48. Cupid
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CUPID
After transporting the corpses to the attached crematorium on the back of the old Victorian, Crypt helps Romy load Boden and Riley’s bodies onto the gurney before rolling it into the primary chamber of the cremator.
Romy hums to herself while she moves around the space, finding comfort in doing something she knows and that is useful to our situation.
Drift and Ruger hose down the mortuary room, using the chemicals Romy set out for them and the techniques she told them would be most effective for eliminating evidence.
Oaks is covering the busted front door with plywood and reattaching it to the hinges. A temporary replacement will arrive this afternoon, and a new, ornate door has been ordered to be installed at a later date.
Tidy—our club’s cleaner for bigger messes—takes Riley’s car parked out back in the funeral home parking lot to sink it in an abandoned quarry in the center of a nature preserve near Trinidad, Colorado, nearly four hours away.
It’s far enough that it will be damn near impossible to trace back to our club if it’s ever found.
I sent Vanessa back to the club with Cookie.
She doesn’t need to be here to see us disposing of the ones who tried to harm her.
Although she’s well over Boden, it doesn’t mean she’s without feeling.
She cared for him once, and that’s enough for me to keep her from witnessing this.
My woman also wasn’t thrilled when she found out our crew knew about the Black Market Railroad, and Boden and Riley’s involvement with it.
I told her the truth—I will always be honest with her.
I explained how we had only discovered Boden and Riley’s involvement the day before, and how we withheld the information to keep her safe, fearing she might confront Boden in anger.
We never intended to keep her in the dark indefinitely, only while we searched for them, like we did with the other traffickers.
After sitting with it for a beat, Vanessa agreed it was the right call, but she reserved the right to be angry about it. I couldn’t disagree with her.
Eager to return home to my Butterfly, I ask the burning question—no pun intended. “How long will this take?”
“Based on body sizes and the fact that there are two of them in the oven,” Crypt says, working the math in his head, “three hours.”
“Very insightful, Crypt,” Romy says with the approval of a teacher handing out gold stars. “I was unaware you were so knowledgeable in cremation.”
“I’m educated in all things related to death,” Crypt says deadpan, coming out way creepier than he probably intended.
“Oh, well, I’d love to talk about it further with you sometime,” she says sweetly, pulling a lever down on the oven. It rumbles to life like it’s preheating for the bake-off.
Whoa! Romy dropping hints was not on my bingo card after the shitshow this morning.
Crypt stares back at her, not picking up what she’s putting down.
Helping a brother out, I send a text to Crypt like an arrow shot from a bow. He pulls out his cell, reading my message.
She wants you to ask her out.
Crypt’s eyes widen under the curtain of his bangs. He looks at me, unsure.
I nod my head at Romy, like Do it already before the window closes.
Straightening his shoulders, Crypt walks up behind Romy, where she works at the oven panel. He taps her on the shoulder to get her attention. Romy jumps, startled to find him right behind her and looking up at him with expectant eyes.
“Would you like to have our conversation at the historical cemetery on the edge of town? We can steal some more fence stakes for future impalements.”
She blinks. “Excuse me?”
My palm meets my face. Leave it to Crypt to make things weird.
“Hey, buddy. Maybe save the cemetery for a second date,” I say, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “How about grabbing a coffee first? Everyone likes coffee, Romy included.”
Crypt nods at my suggestion, turning his attention back to the tiny mortician. “Would you like to have coffee with me?”
Her smile is beaming, almost as if she’s been waiting ages for him to ask. “I’d love to grab a coffee with you. How about later, when we’re done here? We can walk across the street to that new café—Flick My Bean.”
Say what now?
Romy’s pale skin flushes bright pink, realizing she misspoke. “I mean Flavor Bean! It’s called Flavor Bean, not, um, the other thing.”
Intrusive thoughts said out loud are the best. It takes everything in me not to laugh out loud.
Crypt nods his stoic head. “Yeah, Flavor Bean makes more sense. Flicking your bean would be more of a third-date kind of activity.”
Good Gods!
“Alright,” I say in a high voice, heading for the door and unwilling to save Crypt from his latest blunder. “I’m going to leave you two alone. Have fun. Make good choices. Use protection and all that stuff. Send me a text when the fuckers have turned to ash.”
I’m barely out the front door before I burst into laughter.