways. We either try to kill each other, or we work together.”
He grinned. “I’d rather work together, but ladies’ choice.”
“Option number one sounds good. Do you have a plan for the bodies? Eightball’s death will look like an overdose, but two dead corpses—and one with a broken neck—are a problem.”
“I’ve already got a hole out in the desert. We can probably fit two bodies in, but we need to move.”
I’d planned to leave Eightball where he fell and hope the coroner blamed it on the drugs and alcohol in his system. I could also take the bodies and cremate them at the family mortuary where I both lived and worked, but it would be better not to have Drakos Creed know who I was. And I definitely didn’t want him to run into my cousins.
The hole in the desert would have to do.
I eyed Drakos warily. “Get your vehicle, and I’ll grab my cleanup kit. I’m driving my own car to the disposal site, though.”
Without waiting for a reply, I hustled to my untraceable car and grabbed my emergency kit, which held tarps, generic solvent, rope, rubber gloves, and a few other odds and ends. By the time Drakos pulled his nondescript vehicle into the alley, I’d gloved up and had Eightball already wrapped and tied in black plastic.
He stared down at the body, and then back to me. “What’s your real name?”
I ignored his question and handed him some rubber gloves. “Open your hatch and grab his torso.” We each took an end, then swung the corpse into the back of his SUV. We repeated the process with Grunge’s body.
“The night is long,” Drakos sighed.
“That never finds the day,” I finished the Shakespeare quote absently.
“And necessity acquaints itself with strange bedfellows.” His lip quirked up as he studied me. “Dark humor, dead bodies, and you’re not queasy. I’m starting to catch feelings.”
“Keep it in your pants, Romeo.” I slammed his trunk shut, the sound echoing off the alley walls. “While you went to get your car, I texted someone to let them know who to hunt down if I disappear tonight.”
“I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t. Do you know who I am?”
“We’ve never met,” I hedged.
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“We don’t have time for this. I’ll follow you.” I glanced around nervously. We’d been lucky so far, but we needed to get moving. The plan was simple. We’d drive the bodies out to the desert, bury them together, and never see each other again.
Drakos's red taillights seemed to mock me as we drove through the late-night streets of Vegas. When we hit the freeway and the sprawling emptiness of the Nevada desert, the city lights faded into the distance. The stars in the clear desert sky became visible, and I gazed up at the sparkling canopy above me as I drove.
My mind replayed the night, and I worried about the change in plans and whether it would all come back to bite me. The night air felt cooler out here without as much concrete and asphalt. We finally pulled off the freeway onto a deserted road just past Primm, that strange, plastic town straddling the Nevada-California border. I rolled down my window and smelled the sagebrush and baked earth in the air.
When I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror, the brown wig and heavy makeup still hid my features. My eyeliner and mascara were smudged, and I did, indeed, look like a cokehead. But the disguise worked. Drakos suddenly turned onto an unpaved track, kicking up dust that glowed eerily in my headlights. We drove for several miles, then made another turn and stopped. This had to be the spot. Creosote bushes and Joshua trees surrounded the clearing, and as I parked and got out, I wondered if Drakos came out here regularly to get rid of evidence.
“Ready?” he asked as he popped his trunk.
“As I’ll ever be.”
My boots crunched on the gravel, and we didn't waste any time. Drakos shed his suit jacket and tie, then grabbed the heavy end of the first tarp as I took the other. We hauled one of the bodies out of the trunk and shuffled to the edge of the hole someone had dug earlier. It was a dark, ominous maw in the ground.
“Drop on three?” I suggested, wiping sweat from my brow with my shoulder. He grinned and nodded. We swung the body and let go, and it hit the bottom of the hole with a deep thud.
The half-moon illuminated the clearing, giving the whole area an eerie, surreal glow. I glanced at my companion, wondering how I had ended up here and where this night was headed.
The second body followed the first, and then Drakos handed me a shovel. As we covered the hole back in with dirt, I became drenched in sweat. Drakos studied me silently as we worked, and I wondered what he thought of this whole business.
When we finished, I stood back. “Let’s throw a few rocks on top. We don't need the coyotes digging them up.” I slammed the disturbed earth flat with the back of my shovel, and he found a few rocks.
“Such a professional,” Drakos murmured as he stowed the shovels back in his trunk and brushed his hands together when we finished.
We both admired our work—almost like we’d been planting a garden together. The quiet desert surrounded us, save for the occasional owl or gust of wind rustling through the brush.
Drakos turned to me. “Okay, Lollipop, what's your real name? Or should I call you Harley Quinn?”
“Come on, Jack. Why would I tell you?”
He stepped toward me with serious eyes. “There’s no way we’re leaving here before you tell me your real name and why you killed LeBaron. You knew that before driving out here. Don’t make me force you.”
My hackles rose. “You could try.”
Drakos plucked the wig off my head a split second before I jumped out of reach. I hadn’t even thought about going for my gun.
“Ouch, goddamn it! That hurt.” I rubbed where the adhesive tape had ripped out strands of my real hair, and scratched at my itchy, sweaty scalp.
