Page 4 of Sinners Reunion

I can also make out my captor’s silhouette as he strolls past my seated form. I wiggle my wrists and try to free the ropes strapping my arms behind the chair back. It’s no use. They’re snug, and I’m still groggy from whatever they injected me with last night.

Whoever they are.

Look, the details are fucking foggy at best. I’m still piecing shit together. Work with me, brain.

I tip my head and shake it back and forth until the pillowcase comes free.

The man doesn’t notice. He steps into the doorway and stands there as a breeze rushes over his wrinkled skin. A slender cigarette perches between his fingers, though he doesn’t bring it to his thin lips. He just holds it. A spindly ribbon of smoke curls around his head and dances in his grey curls. His pale buttocks clench as he turns when he hears me rustling around.

I have to tear my eyes away from a very swollen nutsack as he faces me fully.

“You might want to see a doctor about that,” I say with a raspy voice as I nod toward his crotch.

“What is everyone’s concern with my anatomy?” His thick German accent comes as a shock. I travel all over the country, and German is all but common. Still, there’s a familiarity that gives me the feeling of déjà vu.

I can’t dwell on that right now, though, so I get straight to the point. “What the fuck is going on, where am I, and who the fuck are you? In that order, preferably.”

“You are quite the noisy little crab. I expected the lamentations of a terrified girl.” He shakes his head with a scoff and returns his gaze to the world beyond this place. “Please remain seated in your chair until you are told to do otherwise. No more speaking. Danke.”

I lick my lips, and my blood chills. “You aren’t going to . . . do things to me, are you?”

“Disgusting. Please do not speak to either of us any longer.”

I’m about to ask who this us is, but a naked woman appears with two steaming cups in her hands. She joins the man in the doorway and passes a cup to him. A gnarly scar runs across her throat, and there’s something familiar about that too.

They raise the cups, sipping the steaming liquid as if it’s completely normal to have a tied-up redhead behind you as you admire the sunrise. In the nude.

By a . . . lake? Is that the shimmer of distant water just beyond this woman’s drooping left nipple?

“It that Lake Bomoseen?” The brain fog lifts enough to remind me where I am. “Wait, no. We’re in Florida, not Vermont. That little dock down there looks⁠—”

“Stop talking.”

“It’s just that⁠—”

“Silence!”

He finally spins to face me again, and I regret pushing him. Because my god, those testicles should be in a book of records or something. It’s like I’m wearing 3-D goggles as they come toward my face.

“Bring the syringe, Liebchen,” the German says to his friend. He speaks much softer to her. “This little crab will not stop clicking its claws.”

The woman nods at him and shuffles away with a cute little smirk. How dare she.

“Okay, first, rude. I’m not a fucking crab. Second, I don’t—” My voice cuts off as something pricks my arm. “Ouch! Fucking warn a bitch, why don’t you?”

The woman smiles and strokes my hair before joining Lord Nutsack by the door again.

Well, great. Now I’m tied to a chair and about ten minutes away from another very long nap.

I kick toward the German, as it’s my only form of recourse and I’m fucking pissed. He takes a step back to dodge the blow with a scoff. His massive purplish balls ricochet against his thighs.

“Come, my sweet one. Let us away while our guest slumbers.” He wraps his arm around the woman and exits the house.

At least, I think it’s a house. It could be a condo for all I know, but wherever I am, it’s time to leave. This isn’t my first rodeo, and I’ll be damned if it’s my fucking last. I’ll slit all of their throats the moment I’m loose, and then I’ll shit in the neck stumps for posterity. Because fuck them for kidnapping and drugging me. They have no clue who they’re fucking with.

I remain in the chair as the naked duo meanders toward the water. He left the door open, so he isn’t afraid I’ll scream for help. Or run for it. When I tie someone to a chair, I’m usually a little more careful. Something makes him certain I won’t be an issue, though, and I don’t think it’s merely whatever they injected into my arm.

My wrists wriggle until they burn, and I’m no closer to freeing myself. I’m also running out of time. The medication will make itself known soon enough.