“Aye aye, captain.” Harlow solutes before grabbing the still-trying-to-grin asshole by the back of his leather jacket and dragging him toward the cellar doors on the side of the funeral home.
Sofie shakes her head then stares down into the trunk again. “He’s what, maybe six feet? Like a buck seventy, give or take?”
“Yeah…” I nod slowly. “You can tell even with him crumpled up like that?”
“Yep. Contrary to popular belief, I know what I’m doing, Red.”
“Red?” I smirk as Sofie blushes.
“I don’t likeSnipe.” She reaches in and starts unfolding the Demon Seed asswipe. “And since you haven’t told me your real name yet, you’re Red until I figure it out.”
“Original.”
“Would you rather I call you Bartholomew or Eugene?” Sofie glances at me, her cheeks still pink. “Or maybe something really stupid, likeChad?”
With a small smile, I step up next to her and help get Boyd’s legs over the edge of the trunk. “What’s wrong with Chad?”
“I dated a Chad once and he was a dick.” I scowl and she chuckles. “If your real name is Chad, I might have to reconsider…” Sofie’s words trail off as she grabs an ankle.
“Reconsider what, Cookie?”
“Nothing. Let’s get him out of here and down in the tunnel before someone sees us.”
Not thatsomeone seeing usis a possibility or concern.
The funeral home is pretty secluded, kind of in the middle of BFE farmland across from one of the oldest cemeteries in this part of Sabine Woods, and I think the nearest neighbor is about two miles down the road.
If anyone could see us, they would have by now because Marbles came in hot as hell itself and I’m sure his shouting and pounding on her front door rattled some caskets. And this is Wulven Kings territory, like the majority of El Paso County, but Sabine Woods is our base, so anyone who may or may not have seen anything wouldn’t say shit anyway because we’re flying our colors and patches like fucking neon signs twenty-four-seven. People fear us or leave us alone, pay us if they’re supposed to, and most will turn a blind eye because they like when we give back to the community—something we do regularly,contrary to popular belief.
“What are you thinking about reconsidering?” I ask as we yank the dead man’s legs out of the Caddy.
Sofie grunts as she pulls, and when Boyd’s upper body breaches the trunk, his head bounces off the bumper before his back lands on the gravel drive with a wet thud.
“You gonna answer me?”
She looks up at me briefly, then turns her attention back to the body. “I did.”
“You didn’t.”
“I said it was nothing.”
“Which is a lie.”
“Just forget it.” Sofie sighs. “A slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You’re so full of shit.” I drop the dead piece of shit’s leg and turn to face her. “I want to know what you might have to reconsider.”
With a scowl, she drops the other leg. “You.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I was mostly joking because I don’t really care what your real name is as long as I figure it out, but I was saying I’d have to reconsideryou.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. How do you reconsider a person?” Do I know what Sofie is hinting at? Yeah, I definitely do, but she’s getting all flustered again and I like that I can get that reaction from her. Seeing her so calm and collected around dead bodies is hot, but seeing her drop that professionalism in favor of embarrassment and being out of sorts is fucking sexy.
“I’m notreconsidering a person.” Sofie huffs. “I’m not actually reconsidering anything. I wasn’t, anyway. I might be now. Just, well, I meant…”
“Yeah?”
