Page 88 of From Hell

Oh, Jesus.

Molten heat slides between my thighs, and I feel the stirrings of a need that won’t go away easily.

“As soon as we get home, I’m going eat every inch of you, little fox. Do you know why?” His voice is low in my ear.

“Please,” I whisper, unsure what I’m begging for.

His answer to that is to open the jacket and bite the mound of my breast. “Because you’re mine.” The way he says it slides through me, making me slick and breathless.

I’m still breathless when Jaxon drags me out of the bathroom toward an unmarked exit. “The tunnel leads to an alley out back. There’s a car ready. I’ll be right behind you.”

I hurry to Jaxon’s car as fast as my heels allow, debating if I should kick them off since the rest of my outfit is on the bathroom floor, but I get to the end of the red-lit tunnel soon enough and push through the exit.

Damp wind blasts me, threatening to blow Jaxon’s jacket right off. I clutch it like a lifeline and look around. A car is there, an unmarked black SUV, waiting like he said it would be. It isn’t Jaxon’s car. It’s one I’ve not seen before, but at least it’s unlocked.

I climb behind the wheel, and once I’m safe behind the tinted windows, I slip Jaxon’s jacket on properly rather than keeping it draped over my shoulders, and button it up.

I’m not good at waiting. And now I’m turned on and impatient, it’s not a good mix. My fingers drum on the dash, my knee bobbing with loaded anxiety as I look around. Ignoring the venomous ache down below as the butter-soft leather molds to my bare butt and the way the fine, silky inner material plays havoc with my nipples.

Where the Hell is he?

What feels like an age later, the door bursts open, and Jaxon and some burly guy with a shock of red hair emerge, supporting a plastic-wrapped body between them. They stuff it in the trunk. Jaxon takes something from the big guy and slaps him on the back before the stranger disappears into the club.

“Move over.” Jaxon appears at the driver’s side window. He’s carrying a cold storage box, which he slips onto the back seat. “I’m driving.”

I shuffle over the center console, folding myself into the passenger seat as gracefully as a girl can in a jacket that skims the tops of her thighs, barely covering anything.

I gaze into his silver eyes when I’m comfortable, seatbelt on, though that’s not what’s pinning me in place. Jaxon looks like he doesn’t want to wait until we get home.

I clear my throat, hoping to distract him. “Who was that man?”

He blinks at me. “Hedge? He’s Vice’s cousin.”

“Vice?” The Vice brother who owes you a favor?”

“Not anymore.” Jaxon puts the key in the ignition. “Now we’re even. He’ll handle clean-up for us on this one.”

The car roars to life and corners like a beast as he maneuvers it through the narrow roads away from the restaurant’s rear entrance. A few streets away, he pulls up and rolls up his shirt sleeves, displaying the masonic-loaded ink I partly remember, partly thought I’d dreamt. Then he exits the car and opens the trunk.

I watch him through the rearview mirror as he dumps Christian’s body in the corner of a dark alley.

He peels the plastic sheeting away, but then I can’t quite make out what he’s doing, so I make a bad decision to get out of the car. I know it’s bad because the cursed wind is on the warpath, frigid with mist, taking my breath away as it coasts up the gap under the jacket.

It really is the coldest and wettest summer on record.

Crossing my arms over my front to keep warm, I come up behind Jaxon. He’s squatting down next to the body, making frenzied slashes; layers of Christian’s clothes have been cut away to reveal pale skin disfigured and obliterated and a bloody hollow carved into what was his chest. Thick, congealed blood oozes from the grotesque display, like a work of demonic art.

Mouth bone dry, stomach twisting in horror, I stand there and stare, unable to look away.

The stench of pennies is overwhelming.

Dragging the knife to stop, Jaxon stills but doesn’t turn around, his torso moving up and down like he’s breathing hard. An icy whisper chills my heart. “Get back in the car, Laine.”

“Jax—”

“I said get back in the car!” It comes out like a growl, making my heart jump.

I walk slowly back to the waiting SUV, my body slick with rain. Annoyingly, I can’t help that I’m shaking. It takes several blasts of the heater to warm me up, my eyes locked on the cold storage box on the back seat.