said, giving my waist a gentle squeeze before standing up. "Steele and I can handle the body if you want to stay with MK?" he asked Archer.
I shook my head, though. "No, I need to come with you. I need to see this right through to the end."
All three of them gave me worried frowns, but I shrugged off their concern. "Just give me five minutes to put jeans on."
"Hellcat, you don't have to—" Steele started to protest, but I cut him off with a sharp gesture as I stood up from my step.
"I do," I insisted, firm. "We're a team, right? The four of us? We're in this together, no matter what?" He nodded, and I flickered my gaze over the other two for their affirmations. "Then yes, I need to come with you."
I left it at that, hurrying up the stairs to my bedroom to get changed into more disposing-of-a-body appropriate attire. What the fuck that looked like, I had no idea. I just went clichéd and put on black skinny jeans, flat boots, and a black hoodie that I'd stolen from one of the guys. Boys’ hoodies were so damn comfy.
My knife went into the pocket of my jeans. Now that it'd saved my life three times over, I wasn't ever leaving the house without it again.
When I made my way back downstairs, I found the boys had changed too, throwing T-shirts, hoodies, and jeans on, seeing as they'd all been in just gym shorts before. The rolled-up carpet was nowhere to be seen, and the plastic-wrapped body was gone too.
To the unsuspecting eye, there were absolutely no signs that a man had died in the foyer less than an hour ago.
Steinwick totally knew, though. He was standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips and a deep frown across his wrinkled face as he glared down at the tiles.
"Miss Danvers," he greeted me, looking up as I reached the bottom step. "I hope you're feeling better today."
I lifted my brow, then I remembered the bruised-up, giggling mess I'd come home as yesterday and jerked a short nod.
He gave me a tight smile. "Good. I'll ensure this mess is cleaned up before you get back, sir," he said to Archer, waving a hand at the spotless floor, which was missing its rug.
Kody snickered and rolled his eyes, but Steele scowled like Steinwick had deliberately insulted his cleaning skills.
Archer just headed through to the garage, and we followed behind him. He passed all the fancy sports cars and expensive SUVs, then popped the driver’s door open on a midrange silver sedan. Oh yeah, this was their “transporting dead people” car for sure.
"Let's go," he said, clicking the garage door open and sliding behind the wheel. Kody and Steele jumped into the backseat, leaving the passenger seat open for me. It took me a couple of seconds to force myself inside, though.
Gritting my teeth against my welling anxiety, I pulled the door closed but flinched at the sound of my seat belt buckling. Yeah, the crash with Bree hadn't done wonders for my car anxiety, that was for sure.
"Are you okay?" Archer murmured quietly as we drove out of the garage and down the main driveway.
I jerked a sharp nod, my fingers gripping the strap of my seatbelt in a white-knuckled grip. Mainly because I was badly fighting the urge to cry from pure stress and fear. Also because I couldn't handle the sensation of the diagonal belt across my tender bruising.
"I'm fine," I croaked, feeling cold sweat beading on my chest.
Archer raised a brow at me, clearly not buying my shit, but he didn't call me on the lie. He just reached out, his hand finding its favorite place on the inside of my knee as he drove. Somehow, that worked. A small amount of my fear eased with every moment his heavy, warm hand rested on my leg. It was grounding me, reminding me that I was in good hands.
We drove for a little over an hour in near silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts and no one even turning the stereo on. Eventually, though, Archer turned off the rural road we'd been following for miles and onto a dirt driveway.
"Where are we?" I asked, trying to peer at a sign as we passed it. It was dark outside, though, and we were going too fast for me to make out the details.
"Benny's Pig Farm," Steele answered, drumming his fingers on the door handle