Page 567 of Lodestar

D high-fived me. “I like the way you think.”

“You don’t hold much loyalty for family, do you?” Conor asked.

“Some family you make, you’re not born with.” She hooked her arm around my neck. “Star’s not blood, but she might as well be. Then, throw in the fact that Temper’s chasing after my man, she’s fair game.”

“Don’t ask, Conor,” I quipped when he seemed set to pepper her with questions.

Releasing her hold on me, D loped over to the shipping container with the key I handed her and Conor’s super-bright flashlight.

“Get ready for a stink,” she warned cheerfully.

I grimaced when the scent of death immediately flooded the clearing. Not even a brisk wind swept it away, and the coffin flies that buzzed out didn’t travel far either.

D popped her head into the container and shouted, “This is both gross and cool, Star. You need to come and look.”

“I’m assuming you’re not excited about the corpse?” I mocked as I stepped into the container with my go bag in hand.

By comparison to what I’d smelled in Afghanistan after a battle, this was practically pleasant, but I still withdrew a jar of Vaporub from my gear and swiped it under my nose.

“Jesus Christ,” Conor rumbled from behind me, immediately spinning on his heel and heading outside.

Though I knew she pricked her ears for the sounds of him vomiting because I saw the disappointment flash over her expression, D still teased, “I’ll tell Troy, Conor. She’ll go back to calling you Glitter?—”

When Conor stepped inside, he had Temper over his shoulder. “Fuck off,Lucinda.”

After he dumped Temper, I tossed the jar of Vaporub at him. “Heads-up, love.”

He grabbed it, swiped it under his nose, but still gagged while D, totally unoffended with his banter, chuckled and waved a hand at the wall. “Reinier was an artist with a grudge.”

I hummed at the mural of dried shit then stared at the corpse which was, no nicer way to describe it, seeping. “He can’t have survived long after I dealt with him.”

“So this was his last message,” Conor mused around a retch as he bowed over, hands on his knees as the virulent stench seemed to grow stronger now that fresh air was streaming and not trickling into the container.

D and I shared a look but didn’t comment.

If anything, I wished I were like him and wasn’t accustomed to these kinds of horrors.

“Maybe apply some more?” I suggested.

He waved a hand over his head. “Don’t worry about me. Nothing to see here.”

D snorted but mused, “Reinier’s penmanship could do with some work but it’s definitely an address.”

“He claimed he had an estate in Florida.” I studied the address. “Can you look it up for me, Conor?”

“Yeah,” he choked.

“Go stand by the door,” D ordered.

He didn’t argue.

Once he was over there, he said, “Tell me the address then I’ll disengage the signal blocker. Don’t speak until I have the location pinpointed. I’ll tell you when the blocker is re-engaged.” D nodded her understanding as I called out the address. After a short pause, he stated, “Okay. We’re free to talk. The address is in the Keys.”

“That’s our next port of call then,” I rasped.

“Nuh-uh,” D argued, grabbing my arm as I made to move toward the door. “I think it’s time you told us what this Bear guy said in his letter.”

With a shrug, because I had nothing to hide, I shoved my hand in my coat pocket and retrieved the note so I could pass it to her.

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