Page 29 of Holiday Scars
Cold biting my skin, I carry one of the Feds from the car in the perfect tarped cocoon all the way to the edge of the dock. With Jett grabbing the feet, and me holding the shoulders, we swing the body.
“On three,” I say.
The body launches into the water, and we go back for the other. Each time the ripples spread, they send tremors across the black, dull surface. When the last trace of the agentsdisappears, I stare at the water until I see Jett in the blurry reflection.
He’s beside me, silent.
“We agree, right? We can’t tell Rhys or Connor. They’ll see us as a liability.”
“It was my kill,” Jett says, still sounding out of it.
“Your kill is my kill. But the Feds aren’t another mafia family. The Quinlans will send us to that torture camp in Dunbar, Ireland.”
Jett looks at me, and finally, the weight of what happened and what’s at stake sinks in.
I reach for him, but stop myself. “Maybe it’s best if we part ways for a while,” I say, instead of holding him even if he really needs me to. “Take that job you mentioned.”
His expression cracks like thin ice. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” I grind out, feeling sick. “If there is any chance someone finds out about this, more Feds will be looking for two men. A team.”
Jett looks like I’ve just hit him, then he exhales, “Whatever you say, boss.”
We drive back to the cabin in silence. Dirk’s already home, pulling up the blood-soaked boards. When I don’t see Hana, I ask, “Did that Fed touch her?”
“Pinned her down, but he didn’t get further.” He looks ready to detonate. “She’s taking a bath.”
“I’m so fucking sorry.” I want to hug him, but I don’t.
“Those Feds were here because of me, not you,” he says. “This was not your fault. You made the problem go away.” He looks over his shoulder. “Or rather your...boyfriend did.”
“He’s not,” I stuff that down. “We’re just...chilling this weekend.”
God, I hate myself, but that’s too much for everyone to deal with. I doubt Dirk will remember these details after tomorrow.
“I got the Fed’s phone IPs and a friend will monitor any communication,” I say. “If this cracks open, we’ll deal with it.”
We look at the floor, and Dirk says, “I’ll burn the boards I pulled up and get a guy to replace them. I know people, too. This is my mess to clean.”
“We will never let you take the fall,” I say.
Wemeans Jett and me. But I told him this was just a fling and that we need space.
Dumbass.
Jett’s already in the bedroom taking a shower, his clothes in the fireplace burning to ash.
When the living room is empty again, I sink into a familiar comfort when it all gets too much. Isolation.
I grab a blanket, collapse on the sofa, and throw it over my head. I used to think I knew what loneliness was. But this...this is something else.
Because now I know what real warmth feels like. To have a man touch and kiss me who loves me.
I doubt I’ll ever have it again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jett
