Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
It caught me at the shin, sending me falling forward.
The shovel flew out of my hands, landing somewhere off in the distance as my hands braced to catch my fall.
The underbrush nipped at my palms as the impact shot up my arms into my shoulders.
My breath hissed out of me as I scrambled up, barely getting upright before I started to charge forward again.
Close. So close.
I shot past the corn maze, half expecting someone’s arms to reach out, grab me, stab me to death as well.
But as I passed the build-your-own-scarecrow section, I saw two shadowed figures move out from the front of the garden center.
My heart seized.
My steps faltered.
Until one of the men turned.
Domenico.
“Dom!” I shrieked, but the sound only came out as an airy yelp.
Still, his gaze caught my movement ,and I watched as he tensed up and nodded toward me.
The other man turned.
Dante.
“Dante!” I yelped, rushing forward.
“Hazel?” Dante called, rushing toward me. “What happened?”
“There’s… a… body…”
“What?” Domenico asked as Dante grabbed my arm like he was worried I might collapse. Hell, I felt like I just might.
“You’re bleeding,” Dante said, his fingers gently grabbing my chin and forcing my head all the way up so he could inspect the damage. “What happened?”
“There’s… someone…”
“In the woods?” Domenico asked, moving closer. “There’s someone in the woods?”
“A… body.”
“There are a lot of bodies in the woods,” Domenico said, brows scrunching.
“A real one. He… he’s dead. He was… stabbed.”
Dante’s gaze went to Domenico’s. It seemed like an entire conversation passed between them.
“Was there someone else in there?”
Yes.
Or… maybe not.
I heard something crunch. But it was the woods. There could have been an animal.
“I… I thought there was. But maybe not. I panicked.”
“Okay. It’s okay,” Dante said, way too calm considering I just told him there was a murdered body in his woods.
“We need to call the police.”
“Okay. We will handle all that,” Dante said, tone reassuring. “We need to get you cleaned up.”
“But…”
“Yours is the Jeep, right?” he asked, his arm already sliding around my lower back, guiding me away from Domenico.
I saw him reach into his pocket, saw something flash. A phone, maybe? But Dante was pulling me forward before I could see for sure.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home, babe,” he said.
“But… but the police will need my statement.”
“It’s alright. We need to get you cleaned up.”
He opened the passenger door of my car and gently coaxed me in.
The door slammed on my objections.
Then he was in my driver’s seat and asking me for my keys and address.
Maybe I should have put up a harder fight.
But it felt so good to have someone take charge, to take the responsibility off my shoulders.
With the fear removed and the adrenaline quickly draining, I felt a strange detachment settling in. One moment, we were in the garden center parking lot. The next, we were sitting in my apartment building parking lot. I hadn’t even noticed Navesink Bank passing us by.
“Come on. Let me get you cleaned up.”
Then he was around the car and his arm was around me.
I went ahead and let myself be led away from my troubles and taken care of.
I could worry about bodies and police reports later.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dante
I’d seen countless women come running out of those woods full of terror.
It never really bothered me.
Not until it was Hazel.
And there was blood on her face and hands.
I could tell from the look that Dom sent me as I said I would take Hazel home that he was questioning my choices. And later, when I made it back, I would insist it was simply a way to distract her, to prevent her from calling the cops and having them swarm all around an actual mob front.
I knew, though, that it was simply about wanting to take care of her, to wipe that blood off of her skin, to soften the shock and horror in her eyes.
Besides, Domenico might have been a mediocre manager, but he was a great fucking mobster. He would wait until the headlights were gone, then grab a flashlight, head into the woods, find the body, assess what happened, and call in the higher-ups to figure out our next moves.
By the time I made it back, I would not only have squashed the potential of Hazel calling the cops, but someone would have an idea of what we were dealing with.
Hazel had been stony silent the whole drive across town to her building, sitting there with her hands on her thighs, bloody palms up, almost looking like she was in deep meditation. It was shock, of course. And it was going to take a bit for her to wrap her head around everything to, hopefully, compartmentalize it so she could move on.
I led her into the elevator, then down the hall toward her apartment before using the key from her chain to unlock the front door.