“What in the ever-loving f**k are you talking about?” Lyle stared at the man as though he’d grown two heads. What did this guy know and how the f**k did he know it? And how had Lyle ever thought he smelled good? A reek of mold and body odor radiated off him like the man had been rolling in a swamp for the better part of a lifetime. His hair was matted against the back of his head and his fingernails were so full of filth that it looked like he’d been given a French manicure with s**t. “I wouldn’t have saved you if I had something to do with you being there. That’s obvious. It’s more than obvious, it’s the only thing that makes any sense—”
“Look.” The man dropped his hands and eyed Lyle. Though his gaze was steady, his body was not. He swayed with the wind, just another leaf on a branch, a
