Page 32 of Sinners Reunion

“I don’t need a shower, but I’m dying to hear about your night. You look like hell.” I stand from the bed and go to the closet to dress. “Wait, scratch that. Your outward appearance looks like hell, but you seem almost . . . happier.”

King joins me at the closet and begins digging through his things. “Nothing to tell. It’s exactly as I said last night. I needed to blow off steam, so I did, and now I feel much better.”

As he rips off his dress shirt, I notice claw marks on his muscled back. My brain immediately goes to a time I put those same marks on him. Yeah, looks like he was blowing off some steam, all right. He blew it right into someone else.

I don’t want to feel angry or jealous, but damn it, I do. Emotions aren’t an active choice for me, despite what the psychologists tried to teach me. No amount of cognitive therapy could retrain the broken machine that is my brain. The emotions crawl through me and make me feel ways I don’t want to feel.

How can I choose to be happy when images of King sticking his dick in someone else keep playing through my head?

He shoves a few toiletries into a gym bag and straightens. “Are you coming?”

“No, but give me ten minutes and let’s see what happens,” I say as I push past him.

“I only need five, remember?”

“I didn’t mean you.” I smirk at him over my shoulder and exit the RV. As luck would have it, the perfect petty jab walks right into view, accompanied by Ezra and Bennett. “Morning, Blayne! Just the man I was looking for.”

King scoffs and steps around me, heading for the showers.

Blayne’s head whips toward me as I wiggle my fingers. He comes to a halt, and Ezra and Bennett stop with him. All three men look serious as the grave.

I look back at King to see if he’s noticed, but he spares them little more than a glance before continuing on.

Meanwhile, he had it right when he called me Nosey Parker, which is British slang for someone who puts their nose in everyone’s business. I just call it caring.

“Is something amiss?” I say as I step closer to the trio. “You three look like you just found out what happened to Harambe.”

Bennett points to the other end of the RV semi-circle. He grimaces, then says, “Lice Pick locked Blayne out of the RV. He won’t let anyone inside, and we’re worried about him.”

“I told him to stop after two beers, but the guy doesn’t know his limits,” Blayne says. “When he came in this morning, he had a nasty hangover. He looked like shit when he went straight to his cabin in the back of our rig. I figured he’d cuddle with his girl a little and maybe skip the event, but when I came back from the showers, the door was locked and he was crying.”

“What about Charity?” I ask. “Is he holding her hostage?”

Blayne shrugs. “No clue. She isn’t hollering or anything, so I’m not that worried about her. Fuck her, honestly. She’s probably the reason he’s so upset, the little hussy. I caught her trying to make eyes at that British grump-ass last night.” He looks at Ezra. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Ezra says.

Cat, Eve, and the elderly couple who drugged me wander over. Concern only grows as the newcomers learn of Lice Pick’s current state. I listen as they discuss how to handle things.

Meanwhile, my brain is back on that bit about Charity flirting with King. I hate to make an ass out of you and me, but too many puzzle pieces slide into place, and I don’t like what I see. The passion scratches on his back; staying out all night; his vastly improved mood—they all point to one thing.

King got laid last night, and Charity was the recipient of those blown frustrations.

That cunt. I don’t even know who she is, and I want to claw her eyes out already. And for more reasons than this stupid jealousy I have no reason to feel. Cheaters fucking suck.

More Sinners join the discussion, and by the time King finishes with his shower and returns to the group, it’s a regular party. We’re only missing Jim and the two people suspected to be holed up in the RV at the other end of the lot. We’re ready to break down doors and get to the bottom of things, but King isn’t so sure.

“Perhaps he’s feeling under the weather,” he says, and I hate how good he looks right out of the shower. Couple that with the fresh suit and tie, and I’m almost ready to forgive him. “Maybe he and his woman are having a bit of a spat. Regardless, when he’s ready to talk about it, he will. Until then, we have an event to attend.”

I smirk to myself. I just bet he’d love to shove this under the rug. And because he looks so delicious, I’m almost ready to let him. After all, we aren’t anything serious and he’s free to fuck whomever he pleases.

But almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, and it doesn’t matter if makes sense or not. I’m pissed.

“Why don’t we go talk to him, just to be safe?” I say, more than happy to go against the asshole. “We don’t have to go so far as breaking down doors, but we should at least check on the poor guy. I mean, a bald guy with a name like Lice Pick has enough going against him.”

“No time, no time,” Jim says as he approaches the group. Bodies part to allow him into the center. “I’ve heard enough, and I’m here to put an end to the discussion. We’re going to the event, and that’s final.”

“Jim, I’m not comfortable playing a game until I know he’s okay,” Blayne says, and I nod to show my solidarity.