Page 128 of Wicked Games

“I’ve got him,” Jace says, his unhurt arm wrapped tightly around Felix. “Go see who the fuck that was.”

I nod and slip Jace’s knife back into his pocket.

Xave and Jax are already heading toward the other side of the road. I jog to catch up with them as they approach the body lying next to one of the bigger trees, a rifle with a scope on the ground beside him.

Xave and Jax keep their weapons trained on the body while I kick the gun away, making sure it’s out of his reach just in case the fucker is playing possum.

“Here.” Xave holds out his gun.

I take it and train it on the fucker as Jax slips his own gun into his waistband, and both he and Xave kneel so they can better inspect the body.

Xave pulls his sleeves down so his hands are covered and reaches into the guy’s back pocket to pull out a wallet. He tosses it to Jax, then quickly pats him down and pulls a phone out of his left front pocket.

Jax takes the phone from him and Xave rolls the body over, being careful not to touch any part of it with his bare hands. We won’t be calling the police to deal with this, but it’s still better to not contaminate the scene with our DNA if we can help it.

The guy looks like he’s in his mid-to-late forties with a dark buzz cut and no distinguishing features or marks that I can see. He’s wearing head-to-toe black, and his rifle is top of the line, but nothing about the hit is screaming highly trained professional.

“Anything?” I ask.

Jax doesn’t look up from where he’s rooting through the guy’s wallet. “Depends if he’s carrying his real ID or not, but he’s got a full identity in here. ID, credit cards, cash, even a few store reward cards and some stamps from a fast-food place.”

“Then it’s probably legit.” Xave pulls his phone out. “What kind of moron carries his real ID when he’s trying to off someone?”

“Either a professional who got cocky or someone who lied on their résumé.” I lower my gun. There’s no way this fucker is getting up with a bullet in his chest and another in his stomach. Xave’s double tap was accurate, as usual.

“Nice shots,” I say belatedly.

He tosses me a grin and hands his phone to Jax. “Nice run.”

Jax takes it and glances at the display screen before putting it to his ear. “Hey, Dad, it’s me,” he says after a beat of silence. “Yeah, I’m on Xave’s phone. We have a situation.”

I hold Xave’s gun out to him. “All good?”

Now that I know the threat has been neutralized and it’s being called in, I need to check on Felix.

He nods and takes it. “Go ahead.”

Leaving them to deal with the call and the body, I hurry back to the car.

Jace is sitting sideways on the back seat, his feet on the ground. Felix is kneeling in front of him, a mess of used first aid supplies scattered around them.

“Did you know your guy is a bona fide Florence Nightingale?” Jace asks when he sees me. “Cleaned me right up and bandaged it like a pro.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?” I kneel beside them and check out his handiwork.

The gauze he wrapped around the wound is tight and clean, and most of the blood has been scrubbed from his upper arm.

“Took a lot of first aid classes when I was training to be a lifeguard.” His voice is monotone, but his eyes are full of emotion as he glances at me.

“You were a lifeguard?” I ask stupidly.

“No, but I took all the courses to be one.” He starts cleaning up the ripped-open packages littering the ground around his feet. “Guess it stuck.”

His hands are shaking, and I gently cover them with mine.

He stops trying to clean up and looks at me. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Come on. Let’s go over there for a bit.”

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