Page 100 of No Saint
Wolf’s arms came around me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head. “You look happy. That’s all I care about.”
Warmth spread through my chest. I didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with Wolf, but here I was…over rats, of all things.
“I know something that would make you just as happy.” I turned to face him, and a cocky smile pulled at his lips.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
I reached for his belt and lowered his fly before sinking to my knees.
“Yeah, that definitely makes me happy,” he said when I wrapped my lips around him.
It didn’t matter how messy things had been between us, only that we’d found our way back to each other.
Twenty-Six
Wolf
Two days ago, we’d tried to steal a catalytic converter off a Prius parked behind the Piggly Wiggly. All Jade had to do was be the lookout, but instead of watching for the owner, she had been hyper focused on some crackhead on the corner shouting, “The end is nigh.” By the time she whistled to alert me, the owner of the Prius was already halfway to the car. I had to book it through the woods at the back of the store—without the converter. But tonight, I thought I’d finally found something Jade-proof. Break into a dead man’s trailer in the middle of the woods. No alarms. No owner. No witnesses…
Jade followed close behind me as we cut through the dark, overgrown lot. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispered, pressing close when I stopped in front of the door. “No, I can’t believeI’mdoing this. You…”
I huffed a laugh before wedging the crowbar into the doorjamb. “Me, what?” One hard tug, and the door popped open, the unwelcoming scent of stale air and curdled milk creeping out.
“You’re a criminal.”
“Good thing you’re into that.”
Jade followed me into the dark living room, cutting on her phone’s flashlight before she closed the door. “Usually…”
“You mean you don’t want to screw on his bed?”
She frowned when I glanced back at her. “There’s something wrong with you.”
Laughing, I moved past the tattered couch to one of the end tables.
“This is so low,” she whispered. “I feel…dirty.”
If I were honest, so did I. “The guy is dead. He doesn’t need this stuff. It’s just going to sit here and rot.” And I knew that because I’d browsed the obituaries looking for some poor, unfortunate soul with no surviving relatives
“Still…you think he diedinhere?” Jade shined the light over a cluttered sideboard. “Smells like it.” She rifled through a few things. “Surely, an old man in a trailer won’t have anything of value.”
Everything had some kind of value, and in the situation Jade was in, every penny counted.
“You’d be surprised,” I said, rummaging through a drawer filled with junk—papers, screws, matches…
“Baseball cards are a thing, right?” she asked, pulling a small stack of tattered cards from another drawer.
“Yeah. Shove ‘em in your pocket.”
I opened another drawer, and something clattered to the floor behind me. The light dipped when Jade crouched.
“Oh, my God.” She shoved to her feet and gripped my arm. “We should go. I think he was a serial killer.”
“What?”
She shined the light over the floor, and theteethscattered across it.
“What the fuck?” The longer I stared at them, the hair on my arms lifted. I reminded myself that Mom had kept my baby teethin a travel toothbrush case, but then Jeffrey Dahmer had kept brains in his fridge…
