Page 30 of Double Down
7
Maverick
Even I knowthis is stupid—and that’s saying something from the man who just helped Phoenix kidnap a stray dog.
This? It’s too risky, even for me.
Out of all of us, I’m usually the one who’s willing to take the gamble, ready to throw the dice and shove my chips into the middle of the table.
We only live once, right? I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
So when I’m the voice of reason—when it’s my veins that are loud with adrenaline, and it’s me who’s jumping at every sound—that’s when I know we’re fucked.
Because if I’m the only one seeing the danger, that means that everyone else is already doomed.
My grip creaks on the tarp as I shift it higher on my shoulder and adjust, sweat slicking my palm and then going cold in the AC. Storm moves in counterpoint, adjusting his end.
We slept through the entire day, exhaustion and stress finally taking their toll on our bodies even if our brains wanted tokeep spinning. I only woke when a wet tongue dragged across my ear and a sharp, proud yip went off by the bed. Zeus—Phoenix’s brand-new, ill-advised surprise I helped her smuggle in last night—had his paws braced on the mattress, tail thudding against the bed in excited bursts. The others didn’t know he existed; they learned fast. Someone bolted upright swearing, someone else stepped straight into a cold, accusing puddle, and Phoenix half-laughed, half-groaned into her pillow. Despite the hours of near coma-sleep, I still felt run-down and sluggish when I finally pried my eyes open.
There is not enough coffee and hot showers in the world to make me feel right.
Conrad insists the first thing we do is get rid of the body, and it’s the right move. It just feels risky as hell.
We can’t keep her in the closet. Eventually the corpse is going to start to stink, and then housekeeping will find her and start asking questions. I get that.
What I don’t get is why we have her wrapped in a bright-blue tarp—Storm carrying her feet and me carrying her shoulders—as we walk out with what is obviously a corpse without clearing the path first.
We should have gone with a black tarp at the very least. Black wouldn’t have been quite as noticeable. I’m pretty sure that’s in the Handbook of How-To Dispose of Dead Bodies for Dummies. Atticus must have skipped that fucking part.
“There couldn’t be a worse night to do this,” I say through gritted teeth. “The resort is almost at capacity.”
“The Great Gatsby theme party was your idea,” Storm reminds me, glancing back.
“I planned that months ago. And thank fuck for it, because the revenue should start making a dent in this fifteen-percent bullshit.”
Storm makes a sound in the back of his throat that could mean agreement. We’ll make a game plan for that later. Body disposal first.
“How was I supposed to know we’d be taking out the trash tonight? Maybe you’ve got a crystal ball shoved up your butt, but ass play isn’t my thing,” I grunt.
Storm huffs a laugh and shifts more of the weight. “I thought ass playwasyour thing, though.”
“Only when they beg for it, and I like my women more…responsive.” I reply automatically. How is one skinny girl so heavy? Silicone shouldn’t weigh this much.
“It’s not like any guests are roaming the back corridors,” Atticus says in my earpiece. “They’re all in the bars or heading to the boat.”
“We have extra staff scheduled tonight, asshole.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Stop at the next corner and wait for my signal.”
Storm and I trade a look, roll our eyes, and stop.
“Can you believe that bitch Sarah didn’t show up today?” A voice floats down the hall.
“Yes, yes I can,” someone else says with a laugh. “She tried so hard to fuck one of the Titans, but none of them would even give her a second look. She probably got smart and cut her losses andfound some rich old guy to buy her stuff. That girl is determined to be someone’s sugar baby.”
“Really? She told me she was already hooking up with Maverick, and I swear I was jealous for a half second. Can you imagine being taken by someone as big as Tarzan,” the first voice says.
The second girl laughs. “No. He may have fucked her, but I promise you he didn’t even know her name. Rumor has it, he told her she wasn’t pretty enough to give bad head. He offered to pay for blow job classes, like for a charity tax write off.”
