Page 52 of Beneath the Surface

“I saw something. It might be nothing, but it might be something. When I was cutting back across the lake, I noticed a path…one I’d never seen before, leading down to a little beach. Something caught my eye, and I pulled over to check it out.” I stumbled out the words, then paused to lick my lips. “From there, you have an unobstructed view of your boat. But not only that, on the beach, right in the center, there’s a pile of rocks.”

“Rocks…” Grayson said slowly.

I gave them a nod. “Like a cairn. A place to mark a burial site.”

“Shit,” Micah cursed, and Ava jumped up from where she was sitting and came to stand on the other side of Grayson.

She gave me a worried smile, then placed her hand on Grayson’s arm and gave him a tentative squeeze. Ava was offering comfort, letting him know we were all in on this. I guess I wasn’t the only one who knew the golden boy was losing his shit.

“Micah, take care of Ava. Come on, golden boy, hop on. We are going to check this shit out.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Grayson spat at me.

“We’re not staying here,” Micah shot back.

“Yeah, we are coming with you,” Avan backed him up.

“I can only fit one more person with me. If someone is hiding there by any chance, Grayson and I can take them.”

“You just got in a fight,” Ava snapped back.

“When was this?” Micah demanded to know.

“You can’t be getting into fights right now, Martinez. We’re already on a loose rope. One wrong move, and not only are you fucked, but you might drag us down with you.”

Grayson’s words cut because they mirrored what I was already feeling.

I let out a humorless chuckle.

“I don’t think it counts as a fight if I wasn’t allowed to fight back. Now get on, and let’s get this over with.”

No one argued after that. I turned the Jet Ski so Grayson could jump right on the back.

“Shit,” I hissed when the Jet Ski almost tipped to one side, and Grayson wrapped one hand across my chest so he could stabilize himself.

“My bad,” he mumbled.

I didn’t say anything, just let out a ragged breath as he let go of me and instead put his hands on the sides. I began to drive slower so he wouldn’t fall off. I wasn’t too much of an asshole.

“Bruised ribs?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“I got a heating pad if you want to borrow it.”

His offer surprised me.

“You use it when you’re on the rag, Cross.”

The asshole laughed.

“They don’t happen often, but they are a casualty of the sport.”

Now, I knew hockey players were crazy or idiotic. Like hell I would play a sport that would damage my bones, teeth, or brains.

“You hockey players are fucking crazy,” I mumbled.

“You’re one to talk. What speed does your car hit? I’m betting enough to kill you in seconds if you fuck up on the tracks.”

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