The High School Reunion From Hell - Saranna DeWylde Page 0,1

a star running back on the football team since middle school. Me? I’d been on the fringes until the Great Reveal—nerdy girl by day, vampire slayer by night.

And I’d always been in love with Marcus Majors. Just look at his name. Marcus Majors. All-American, apple pie, picket fence, golden boy who’d grown up to be that kind of man. An Army Ranger who’d served his country with honors, and in his retirement, well….

Well, now, he was a Department of Defense Secret Squirrel contractor who killed people, but they were all bad.

Like this shithead in my trunk.

“Serious question,” I asked him.

“Serious answer,” he replied with a grin.

“Do you think your cover was blown?”

“I don’t know, but I also don’t know who’s watching. So I need to get this guy out of here and as far away from me as possible.” He leaned his head down so our foreheads touched. “I can’t stop thinking about Ryder. What if she’d been home?”

I braced his face in my palms. “Hey, you know better than that. She wasn’t home. She’s at Jasmine’s. We can’t think about what might have happened. Only what did. She’s safe. Threat neutralized. Yeah?”

I’d have to ask my best friend, Lila Jean, later if I was a piece of shit for being glad he still needed me. That he still depended on me. Actually, I didn’t need to ask her. I already knew the answer to that. It was selfish and ultra shitty. Even if I hadn’t wished bad things on him for leaving me, taking any kind of pleasure in his pain was not the person I wanted to be.

“You’re right. So we should take the body somewhere out in the county. The coyotes and the wildcats will take care of it.”

“I’ll take care of it.” I knew exactly where to get rid of it. I’d done it before.

“It’s my mess. I can’t ask you to clean it up by yourself.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Plus, this just looks like your ex came over for some midnight booty. If you leave with me, that might raise more questions. It’s not like this is my first body disposal.”

“Obviously. But I don’t want to put this all on you.” He dropped his hands to his sides and turned away from me. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Oh yes, you should have. You don’t want to be married to me anymore, that’s fine.” I blew hair out of my face and glanced away. “Well, it’s not fine, but it is what it is. That doesn’t mean that I’m not still here to support you.” I swallowed hard. “Or that I don’t still love you.”

“I can’t have this conversation again,” he whispered.

“I know. I’m not asking you to.” I straightened myself and squared my shoulders. “What I am asking you to do is not shut me out. I don’t deserve that.”

He laughed softly. “Only you, Margie, would think that not asking you to help me bury a body was an insult.”

I put one hand on my hip and poked my right forefinger into the middle of his broad chest. “It is. I’m a professional. And don’t think for one moment if I needed you that I wouldn’t call you to help me do the same.”

“You say you would, but I know you wouldn’t. You don’t need anyone.”

His words sliced home and I didn’t like it. “You could make the payment on the house this month. That would help me.”

“I thought we agreed we were going to sell it? You can get a great place with what’s left.”

“The market is shit. No one wants to live next to the nosy Cornhole Queen.” What are you gonna do? I mean, I guess I could move in with you here…” Yeah, no, I know what you’re thinking. Cornhole Queen? That’s filthy. But it’s actually a game. I’ve lived in the Midwest my whole goddamn life and didn’t know that it was a game with bean bags until Presley pranced into our eighth grade English, wearing her crown and proudly proclaimed herself Queen of Cornhole.

He rolled his eyes skyward. “Fine. But you really need to play nice with Presley. If only so she’ll pretend to be nice to potential buyers.”

“Or, I could make her life so miserable she’ll buy the house just to get me to leave.” I teased.

“Haven’t you tried that?”

“I haven’t really, no.” I pursed my lips. “I could be much more awful if I put my mind to it.”

“Marge.” His tone declared him irritated, but not