Drakos searched my messy blond hair and face in the dim light. “I know you.” His eyes slid over me again, and he straightened. “You’re a fucking Spade .”
From his violent reaction, Drakos knew about my illustrious family and didn’t think much of us. His eyes squinted slightly as though he were mentally rummaging through my family tree, and I waited for him to place me as I bent down and picked up the wig.
Drakos burst into an ugly grin, his white teeth gleaming. “Fuck me, you’re Sylvie Spade. I hear you like to play with dead people.”
My temper flared, and old hurt slid through me. “I’m not into necrophilia, you asshole. I’m a mortician and a damn good one.”
“I should've guessed which Spade you are from your morbid charm and complete lack of squeamishness with dead bodies.” He folded his arms, muscles rippling beneath his shirt. “Your family is a fascinating bunch," he continued, thumbing the edge of his jaw thoughtfully. “And what a strange array of businesses you own. Mortuaries, marijuana, and money laundering.” He leaned forward and his face went hard. “Your fucking cousins are applying for a marijuana grow license in my neighborhood.”
Did he hate me because of that ? I raised an eyebrow. “I heard. Hate to break it to you, dumbass, but you live in an industrial area , where establishments like that are supposed to go. I know about you and your partners’ businesses too. Strip clubs, gambling technology, and also money laundering. You probably sell babies on the black market too, but I think your law practice is the most disreputable business you own.” I folded my arms under my breasts.
He glanced down at my chest, and his lips curled into a nasty grin. “We could stand here all night comparing sins, but I’m more interested in going back to my loft and washing off tonight's work in the shower together. We could scrub each other’s backs, suck each other off, then fuck against the shower wall and finish in bed. We should be able to screw each other out of our systems by dawn, and then discuss what’ll happen if you tell anyone about tonight.”
“I’m sooo tempted. You’re propositioning, insulting, and threatening me all at once. No one can fault your multitasking abilities.” His words stung even as heat crawled through my system. I dismissed his lecherous smirk, even if my insides spasmed a little at the vision of this man naked and soaped up while he slammed me up against his shower wall.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you thoroughly enjoy yourself.”
Annoyance coursed through me along with the lust. “Your crude, insulting offer is tempting, Lucifer, but I’ll have to decline.”
He studied my face. “It’ll be therapeutic for both of us. I’m dealing with a little post-adrenaline rush, and I bet you’re pretty enough to fuck under all that makeup and dirt.” Dark amusement laced his voice.
Disappointment and hurt clashed against the desire. It was a strange concoction, but then again, it’d been a strange night. My heart ached when I remembered why I killed Samuel LeBaron. I smelled like sweat, cheap beer, and secondhand marijuana smoke, and suddenly I just wanted to go home.
My eyes itched, and I was bone-tired from standing all day trying to put back together a traumatized corpse for an open-casket funeral. Then we buried two corpses in the hot August night. It had been a day full of dead bodies.
“Therapeutic for both of us? You’re treating me like a ten-dollar whore, and you don’t even know me.” I looked down at my unfettered breasts and sleazy halter dress. “Granted, I may look like one, but I thought you were smart enough to look past the disguise. My mistake.”
He gazed at me and cocked his head. “I apologize if I offended you.”
“You’re not sorry.” I took a step closer, my voice dropping to a threatening whisper. “But we should talk about what will happen if you tell anyone what we did tonight. You might find yourself at the bottom of Lake Mead.”
Drakos held my gaze, his eyes searching mine in the dark. “Tell me why you wanted him dead, and why you killed him yourself when you’ve got plenty of cousins and help to do it for you. I heard you call him a child rapist.”
My shoulders slumped, and the weight of the night pressed down on me. “It was better than starting a war.”
Drakos reached out and grasped my arm. “Talk to me.”
I studied his beautiful face in the muted moonlight. He’d helped get rid of LeBaron’s body, but he’d also propositioned and threatened me, but worse than that—he’d hurt me. I firmly pulled my arm out of his grip and stepped back. “I don’t know you, and from our conversation over the past five minutes, that’s probably a good thing. Go home, burn your clothes, and forget this night ever happened.” I felt raw inside, and the urge to distance myself from him and this whole mess grew stronger.
Frustration flitted across his face. “Fine—for tonight. But we're not done.”
I turned my back on him and started walking toward my car. “Yes, we are. I need a strong drink, a hot shower, and enough sleep to make me forget I ever met you.”
I reached my car when Drakos called out. “Sylvie.”
“What?” I snapped, tilting my head to the side.
“This heat between us won’t go away on its own. It’ll turn into a persistent rash if we don’t address it at some point."
Smirking, I opened the car door. “I hear hemorrhoid cream works like a charm on rashes. Maybe it’ll work on your personality too. Goodnight, Satan.”
His low chuckle sent goosebumps up my arms. “Sweet dreams, Killer.”
Shaking my head, I slid into the car. I’d get the last word in some other time. As I drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror to see Drakos Creed with his hands in his pockets… grinning at me.