Page 18 of Bone’s Choice

We didn’t use every coffin for transport. Hell, most of the caskets leaving the shop were exactly what they appeared to be. Somebody ordered one. We built it. It got shipped. Eventually somebody dead went inside.

Simple.

The ones with extras were different. Those were built specifically for runs.

Guns went into the false bottom, the compartment was sealed, and the interior fit over it. Unless somebody knew exactly what they were looking for, they’d never know the difference.

That was the way the Grave Prowlers had been doing business for decades, and it fucking worked.

Munch reached for the panel.

“Hold up.”

He stopped.

I leaned over and checked the weapons one more time.

Everything was secured. Nothing shifted. Nothing was touching anything it shouldn’t. “Now.”

Munch lowered the hidden panel into place.

I pressed down on one corner until it locked, then worked my way around it. Once the interior went over the top, there’d be nothing to see. “That’s how you do it.”

“Got it, Prez.”

“You said that before.”

He grinned. “Really got it this time.”

“Better.”

“Truck!” Bull shouted from across the warehouse. “Box truck’s rolling in!”

I straightened. The Grave Casket warehouse was built for exactly this kind of work.

Big. Private. And nowhere near prying eyes.

There were oversized garage doors on opposite ends of the building, high and wide enough that semis and box trucks could drive straight through. A truck entered on one side, got loaded or unloaded inside, then pulled out through the other.

Nobody had to back in.

Nobody had to turn around.

More importantly, nobody driving down the road could see what the fuck we were doing.

There wasn’t much traffic this far down anyway, but we’d been in business too long to rely on nobody happening by at the wrong time. The Grave Prowlers didn’t survive by being careless.

A diesel engine rumbled outside before the box truck slowly rolled through the open door.

Taco stepped into the aisle and started waving it forward. “Come on. Come on. Keep coming.” The truck crawled toward us. “Little more.”

The driver leaned out his window. “I know how to fucking drive, Taco.”

Taco grinned. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Keep coming.”