Page 65 of Graveyards & Greed

“Who’s texting you at four in the morning?” Drakos grumbled sleepily.

“They have a body for me. Go back to sleep.” That was technically true. I kissed his shoulder, rolled out of bed, and got ready in seven minutes flat.

My conscience twinged at my deceit, and I wondered what Drakos would think of me if he found out. But the MC needed a hard wake-up call before things escalated to the point of no return, and I’d enjoy making an example out of that evil little fuck.

I needed Fenn to grab a few things so I shot him a text.

Sylvie: Stop at Starbucks and get four trenta-size ice caramel blond lattes, with whole milk and four shots of cane sugar each

Fenn: WTF is trenta, and are you trying to give yourself diabetes?

I rolled my eyes.

Sylvie: Just ask for the largest size, and get four. With whip cream

Half an hour later, Declan and Fenn pulled into the back parking lot of the Palm Desert Oasis cemetery. We used the area to store landscaping and maintenance equipment, the grave-digging backhoe, and a large, walk-in storage container.

Fenn drove his multipurpose minivan with Carver passed out in the back. They’d duct-taped his wrists and legs together, and he had bruises all over his face and a bloody, swollen nose.

Kilian and I had prepared the space earlier. We loaded a simple wood casket into the mortuary hearse and set it up on a sturdy metal worktable inside the container. He also got handcuffs, chains, and a funnel with tubing. Kilian drove into the lot as we stared down at the bastard.

“Where’d you get him?” I asked as Kilian got out and walked toward us.

Declan shrugged and slung an arm around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head. He was still limping, but seemed in good spirits otherwise.

I didn’t see the twins as often as I used to. Their business had grown into a small empire, keeping them both busy. Marijuana had become a major industry and tourist attraction in Vegas, with Sin City boasting the largest dispensary in the world at over a hundred thousand square feet. Planet 13 was a fantasy Wonka Land for marijuana enthusiasts.

Declan looked down at Carver and nudged his thigh. “The pissant fucker made it back to his apartment around three this morning still shitfaced. When he got off his motorcycle and turned to take a wiz, I stunned him. It was almost too easy.”

“How long do we have until he wakes up?”

“Maybe ten minutes. I’ve been stunning him regularly whenever he starts stirring.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The smell of urine makes sense now, and it looks like you did more than stun him.”

Declan shrugged. “He may have landed on my fist a few times since Kilian told us we couldn’t castrate him or light him on fire.”

Fenn walked over and looked inside the container. We’d removed some old equipment to make room, and cut four holes in the sides of the casket big enough for his hands and feet to fit through. They hefted Carver, grunting and bumping the sides a few times before laying him inside the wooden box.

“Can you take his clothes off?” I asked.

Fenn pulled out a knife hilt, flicked his wrist, and a sharp, wicked switchblade popped open. Declan grinned and pulled out a utility knife, then pried the blade open.

I rolled my eyes. “Are you two comparing knives or dicks?”

Fenn snorted and reached in to cut through the duct tape. Then, he wrestled Carver’s MC cut and shirt off while Kilian worked on his boots and started cutting off his pants.

Declan grimaced. “Along with the urine, he smells like vomit and dirty socks. And he’s fucking commando.”

I could smell Carver’s unwashed body from where I stood. “At least you didn’t have to touch his dirty underwear,” I offered.

He wrinkled his nose. “No, just his bare ass.”

Carver moaned and started waking up as I grabbed the cuffs and chains. “We need to pull his hands and feet through the holes in the casket, then put the cuffs and chains on,” I instructed. “We’ll link the cuffs with the chains underneath the casket so it can be opened occasionally but he’s still restrained.”

Declan gave me a puzzled look, but Fenn understood what I wanted. In no time, a naked Carver lay cuffed with chains attached to his restraints running under the casket.

Kilian set up a tripod and digital video recorder in the corner and turned it on. “I’ll edit us out before sending over the video to OutKast.”

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