Page 67 of Property of Fox

“Then we regroup,” Fox replies, his tone unwavering. “We’ll figure this whole thing out. One step at a time.” A brief flicker of something darker crosses his expression, but he quickly masks it, keeping his focus on the road ahead. The hotel comes into view a few moments later. Fox pulls directly to the lobby entrance. He starts to get out but looks down at his hands, cursing. I took over, seeing what he did. Blood. The same blood that is now drying on my hands.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I can’t take you in like this. If security doesn’t stop me, the front desk will call the police.”

“I have blood on me, too,” I declare, showing him my hand and forearm. “What do I do?”

“Hide your arm the best you can behind Keira. They won’t notice it as much on you as they would on me. You’ll have to go in alone,” he sighs. “As much as I hate the idea, there’s no otherchoice. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a keycard, before handing it to me. “Go straight up to the room. Speak to no one. As soon as you’re inside, lock the door and text me.”

My heart sinks at the thought of separating from him, even for a moment, but I can’t let the fear win. Instead, I nod, swallowing hard as I tuck the keycard into the palm of my hand.

"What about you?”

“I’m going to go back to the house and take care of our problem.”

“Be careful,” I whisper, the words barely escaping my lips as Keira grips the seat, her wide eyes darting between us.

Fox leans in closer, his voice low and intense. “I promise you, Brea, we’ll be okay. Just do exactly as I say.”

“Okay,” I manage to reply, trying to muster some semblance of confidence. Keira is still trembling beside me, and I glance over at her, offering a reassuring smile that feels fragile at best.

“Ready?” Fox asks, and I nod again, though my stomach churns with uncertainty.

I nod. I reach for the door handle, glancing over at him once more, before slipping outside. Keira follows, closing the door behind us. As we walk into the lobby, I tuck myself tightly to Keira’s side, praying no one sees the blood on my hand and arm. I peer over my shoulder just as we make it inside. Fox is still in his spot, watching us until we round the corner for the elevators. I hit the call button repeatedly until it arrives. Anxiety ravages me until we make it to our floor, and nearly run to his hotel room. I usher Keira inside before locking the door and setting the deadbolt. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I send Fox a text.

We’re inside. Doors locked.

He replies almost instantly.

Do not open it for anyone but me, firefly. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

The silence in the room is deafening, punctuated only by the low hum of the air conditioning. Keira’s eyes dart around, scanning the space as if expecting danger to leap out from under the bed or behind the curtains.

“Brea,” her voice pulls me from my thoughts, trembling with raw emotion. “What are we going to do if he doesn’t come back?”

“Fox will come back,” I reassure her, but uncertainty slithers its way into my heart. “He knows what he’s doing.”

Keira lets out a shaky breath, leaning against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I just… I don’t want him to get hurt.” She glances at me, and in that fleeting moment, I see a flicker of fear mirrored in her green eyes—one that I can’t ignore.

“Neither do I,” I say softly, crossing over to her and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be back.”

“Do you think this was Tank?” Keira asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” I lie, knowing well enough that the man who broke into the house wasn’t just a random burglar. The second he saw me, he knew who I was. Recognition was clear as day on his face. He came for me. I guess what they say is true. You can’t run from your past. The only problem is that I’ve managed to drag not only Keira into this but Fox, too. And he has no idea what he’s walking into right now.

FOX

The man,still very dead, lines unnaturally still on the floor. His blood leaking from the wound in a pool around his head like a halo. I head down into the bathroom, searching the cabinets for anything that I can use. There’s a roll of gauze and heavy flow maxi pads on one of the shelves. “I don’t think they are meant a gaping knife wound when they marketed these for a heavy flow, but they’ll work,” I laugh to myself.

Under the sink, I find a box of latex gloves next to a large stash of vintage hair dye bottles. With the supplies in hand, Ihead back to the kitchen and deposit them on to the counter. I move towards the kitchen sink, opening the doors below. It’s like a treasure trove of cleaning supplies. I can stop the bleeding and clean up the mess, but how do I haul him out of here without making more of a mess for myself? I pivot, walking back down the hallway, opening doors as I walk by until I find a closet near Brea’s room. Inside, I find a mixture of old paint supplies, and there on the very bottom, is a plastic drop cloth.

“This is like the super center for covering up a murder,” I chuckle before I grab the drop cloth and head back into the kitchen. Slipping the gloves onto my hands, I kneel beside the body. My eyes are drawn to the gaping wound. Judging by the amount of blood, Brea had likely gotten his carotid artery on the first try. An efficient, but bloody way to go. I stand back up, surveying the scene in front of me. Cleaning up the mess will be the easiest part. I've done this dozens of times, but I have no idea where I can dispose of him. Back home, this wouldn’t be a problem, but I’m not in Indiana right now.

“Got any ideas, asshole?” I ask the corpse at my feet. “Any last wishes for where you want to spend eternity?” Silence answers me back. “Dealer’s choice it is.”

I take a deep breath, the smell of iron permeating the air like rancid perfume. I reach for supplies. One thing is for sure, this guy left one hell of a mess on the kitchen floor. I lean over him cautiously but with purpose. The body feels rigid beneath me as I place a couple of maxi pads on the wound before I wrap a length of gauze tight around his neck wound. There's no time to lose if I'm going to get this done right without raising alarms or attracting unwanted attention. It takes all I've got not to let my thoughts drift too far down that rabbit hole.

With one last tug the bandage is secured firmly enough so he won’t bleed out any more on the floor. My attention shiftsdownward among stray red smears leading under his torso like some twisted modern art piece.

“Let’s get your rolled over, shall we?” I carefully move him onto his side, my heart sinking as I see the familiar patch peeking out from below his shoulder blade. He's a Hoosier Hellion. “Motherfucker,” I swear. A fucking Hoosier Hellion broke into this house. What the hell was he even doing here? Why target this house and these women? It didn’t make sense. Keira sure didn’t seem like the cut bunny type outside the fictional ones in her books, and neither did Brea. The only obvious reason is me, but my cut is back in Lafayette. No one knew I was here unless someone uploaded a fucking photo of me from that goddamn signing or someone associated with the club was there too. Fuck, I should have never agreed to help Eden. I’ve put Brea into the crosshairs to play house with Eden for the weekend.

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