Page 20 of Property of Bigfoot
“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” My uncle’s frantic voice as he pulled me into a tight hug made my heart squeeze. I wasn’t sure my own dad would have reacted the same way. I could only imagine annoyed indifference from him.
“I’m okay. The guy who came to kill me in my sleep? Not so much.”
Brady set me to the side and marched back to my bedroom. He stopped just short of the body, and I saw when he noticed that my bed had a few new holes in it. “What the fuck? Sammy, he shot you!”
“No, he shot my bed. Luckily, it wasn’t breathing before he shot it.”
“You could have been in that bed. Why weren’t you in it?”
I made my way to Brady and wrapped my arms around him again. “I’m okay. I heard something and hid beside the bed with my gun. As soon as I had a clear shot, I took it.” I pointed down to the body that continued to pump blood onto my floor. “Look, he’s dead. I’m not. The only worry I have now is how the hell I’m going to clean this up. I’ve never really put a lot of thought into how to dispose of a body before. I mean, I’ve had plenty of fantasies of taking Colleen out, but the dream is of ending her, not the cleanup afterward.” It was a long-winded ramble that left my uncle looking a little shocked.
“You’re not okay.” He glanced down at the body and then back up at me. “You said no cops, but sweetheart, we have to call someone.”
“The club,” I muttered.
“The club?”
I nodded. “Bigfoot, Baffle, Jester…” I thought about that for a minute. “Probably Jester, he has a murder van that will be perfect for this.”
“What the fuck?” Brady asked before he took hold of my arms and shook me a little bit. He was gentle about it, but it was still jarring. “A murder van?”
“I doubt it’s really a murder van, but he did use it to clean up the last body I dropped.”
“The last body… Sammy, what in the hell is going on?”
“Call the Kings of Anarchy and have them send someone. This is no doubt linked to the assassination attempt on their president. Besides, they owe me for saving his bacon last time.”
I watched as Brady called the clubhouse number, spoke to someone and then spoke to another person. Once he was done, he hung up and pulled me back into his arms as he walked us over to the couch to take a seat and wait. My phone rang as we both let out a long breath and relaxed back into the couch.
“Sam Morton,” I said into my phone.
“Hi, this is Cricket and Bobby from site 4.” That’s all she said.
“Yes?” I prompted.
“Well, we thought we heard gunshots and got worried. These RV walls are thin and they ain’t stopping bullets.”
“Nothing to worry about, Cricket. I shot a rattlesnake trying to crawl into my cabin.”
“A rattlesnake? I didn’t know you had rattlesnakes on the property.”
“It’s not like we can stop nature from happening.”
“No, no. I get that. What kind of rattlesnake?”
“Mojave,” I said without thinking.
“I thought they were in Arizona.”
“We see them sometimes in New Mexico.” That wasn’t entirely true, at least not as far north as I was. “We had a regular old Arizona black rattler.” Honestly, it was a pretty apt description of the asshole lying dead in my bedroom doorway. He was dressed all in black, which was dumb in a desert, since he wouldn’t blend with anything like that.
“Oh, okay. Well, wait, aren’t they from Arizona too?”
“You do realize we’re less than twenty minutes from Arizona, right?”
“Oh, that makes sense. Sorry to bother you.” It sounded like Cricket meant to hang up but missed the button. “Bobby, we need to pack up and get out of here. They have a rattlesnake problem here.”
“We’re in the freaking desert, Cricket. Of course there’s rattlers.”
