Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(8)

“And if the men who did this to her come after her?”

Eagle gave him a grim smile. “As soon as we get that bullet out, I can set up the security system outside.” His gaze narrowed. “Then I’m loading up every weapon in the house, in case I get a chance to empty them into the asshole who did this to her.”

Gray warned, “You can’t take on every ill in the world, you know?”

“No, just those that come to my front door.” Eagle turned and walked out.

*

“Did you find her?”

Dylan stared at his longtime boss and swallowed hard, then shook his head. “No. We tripped his security system,” he said bluntly. “As we bolted, Jordan here fell back and took some kind of a spear in the belly.”

The boss looked down at the man gasping for breath on the floor and nodded. “And yet you weren’t injured?”

“It looks like he runs some kind of raptor center.”

“Raptor?” the boss said, his voice low, sharp with interest. “Anything of importance?”

“I don’t think so. Honestly it was dark, and I couldn’t help but see a thousand eyes staring at us the whole time. It was damn spooky.”

The boss nodded quietly, contemplating the sky over their heads.

“Boss, can we get some help for Jordan here?” Dylan asked, motioning to the man collapsed on the floor, still groaning. “I know he deserved the punishment for letting her escape, but surely he’s suffered enough?”

The boss nodded. “Absolutely.” And, right in front of them, he pulled out a handgun, pointed, and fired, placing a bullet between Jordan’s eyes.

Dylan swallowed again and again. He stared down at the man he’d worked with the last few months. He hadn’t known him well. He’d been a laborer the boss had picked up, but he’d been here the whole time they’d held Issa captive. Dylan had even wondered himself if it was safe to keep Jordan around when this was over and done with. He wasn’t sure the man could keep his mouth shut.

Not to mention the boss had asked Issa a lot of questions. Dumb questions. Dylan had thought they were more stupid curiosity, but still the boss had the power to shock him. The boss got colder every day. With the boss’s breath slowly calming down, Dylan turned to look at him. “Where do you want me to dump him?”

This wasn’t the first time Dylan had disposed of a body. But this was the first time a man was gunned down beside him. Dylan didn’t dare show any nervousness. There was a whole lot of mean in the boss—especially lately. And he appeared to no longer have any boundaries as to what he’d do or wouldn’t do.

“Take him out to the ditch in the back. Bury him deep enough we don’t have to worry about the animals. Make sure the job is done properly.”

Dylan nodded. He glanced at the big man at his feet and sighed. “Maybe you could hire a smaller man next time.” He bent down, grabbed Jordan by the hood, and dragged him out the front door. There wasn’t much for flooring here thankfully. Just dirt, but he still left a blood trail.

A trail he knew he’d have to clean up fast. When he got to the front step, he walked around the building, turned on the tractor with the bucket on the front, hopped on it, and drove around to the front. Reversing the front-end loader so the bucket was down in front of the porch, he got off the seat, dragged the body into the bucket, and, with his chest heaving, straightened up again. Wiping his brow, he walked back around to the driver’s seat, hopped up, and raised the bucket. Then he drove around the side of the cabin and parked. He knew better than to leave that blood trail visible for long. There were too many people around this place.

He went back in with the bucket of dirt that sat outside and spread it on top of the blood. Then grabbed several more bucketfuls. He gave it a couple minutes, then grabbed the heavy rake and smoothed over the area. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but there wasn’t any other way. Blood was blood.

The boss never said a word. He sat beside the fire, his laptop on his legs, and wrote notes. He was a hell of a smart man. Dylan had to admit he was worried that maybe the boss had bit off more than he could chew. His fascination with that damn girl and her birds had cost him a lot. Then he was haunted by so much more.

The two were actually old friends in many ways but not when push came to shove. … Dylan spent his life looking after the boss. Not the other way around. The boss was very clear on that.

When the inside was cleaned up, Dylan hopped back onto the tractor and drove carefully along the trails.

There’d been a lot of rain lately, and the ground was soft. At the back of the property were a couple ditches. He was pretty sure he could find a place to put Jordan and not have anybody ask any questions. When he got to the spot he was thinking of, he hopped off and took a good look. They’d had a spring runoff, and some of the ditches had ended up very deep. He considered one that was well over six feet deep, almost a crevice.

He turned the front-end loader around to get into position, and, when he could, he dumped the body into the place he’d thought would do for a deep-enough grave. Then he maneuvered the bucket to pick up rocks from close by and slowly filled in the area. When he was done, he got off, grabbed some of the deadfall from around the area and dragged it over the top.

Then he backed up the tractor, and, with his boots, he made scuff marks so the area was clear of any tire tracks.