Free Grave Secrets by Linda Trout

cross legged in the dirt, holding his head. She almost felt sorry for him. But not quite. He’d brought it on himself. And now that she thought about it, the man was lucky he’d fallen into the grave. From the expression on Morgan’s face when he’d arrived, he would have done more to the drunk than dump him in a hole. So, in a way, she’d done him a favor.
    Without a word, Morgan punched a number into his cell phone. “Yeah, Reece. Send a unit out to the cemetery. Mrs. Adams has just been assaulted.”
    She didn’t want the drunk arrested. He probably just needed to sleep it off, so there was no need for the police.
    He looked her over critically before turning his attention back to the phone. “She’ll be all right. I’ll make sure she comes in to fill out the paperwork.”
    “No,” she protested. Morgan ignored her. What was it with men? Was he deaf? “I don’t want you to—”
    His scowl cut her off. “Yes, you will.”
    Temper flaring; using some of the moves Cat had shown her seemed like to really good idea. Only this time, on Morgan. How dare he tell her what she would or wouldn’t do?
    “No, not you, Reece,” he said into the phone. “I was talking to Mrs. Adams. Oh, and they’ll need to bring a ladder—the man’s in Adams’ open grave. Nope, it wasn’t me. She’s the one who put him there. Didn’t know a purse could be considered a lethal weapon. Until today.” He grinned again as he carried on the conversation without taking his eyes off her.
    Sara started to fist her hands on her hips to get her point across, but the bruises on her arms protested. Loudly. Before she turned to go, she leaned over the edge of the grave and cleared her throat. When the man glanced up, looking as if he might pass out at any minute, she shook her finger at him.
    “Let that be a lesson to you. Never accost another woman. Do you hear me?” When he nodded his assent, she started to step back.
    “Lady? Can I have my bottle?” the man pleaded.
    She couldn’t believe it. “No!”
    “Well, damn.” His head lolled to one side, then he passed out, landing with a soft plop in the dirt.
    Serves him right . With chin held high, she marched down the slope toward her car.
    After a couple heartbeats, Morgan caught up with her, matching his steps to hers. “Um, Mrs. Adams—Sara—you might want to brush yourself off.”
    His comment took her by surprise, and she turned to face him. “What do you mean?”
    He widened his eyes as he craned his head to look at her backside. She twisted around to find herself covered in dirt.
    “Oh.” Dust flew as she swiped at her pants.
    “Much better,” he said as he checked the results of her efforts.
    Heat crept up her cheeks. The man took perverse pleasure in making her uncomfortable. “So glad it meets with your approval.”
    “What are you doing out here? There normally isn’t staff on site all the time, and any number of things can happen. It’s also a favorite hangout for some of the local winos.” Even though he attempted to sound business-like—professional—there was still a bit of humor left in his voice.
    “Until the last twenty-four hours, I’ve never had a problem coming to my husband’s gravesite. Now I’m being assaulted in more ways than one.” She stopped to look at him, trying her best to ignore his dark, mysterious eyes.
    “Except he’s not there.”
    “And why isn’t he, Mr. Daniels? What’s the reason for exhuming his body and disturbing his final resting place?”
    He didn’t reply. Instead, he turned into one of those stone pillars again, expressionless. She hated that about him. Granted he’d come to her rescue—twice now—and she’d seen a more human side of him when he had. A side she wouldn’t mind getting to know a bit better. But when it came to discussing her husband, Morgan turned as cold as a slab of marble.
    He ignored her question, his voice all business now. “You shouldn’t be out here alone and certainly not today.