Page 42 of Obey

We find out pretty fast why she gave us GPS coordinates and not an address.

The “super secret club hideout” is away from the major roads, down a dirt track that would be nearly impossible for a regular car to travel down. I guess it’s good we’d rented motorcycles so we’d blend in more, but it would be hard to get close without being noticed with the roar of the bikes working against us.

We hide them and walk the rest of the way.

I curse the mosquitos and small gnats as we walk, eyeing the swamp around us with trepidation. As long as we stay on the main road, we should be fine, but stepping into the soggy marsh would be unpleasant at the very least.

My t-shirt is already sticking to my back, and I long for fucking dry heat instead of this morass of humidity and misery.

“Good place to hide some bodies,” Knives mutters.

“I’ll tell Silvano,” I say dryly. The talk is nice, I guess; it’s better than the ride there with only the sounds of the motorcycle ride to accompany my racing thoughts.

I can’t get away from last night no matter how hard I try; I keep thinking about how good it had felt to be thoroughly worked over… and to be taken care of afterward. Knives hadn’t needed to provide any kind of aftercare—though it would’ve been a total dick move not to—but he’d stuck around long enough to make sure I was okay.

At least, as close to okay as I can get.

Knives suddenly stops and holds his arm out to prevent me from going farther. He points ahead, where the road widens enough for a small shack and a few lone motorcycles. There’s a small pier on the other side, with one of those Louisiana swamp boats I’ve seen in movies.

“What are the chances it’s empty?” he whispers to me.

“None,” I murmur back. There are too many bikes out here for it to be empty, even at this time of day. Maybe they’re a bunch of drunks sleeping it off, but there are enough of them here to cause a problem.

“Wish we had more backup.” Knives unholsters his gun and shakes his head. “I’m starting to suspect Silvano just wants us dead.”

I barely fight back a bitter laugh. Yeah. That would make a lot of sense right about now. “I’m sure he didn’t think we’d end up in the middle of the swamp when he sent us down here,” I say.

And I don’t mention the part where this is my fault, either. If I’d been more on top of these shipments…

I still would’ve ended up down here. It would’ve been sooner rather than later, but I probably would’ve been able to choose my own backup.

I shake my head, wiping sweat off of my forehead before following suit and grabbing my own gun. I’ll let Knives take point, even though my pride is wounded from the whole thing. I can’t let that get in the way, though. I can always wallow with a drink later—after this has been handled.

After we’re far from here, away from the humidity and the dank air and the way sweat clings to my body like plastic wrap.

We stick to the edges of the small clearing, for all the good it does. The large trees don’t hide us, but at least we aren’t leaving obvious footprints where somebody will immediately see them.

Knives circles around to the back of the shack. His shirt is clinging to his back just like mine is, the humidity making it impossible for sweat to evaporate.

He stops near an open window. I hear a fan running inside, along with some low conversation.

“I should propose,” one of the men inside says. “After we sell all this and I get my cut. I’ll buy a huge diamond.”

“Dude, diamonds are a waste. Women just leech off of us. She should be begging for you to marry her, not getting a diamond.”

I roll my eyes. These guys are hardly a catch.

Who calls themselves Demon Gators, anyway?

I don’t know how they’re sitting out here in the middle of nowhere with just a fucking fan. It might only be March, but it’s far from pleasant out here.

Maybe I’m just a wuss.

I’m sure as hell not coming back here in the summer, though.

I point to the door, giving Knives a questioning look.

Knives mouth a word at me, but I have no fucking clue what he’s trying to say.

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