Page 69 of Boneyard HEA

“Stay strong.” Who is this man I’ve become? I was absolutely sure I would never fall in love, but I was wrong. In this moment, with no one else to mock me for what I used to think was weakness and madness, I know it is true. My hobby was making money and breaking women to my will, and I was such a dick.

I’ve fallen for the girl with the mad lethal shovel.

That would make a good song title.

I smile as I remember the day I set myself on this path when I found out what she’d done.

Then the night calls in all the cards, and I flutter down into the abyss.

24

Juniper

The hardness beneath my shoulder and various aches winch me slowly out of a bleak cold darkness. I’m…where am I?

I’m lying on a concrete floor in a cold room, with a blanket under me, gunk in my eyes, and a pillow by my head. Blinking past the initial fuzziness in my vision, I spy Mr. Loxland snoozing on the other side of this square room. He’s only wearing shorts, and a blanket partially covers his legs.

I sit up, pushing off the floor, feeling a bruise on my head throb and a cuff slide around my wrist. A chain leads from the cuff to a ring anchored to the wall, a yard away. Both hands have cuffs but only my right is chained.

There are no windows, one door, and more metal rings are attached higher on the walls.

Facts trundle in.

We’ve been kidnapped by the men I was searching for…I think?

Tomás betrayed us, maybe so he could stay alive, and fuck me, do I blame him? Who wouldn’t do that? Lying to myself there. I hate what he did. I do blame him. He meant to kill Mr. Loxland.

They gave us a drug by injection and another bruise on my left ass cheek activates and tells me it was there that the needle sank in.

We were on a boat, but this is not a boat. The walls aren’t swaying, or not much. I touch my head bruise. It’s the drug and the head pain. Then my stomach grumbles angrily from lack of food.

Grimacing, I prop my hand on the floor.

Where the fuck are we? How do we get out of here?

And are we going to die?

I’m sure there are other questions but⁠—

Of course, where are the two men from the beach? Shawn also betrayed us, except he was never on our side, and I was the one who convinced everyone he was going to help us, that he was a good man. Guilt is here, waiting to drown me, but I shove it down.

And there was the other one, Zasha Moroscuba. Morosova? The Russian one.

My head throbs even harder.

“Maybe I should stop thinking for a while?” I mutter to myself. I brush the curtain of hair from my face and the chain attached to my wrist cuff rattles.

“Or not. Keep thinking.” Loxland groans and straightens against the wall, locks eyes with me, smiles. “You good?”

“I’m damn good. When do I get a shovel to finish off these dudes?” I say it brightly, attempting to give us courage.

He snorts and buries his face in his hand. His broad smile shows though.

“Got you smiling.”

“You are insane, but I like you.” He drops his hand, swallows, looks terribly glum before he adds, “This might be the last chance I get to say this, and my gut is telling me I’m a fool, but I love your attitude. I love how you use a shovel.” His smile reappears, wavers. “And I think I might be close to falling in love with you?”

That’s the most stupidly indecisive statement ever, and I’m yoyoing between thinking he’s being silly to cheer me up, and the opposite.