Page 86 of With A Little Luck
That was concise.
Focusing on Knox, I shove my phone away and pull out the latex gloves I brought just in case. “We need to get them out of sight. There’s not much that can be done about the bone fragments, but cover the blood in the Coke. Let it sit for five minutes and have a field day with the oil. It’s not perfect, but itwill help cover the smell and wash away evidence.” I toss a pair of gloves at his chest. “While I’m in the jewelry store, I need you to find dinner. Ridge and Hartley were still assembling a dresser when I checked. I doubt they’ve had a chance to think about feeding Quincy.”
Knox blinks at me with wide eyes. “You scare me.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes.
They should all be afraid. This was a complete waste of time. If they had warned us we had a tail, we could have captured at least one of those assholes alive.
“Help me check for cell phones or IDs. We need to be quick.”
Everyone in my general vicinity should be very grateful that the jewelry store owner was willing to stay late. I’m sure the five hundred dollars I offered just for staying open an additional thirty minutes helped matters.
There’s a pep in my step as I make it back to the alleyway.
Leo and Shaw stand around, talking among themselves.
I nod, stopping to investigate whether Knox followed my instructions.
It appears he did.
That’s a good sign.
Of course my half brother is nowhere to be seen. Much like Costa Maloney is intelligent enough to order around his minions, Easton holds the same cold indifference for his employees. He’ll likely do a quick survey of the area after the dumpster has been removed, but he won’t show his face until the majority of the crime has been cleaned up.
In general, I prefer to be the one to clean up my crime scenes, but I’m very rarely forced into action in public.
“East has a truck on the way that will be able to swap out the dumpster,” Shaw says, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “Once that’s in place, he’ll have another team come in and cook some s’mores.” He holds his hands out, flipping them like he’s warming himself by a fire. He winks. “If you get what I mean.”
I blink repeatedly.
Is there something in the water here that makes grown men lose brain cells? I’ll need to be careful not to drink the tap water.
“Enough. He gets it.” Leo slams his shoulder into Shaw’s and looks at me. “How’s Ridge doing? Still losing his shit?”
I glance toward the end of the alleyway. That reminds me, I’m in a hurry. “He was fine when I saw him earlier. We have an appointment tomorrow with the obstetrician.” I offer a polite smile. “Thank you for the assist earlier. I have to go.”
“Are yousurehe’s not related to Easton?” Shaw asks, failing to keep his voice low enough to prevent me from hearing the question.
I scoff.
Easton must not have shared that piece of information with them.
Not that I care.
I have more important things to tackle, like where the hell Knox disappeared to. Making it to the mouth of the alley, I turn right and follow the next equally smelly alleyway past the back of the restaurant and toward the parking lot.
Once I hit the sidewalk, I take it parallel with the building until the railing ends and stride across the roundabout that circles the front of the building. The parking area is raised, with a walkway in the middle and another railing to prevent cars from pulling forward too far and heading over the three-foot decline.
The same feeling I always get when I’m being watched hits me right in the gut, and I frown, swiveling my head and taking inventory of the parking lot. Well, that instinct might be on thefritz, considering I never noticed the men in the alley until it was nearly too late.
However, the hostess from the restaurant that Knox spent several hours flirting and chatting with stares directly at me with wide eyes. Her hands are glued to the steering wheel, like she’s holding on for dear life.
She twists and frantically digs for something in the passenger seat, and I sigh, making my way to the driver’s side door.
I keep the jewelry bag in my left hand and use the knuckles of my right to knock on the window. Her head whips up, and she shoves her key into the ignition, starting the vehicle.
It’s frigid.
