Page 20 of The Grave Robber

“You kept yet another body out of the ground. Your reputationremains intact, Grave Robber.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. I failed. “That’s a ridiculousnickname. And what does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, let’s see.” He looked up in thought. “You got thenickname when you punched an opponent in the solar plexus so hard he stoppedbreathing.”

“I was there.”

“And you fell to your knees, ripped off your gloves, andstarted doing CPR in the middle of the ring.”

Too bad I hadn’t thought to do that several years ago when Ipunched a man in a bar fight and knocked him unconscious. He later died. I hadevery intention of turning myself in, but the leader of the motorcycle club Ibelonged to, one of the best friends I’ve ever had, convinced me not to. Toldme to lay low. As a result, a video of the incident showed up on our doorstep afew weeks later, and we were blackmailed into committing some pretty horrendouscrimes. More importantly, I lost the ability to take a swing at anyone for anyreason. I was supposedly destined through prophecy to fight in a war againstSatan himself, but I could no longer fight. I was as useless as a knittedcondom.

“I. Was. There,” I reminded Jason. “And?”

“And today you robbed another grave.”

“How do you figure that?” Thankfully, realization dawnedbefore I looked like a complete idiot. “Oh, right. Zachary.”

“See? Self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Let’s not talk about prophecies.”

“Whatev. When are you going to stop accepting beers you haveno intention of drinking and get some rest?”

I shook my head. “Not just yet. I want Halle’s address.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, so does every other man in this bar.”

I bit down and said under my breath, “She’s in more troublethan you or I ever imagined.”

He eased closer. “What do you mean?”

I moved even closer and said into his ear, “Unless I’mgreatly mistaken—it happens—she’s going to be murdered in about two months.”

Jason stilled and studied me as though trying to figure outif I was kidding or not.

“I don’t joke about death.” When he continued to stare, Iadded, “I mean, I do, but I’m not joking about this. I would never.”

“How?” he asked, his eyes glistening as emotion swelledinside him. As Halle’s reality sank in. After a few seconds, anger took hold,and he asked from between clenched teeth, “Who?”

“I’ll explain, but right now I need that address.”

He nodded and said, “Give me a sec,” before crossing thefloor to his office.

I followed.

“Are you okay to drive your bike? I can get you a ride.”

“I barely touched the beers they bought.”

He passed me a piece of paper with Halle’s address and ahand-drawn map of the slip she rented at the marina. “There’s that, too, butyou’re pretty beat up. Your wounds looked serious.”

“I’ve had worse. Trust me.”

“I know. I was usually the one giving them to you, but thistime is different.”

“Not really. Being hit by you or a six-ton delivery truckfeels startlingly similar.”

“Vause,” he said, not buying it.

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