Page 19 of Caught Up

I sighed. That was our code for an emergency, the sign to drop whatever you were doing and get home immediately. The temptation to ignore the order for once was strong, but Dad wasn’t one to cry wolf. Shit was going down.

Reluctantly, I guided my bike out of the parking spot. It’d be faster to go south down the street, but Lauren was headed north, and I couldn’t resist one last look at her. Revving the engine higher than necessary, I pulled into the lane, my head turned just enough to see her watch me pass.

Don’t worry, Lo.I’ll be back soon.

“I’m telling you,” Alec said, “it’s the perfect size for a head.”

I stabbed my shovel into the ground and turned to face him in the lantern light. It was ten o’clock at night, and we were playing theage-oldgame of Guess What’s in the Box.

“Why would he have us bury a head?” I asked.

My brother shrugged. “I don’t know? Future blackmail on whoever killed the guy?”

“It’s something else,” I argued. Dad was too smart to hold on to body parts.

“Fine,” Alec said, spearing his shovel into ourhalfway-dughole and hefting out another load of claggy soil. “It’s a priceless chalice.”

“Gold bars,” I countered. “It’s heavy enough for it.”

“Maybe,” Alec said.

I let him dig on his own while I stretched my shoulders. My muscles were starting to tighten up, and I was worried the knife wound had bled through its bandages because there was a stickiness dripping down my side that felt too thick to be sweat. We’d been out here for an hour already, fighting through layers of clay, but Dad told us to dig the hole deeper than normal, so that’s what we were doing.

My phone dinged with a familiar notification. Alec seemed like he was fine on his own for a few more minutes, so I pulled it out of my pocket to see a photo message from Lauren on Me4U. She was in awell-appointedbathroom with bright marble floors, dark patterned wallpaper, and antique brass fixtures. Her outfit was ridiculous. Not because it was ostentatious, but because all it would take was one brush of my fingers to have thatloose-fittingwhite silk minidress sliding down her curves.

Want to see more?the message read. Below was an option to tip her twenty dollars. Lauren did this at least once a week, so I knew that if I hit the tip button, I’d get another, spicier photo as a reward. This was where she must make bank. The message went out on blast to all her subscribers, and I was sure the vast majority of us were more than willing to shell out twenty bucks to see her tits or ass or—please, god—her completely nude body, bent over the bathroom sink, waiting to be taken from behind.

I glanced up at Alec, but he was still sweating away digging the hole, so I tipped Lauren. A few seconds later, the second photo hit my inbox. She stood in the same position, but with her arms braced on the counter behind her and her head tilted back. Her dress was pooled at her hips, tits on full display in the golden light.

Goddamn. What I wouldn’t give to step into the picture and suck one pert nipple into my mouth aft—

“Or it’s so heavy because it’slead-lined,” Alec said, jarring me back to reality.

I locked the phone and stashed it away. Now wasn’t the time to daydream. Hefting my shovel, I started digging again, and even though I knew I would probably regret it, I took Alec’s bait. “Why would the box belead-lined?”

“Plutonium.”

He had obviously started using drugs. “Fucking plutonium?”

Alec grinned, looking unhinged because of the harsh angle of the lantern. “Why not? Dad’s gotten awfully cozy with that Bratva guy.”

“Boris? He’s not Bratva. He’s a butcher.”

“Suuure he is,” Alec said, his tone exaggerated.

I shook my head. “You and your conspiracy theories. It’s obviously some kind of test.”

He lifted out another load of soil, and I stabbed my shovel down as soon as his was clear, both of us working in tandem, as we had countless times before. The amount of random shit buried in this part of the forest would one day confuse the fuck out of a future archaeologist.

“What do you mean, it’s a test?” Alec said.

“I bet there’s a tracker in here or something, and he wants to see how deep it needs to be buried for the soil to dampen the emission.”

“Now who’s the conspiracy theorist?”

I shrugged. “Or maybe he ordered us to do this because he knew that not knowing would drive us crazy.”

Alec threw his shovel aside and dropped to his knees. “What’s in the box?” he yelled, doing his best Brad Pitt impersonation.

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