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“I’ll leave you boys to it.” She headed back into the studio shutting the door behind her.
I looked to Celt for instruction. “We’ll move the body and bike tonight. I’ll drive the truck in and haul both into the back. Until then, it’s clean up time.” He threw me a rag and pointed to a bottle of bleach. “We’re going to need this place sparkling before the day is out.”
We worked for hours, scrubbing every inch of the shop. Despite Celt’s words about getting the shop sparkling, once we’d hauled the body and bike onto his truck, he intentionally spilled a little oil onto the ground where the worst of the blood had been. “No point making it too clean. Need to make everything look as normal as possible. You ready for a ride?”
I was torn. I wanted to help Celt, but at the same time I wasn’t ready to leave Bou alone.
“I can’t. I gave her my word.” I had no intension of leaving her until she was healed, and even then, I didn’t relish the idea of it.
“Fuck. Yeah.” Celt dragged his hand through his hair. “I don’t want her here on her own either. I’ll call Doc and ask him to come over.”
“Don’t bother.”
Celt and I swiveled our heads to where Bou was standing at the doorway.
She was dressed in jeans and a shirt. Her hair was tied back from her face, and her boots clomped on the concrete as she marched over to us. “He’s taking Kim out and I’m not going to get in the middle of that.”
“It’s been hours. They’re probably back by now,” Celt said.
Bou’s brows drew together as she glared at her brother. “It doesn’t matter either way. I’m coming with you.”
“No,” Celt and I spoke at the same time.
“I don’t see any alternative right now if you don’t want me to be by myself, and besides. I want to watch you lowering that fucker into the ground.”
My face split into a grin as she walked past Celt and I and stepped into the truck.
She was one hell of a woman.
21
Bou
I sat between Celt and Wilde as we drove into the desert. It was a dark night with clouds blocking out most of the stars. It was better that way. No one would pay any attention to an old truck heading out into the desert, but they would notice if they saw who the truck belonged to.
No one spoke as we veered off the road and onto the sandy terrain. Wilde kept his hand up to his face the whole journey, only removing it when we arrived. I knew why. The AX3. They were still after him and though it wasn’t likely they’d be passing through at precisely the same time we were, it only took one sighting to fuck us all up.
Celt pressed down on the brakes and we came to a halt. The usually warm desert was chilly as we stepped out into the night. Only the slight halo of light on the horizon showed civilization. We were in the middle of nowhere.
Wilde jumped out. When I made to follow, he stopped me. “I know you don’t like being told what to do, but I’d rather you stay in the truck. It’s going to take a while to dig the grave anyway.”
I nodded. I didn’t particularly want to be out there with them anyway. I watched as they worked by flashlight, digging. I felt a twinge of guilt as Wilde struggled slightly with the shovel. He shouldn’t have to do this at all. Beside him, Celt worked at a much faster pace, digging down and flinging sand to one side. I’d never put much thought into how long it would take to dig a grave before now, and it took a lot longer than I would have guessed. Three hours later, they finally had a hole big enough to hide Luke and Kitty and deep enough so that they would not be found so easily.
My stomach tightened as they hauled the tarp around to the front of the truck, but I slid out. I needed to be there without the windshield separating me from the deed. Wilde’s eyes flicked to mine for a second before they threw him into the hole.
I’d expected to feel pain, or anger, but all I felt was relief as his body hit the bottom and a cloud of dust poofed up around the tarp. I let out a long breath. This was it. A few more steps, and Luke would finally be gone. I felt more for the bike and maybe so did Celt and Wilde as they lowered it much more reverently into the hole than they had with Luke. When they finished piling sand over the body and bike and flattening the ground, they both stepped back and leaned onto the shovels.
Done.
Celt swiped a forearm across his forehead and looked at Wilde. “Mind driving back?” He tossed the keys across the grave into Wilde’s waiting hand.
We all climbed into the truck, and I was once again the meat in a man sandwich. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and dirt as Wilde fired up the engine.
“You’re fine now, Bou,” he said, wrapping his good arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him and closed my eyes. He was right. I was fine now.
22
Wilde
