“What the hell are you doing, Jude? He’s gonna—”
I don’t owe him an explanation. What I want is for that shitstain to think he’s gonna get away. I want him to have a fleeting moment of hope. Something Tor hasn’t had since she set foot in my house.
I let Euan get halfway across the leaf-strewn lot before I lift the gun, aim for his leg, and pull the trigger. His body jerks then he goes down like a deer in the woods. He attempts to crawl toward the distant road while I leisurely approach him. And when I get close enough that he can see my face, I point the gun and aim at his abdomen.This piece of shit is going to suffer and bleed out while I watch.
***
By the time we get back to Elysium, the deep reds and oranges of the sunset paint the sky. “How many days do you think until his body surfaces?”
“Maybe three, four.” There are about thirty ways to make sure that body never sees the light of day again, but if Euan and Tor both show up dead, Tom will assume I killed them. “And as for the girl’s body, you’re planting it tonight?”
“Yep. I’ll find it on patrol first thing in the morning...already talked to the coroner.”
I slap a hand over the roof of the patrol car, then turn and head toward the club.
When I step inside, Marney’s cackle rises over the low thrum of music. “Not lying,” he says. “Son of a bitch called me and told me to have the fire extinguisher ready. Smoke was coming outta the hood when he pulled into the drive.”
Tor’s laughter echoes through the club. “Anyone with that little self-preservation should definitely be dead by now.”
“He’s like a damn cat. Got himself ‘bout nine lives. And by my calculations, he’s got ‘bout two left.” Marney snickers before topping off her drink.
I left her at the bar hours ago. And she’s still drinking. Fuck my life. “How much has she drunk?”
Tor turns on the stool and nearly topples off. “Not enough.”
“Don’t you be judging my darlin’ here,” Marney says, and I slap a hand over my forehead. A few days ago this fucker was telling me to kill her and now he’s scolding me for asking how much she’s drank.
Frowning at him, I head through the maze of empty tables and pull her from the stool.
“Marney’s my favorite,” she says, leaning into me. “He’s so redneck.”
Of course he’s a redneck. I try to ignore the way she smells as I glare over the top of her head at the old man. “You realize there’s a missing person’s report on her ass, Marney?”
“Ah, now, calm down.”
“See, so redneck. I love it.” She squints at me, then pats my arm. “Don’t be jealous. You’re redneck and–” Her fingers brush my throat. “Is that blood?”
I latch onto her wrist and slowly pull her hand away. “Does it look like blood, Tor?”
Her teeth rake her bottom lip as her gaze slowly tracks from my throat to my mouth. If this shit turns her on, we’re both fucked. And judging by that look… Marney chuckles when her chest presses against my stomach. “What did you do, Jude?”
Made a fucking mess. “We need to go,” I say, fishing my keys from my pocket. Because if one more of her warm breaths hits my throat… I grab the bottle of tequila she had and start toward the exit. “Come on, Tor.”
Tor
The blue haze of the TV cast shadows over the bedroom wall, but I don’t know what’s on the screen. I’m too focused on shirtless Jude leaning against the headboard. He shifts, his tattoo-covered biceps bulging when he grabs the bottle of tequila he took from the bar and turns it up. My gaze traces over the intricate inkwork, hating the fact that it looks so good on him. My gaze stops on the crucifix on his shoulder and I snort. “Sure as hell need Jesus,” I mumble under my breath.
Glaring at me, he takes another sip. “Do you just like to hear yourself talk?”
“Do you just like to get shit, meaningless tattoos?”
He puts bubbles in the bottle, a slow smirk working over his bad boy face. “I don’t get them for the meaning.”
Heat touches my cheeks as my gaze follows the sweep of his palm over his solid chest. “You look like a criminal.” I turn my face away. “I prefer my men a little more clean cut.” It’s such a lie. He looks like he would make me scream his name and beg him for more. The thought has me shifting on the bed as heat trickles through me. I hate him.
He snorts. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am a criminal.”
“If I have to stay in your room, could you at least put a shirt on. I don’t want to look at that.” I do, I really do.