Page 589 of Filthy Elites

I look at the unmoving body under me, and glance at my bloodied hands.

Fuck.

“Is he…” Erica doesn’t say the word.

Dead.

I think he is. He’s dead, and I made it happen. I killed him. I’ve murdered someone with my bare hands.

I don’t regret it. Not one bit. He wanted to hurt Erica. He laughed because he thought he had.

She takes both of my bloodied hands and squeezes. “It’ll be all right. Camden?” she calls. “We need to move him back to the house.”

I blink. Move him?

“You might have missed it, darling, but it’s on fire.” Camden might as well be talking about the weather.

“So imagine how hard it’ll be for the authorities to determine the cause of death,” she shoots back. “Shove the body in the fire, guys,please.”

That doesn’t sound like the worst idea. I take the hands and Cam, the feet. We shove him through the open door and close it behind him.

Erica’s supporting herself on one foot, leaning on a tree trunk when I reach her. I press my lips against hers, and close my eyes.

She’s here. She’s safe.

She kisses me back without any protest, meeting me stroke for stroke.

“At the risk of being obvious, guys,” Cam says, “everything’s on fire. Let’s go.”

If he didn’t have a point, I would punch him for interrupting us.

I bend to lift Erica in my arms. I let Cam lead the way, following him with my girl safe against me. “Where are you hurt?”

“My wrist and my foot, that’s all.” Her head rests against my chest. “I fell running away from him, then he pulled me by the ankle for a while. When I came to, he was tying me to a chair. He spooked when Cam came in, but he’d already poured some gas on the floor, so he just lit it on fire. Cam got me out.”

If our timing had been off by even a few minutes, things would have been much, much worse.

“We need a story,” she says. “You guys were following me, yes, but the house was already on fire when you got here. You saw me, got me out, and never noticed anyone else in there. Vince probably fell down and hit his head or something.”

I chuckle, though moments ago I’d believed I wouldn’t ever laugh again. “Have you always been such a conniving bitch?” I ask her, smiling down at her.

“Always,” she shoots back, just like the first time I asked her that.

“Did you hear my girl, Cam?”

My friend snorts. “Eighteen, and already covering up murder. You’d better snatch her up before I do. You’re going to have to do something about the blood on your hands, though.”

Shit, he has a point. If the police are waiting for us, I’m fucked.

“Put me down now,” Erica says.

Her words are my command, though smoke smothers us, and I can feel the heat of the fire drawing closer.

“Wipe your hands here.” She lifts her skirt, presenting me the silky lining.

I rub the back of my fingers and hands until the dampness is gone. “It’s still red.”

Blood’s a bitch to clean up.

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