Page 1 of The Grave Robber

Chapter One

My body is less like a temple

and more like a bar and grill.

—Meme

I needed to get drunk. Or laid. Fortunately, I was in theright place for either if I played my cards right. Unfortunately, I hadn’tshaved in three days. Was the scruffy biker look still a thing? I had my eye ona saucy redhead, a server in the bar I’d ridden twenty hours to get to. I neverdreamed I’d drive two days to drink in a bar I’d never seen, in a state I couldbarely find on a map, but I realized rather quickly why my high-school buddyhad set up shop in northern Idaho. The lush countryside and abundance of lakesproved intoxicating. Much like the beer I currently nursed, thanks to a disputethat involved a gas pump, a broken card reader, and an irate blonde.

I shook out of my thoughts with gritted teeth and studied myfriend’s grunge-worthy establishment. Exposed metal rafters, corrugated walls,and neon signs were the foundation of Jason’s decor. But the coolest thingabout Cruisers was a road that cut through the building, created by two largegarage doors at either end. It allowed bikers to ride through and show offtheir pride and joys while other patrons cheered them on. The tradition createda type of subculture among the local riders and enhanced the spirit ofcamaraderie and brotherhood—something I understood very well.

After the most recent celebration died down, the patronsapplauding a vintage Indian Chief that gave the air a smoky hue as it passedthrough, I refocused on the guy I hadn’t seen in more years than I cared to admit.Jason Vigil. Tall, slim, and athletic, with dark hair and an easy smile. Thescrapper hadn’t changed at all. And he’d done well—not that I was surprised.But to have the bar filled to near-capacity at four in the afternoon on aweekday attested to the popularity of the place. And its owner.

While employees hustled to get ready for the evening rush,including the redhead, another biker revved his engine, and the scent ofgasoline set me on edge yet again.

“I’m not kidding,” I said to Jason, veering back onto thesame highway I’d been trying to exit for half an hour. “She went ballistic forno reason. How the fuck was I supposed to know she’d been waiting for thatpump? And was it really worth all that?”

I tipped an icy bottle of Corona to my lips and drained thelast drop as Jason fought a grin. He gestured to another of his servers,summoning a curvy brunette to our table.

“Hey, handsome,” she said to me, but the constant glancesshe’d been throwing Jason’s way for the last half hour, ones full of adorationand those little cartoon hearts, told me exactly where her interests lay. Andshe planned on keeping them there.

Jason frowned regardless. “This is Eric.”

“I figured.” She flashed me a flirtatious smile. It was hardto blame her. The girl lived off tips. And the heated glare I received fromJason as a result was well worth the C-note I’d drop on the table beforeleaving. “Eric Constantine Vause,” she said, giving me a thorough once-over. “That’sprobably the coolest name in recorded history.”

I couldn’t have stopped the arrogant grin that took over myface if I’d tried. “I like to think so. I take it Jason told you about hisslightly younger, much better-looking partner in crime?”

Jason cleared his throat a little too loudly.

She laughed and picked up the empty bottles. “I’m Betty. Twomore?”

I nodded, and she took off toward the bar, swaying her hipsfor Jason’s benefit and gifting me another chance to study a kid sitting aloneon a stool. One who looked like he’d only recently given up training wheels yetwas currently downing his third shot of whiskey despite that fact.

He raised his hand for another.

I shook my head, checked my watch, and went back to drawingon a napkin. Not the way I usually expressed my creativity, but desperate timesand all that. “Anyway,” I said, the agitation fizzling, “someone should checkthe water here. Chick was unstable as fuck.”

Jason finally caved and let a shit-eating grin spread acrosshis face. “She was beautiful, I take it?”

I stopped drawing and gaped at him for a solid thirtyseconds before tossing my pen onto the table and leaning back in my chair.“Fuck off,” I said under my breath, dangerously close to sounding like animpetuous child. Shewasbeautiful. Breathtaking. But that had nothingto do with the current situation.

Jason took the beers from Betty with a nod of thanks andplaced both on the table in front of me. “I’m sorry, man. I wouldn’t haveinvited you if I’d known this would happen.”

“Liar.”

“No, really. This trip was supposed to be relaxing. A chanceto get away from it all.”

I wrapped my fingers loosely around the neck of one of thebeers and took a long draw, feeling like shit for whining about something someaningless when I should be catching up with my oldest and dearest. “It is. Itwill be. I just need to chill.”

I honestly couldn’t figure out why the incident bothered meso much. Maybe because I could already see the headline.Video Goes ViralWhen Undermedicated Woman Loses Her Shit at Gas Station.

All because I’d pulled into a nearby convenience store totop off before hooking up with Jason. The pumps were all taken, save one. I’deased into the spot and turned off my engine, only to have a woman driving ablack Chevy short bed at the next pump get out of her truck and start screamingat me. Apparently, the card reader at her pump wasn’t working, and she’d beenwaiting for the one I’d pulled into.

No clue how I was supposed to know that.

I ignored her, filled my tank in under a minute, thenstraddled my Harley again before giving her my full attention.

She stood glaring at me as a soft breeze filtered sunlightthrough her silky blond hair. Hair that brushed her face like it craved thetouch. When I continued to stare—partly in belligerence and partly in awe—shewent off again, shouting at me about fucking manners and fucking motorcyclesand fucking morons from New Mexico. She’d probably recorded my plate to reportme to the gas pump police. So, I started my engine and revved it to drown outher curse words. I have sensitive ears.

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