Heavy iron gates closed it off from the public after dark, and towering oaks had been planted in rows some hundred years earlier. Gnarled roots made the ground uneven, cracking the drive that snaked between the rows of headstones.
They worked by flashes of lightning and the sliver of moon that peeked around thunderheads. Everything was cast in shades of gray-from the pale marble of the headstones to the silver shimmer of water droplets as they collected on leaves and rained down on them. Black trunks speared menacingly from the ground-the branches creeping over them like bony arms.
The clank of metal on something solid made Deacon stop and look up at his brother in arms.
"I've got something," Axel said, letting his native Australian accent slip through. He pounded the tip of his shovel a couple of times against the top of the coffin.
Deacon nodded. "Let's get him uncovered. He's been here two days already. He doesn't have much longer. Grab the chains," he instructed Colin.
Deacon returned to the task at hand, doubling his efforts to clear the mud and water rapidly filling the hole. It was fortunate the casket was waterproof and had a rubberized seal around the lid. The rain had come steady for more than twenty-four hours, and changed their original timeline of removing Levi Wolffe from the ground the night before.
A man's life was at stake, and Wolffe had already been through more than most. It was going to be traumatic enough for him to wake up in a different country, surrounded by faces he'd never seen before, and unsure whether he'd been captured by the enemy. Fishing through the lies to get to the truth would take time.
Deacon knew exactly how Levi Wolffe was going to feel.
"Fuck me, this is a never-ending battle," Axel complained. "There's no way we're digging this thing all the way out of the muck."
"All we've got to do is uncover the handles on the sides," Deacon said. "We'll let the Bobcat do the rest."
"Got it, mate." Axel tossed his shovel out of the hole. "Give me a boost, will you?"
Deacon steepled his fingers together to make a sling and braced himself against the casket so he wouldn't slip. They were close to four feet down into the hole, but with the rain and mud, getting out wasn't going to be easy. Axel put his hand on Deacon's shoulder and his foot in the sling, and then grabbed for Dante's hand as he was boosted up.
The casket was an upper-end model-they had to be, for what they were used for-made of glossy oak and brass. Colin tossed Axel the chains, and he looped them through the handles on each side, using a carabiner to hold them together.
"Elias is ready to roll with the Bobcat," Axel called out, extending his arm to help Deacon out of the hole.
Deacon was two hundred and thirty pounds of solid muscle and a couple of inches over six feet. His boots and knees couldn't find purchase in the mud, and his grasp of Axel's hand was slipping. He finally grasped Axel's arm with both hands, hoisted his feet onto the coffin, and used his legs to push off, launching himself out of the grave.
Axel moved out of the way at the last second, and Deacon flew right into the pile of mud they'd dug up. He heard the snickers from Dante and Colin and took a fistful of mud in each hand as he got to his feet, launching it at them in quick succession. Elias's howls of laughter could be heard from inside the Bobcat.
"They'll both be out for vengeance now," Axel said, lips twitching in as close to a smile as he ever gave.
"I hope so," Deacon said. "I'd hate for things to get boring around the office."
The rain was coming down hard enough to rinse some of the mud from his torso, and he lifted his face to the sky to wash it from his cheeks. The thong tying his hair back had come loose and dark strands clung to his face. Thoughts of a hot shower and a beer were becoming a priority. Right after getting Levi Wolffe out of the ground.
"It was my understanding that Winter wasn't bringing any more of us in," Dante said as they hooked up the chains to the Bobcat and moved back out of the way. His accent was English, but he had the Italian genetics of his namesake. Dante was as refined and suave as any man Deacon had ever known. His clothes were always tailored, his haircuts expensive, and his knowledge of the finer things in life unparalleled. Standing in the pouring rain, covered in mud, was probably grating on him immensely.
"That's what she said, but who the hell knows what her plans are." Deacon had been wondering the same thing. "She only tells us what she thinks we need to know."
"Which isn't a bloody thing," Dante said.