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“Kidding.” He’s grinning to himself. “Don’t worry. That guy’s extremely dead. Burian doesn’t fuck up.”
I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. The man’s gorgeous, the kind of hot that has my nipples instantly hard, but he’s also clearly insane. “What iswrongwith you?”
“I’m sorry, do you hate jokes? I can try to be less funny, but—” He shrugs like that won’t be easy.
“This is insane.” I pull my knees to my chest as the weight of what just happened begins to settle on my shoulders.
“You keep saying that,” he points out.
“Because it’s true.”
I’m in a strange truck, with a strange man, with a corpse burrito in the bed.
And my puke’s still on the floor of that motel room.
We drive in silence for a few minutes broken only by the sound of sirens in the distance. The cops, right on time. Anxiety rips into me again, and I’m jittering in the seat, moving from side to side, picturing all the ways jail is going to fuck me up and how Grandpop’s going to drop dead the second he sees his only granddaughter and the girl he raised from a baby end up behind bars; it’s going to straight up kill him and, oh, god, what did I get myself into, and I can feel myself spinning out of control, spiraling deeper into terror—until Lanzo puts his hand on my thigh.
It’s not meant to be a sexual gesture. I can see that right away. He’s trying to help calm me down, even if he’s a total stranger and touching me like that is way too familiar.
And yet it sends a barb of desire deep into my core. My uterus pulses like a techno beat, and I think I’m going to throw myself across the cab at this gorgeous stranger so I can vent some of this nervous energy.
I get horny when I’m anxious.
And Lanzo happens to be my type.
Big, muscular, rugged, handsome in an almost casual way like he doesn’t even realize how good looking he is.
Competence oozes from him, the sexiest trait of all.
I should be concentrating on the fact that my boss set me up. Instead, I’m thinking about jumping this stranger and sucking him off as we drive out to the desert to bury a corpse.
There is something seriously wrong with me.
Probably a trauma response, but I’m too messed up to process.
At least my mind’s off the hell I’ve stumbled into. We keep driving in silence for a while, rapidly moving away from civilization, and his hand stays on my leg, his fingers and palm a strangely reassuring weight.
“How’d you end up working for him?” Lanzo’s voice is low and soft. He breaks the silence after a while, as if he was waiting for me to get a hold of myself. Again with that cat-calming tone. I flinch a little, having been too used to the quiet.
I finally brush his hand off. “Craigslist.”
He pauses, eyebrows raising. “Seriously? Didn’t you learn not to trust strangers online?”
“Seriously, and you would’ve taken the job too if you had seen how much he was offering. I have a high school diploma and the ad said it was for an assistant job and the pay was obscenely good. I needed the money more than I needed to be cautious. So here I am.”
“Here you are,” he murmurs, smiling slightly. “All this for money? How much did he offer? Did you know there’d be a body in that room? I’m guessing you knew and still went. You seem like the type.”
“A hundred grand, and no, he didn’t mention the corpse. How the hell do I seem like the sort of girl that wouldn’t mind burying a corpse?”
He ignores my question. “You still would’ve gone if you knew though. Admit it, you would’ve gladly chopped up a murder victim for a hundred grand.”
“Probably, but don’t act like you’re all high and mighty or something. If I recall, you tossed that corpse burrito into your truck like it was nothing. How do you even know anything about this? Who the hell are you?”
“Corpse burrito? That’s a good one.” Still ignoring my questions.
“How did you know I was there? Do you work with my boss? Who are you, seriously?”
Lanzo purses his lips like he’s considering what I should know. “I’ve been tracking your employer for a few years now.” I expect him to elaborate, since the man clearly likes to talk, but he doesn’t.
