Page 64 of Sinners Reunion

“Yes, like that,” I say, and she stands upright and scowls at me, realizing my game. She goes back to searching again, facing her perfect ass away from me this time.

Across the water, movement drags my attention away from Josie. The men make their pilgrimage to the holy knoll, but as they near the top, Ice Pick slips in what I can only assume is a fresh mound of horse droppings.

Down he goes, ass over teakettle. He ragdolls a few more times before rolling as his body shape requires. He lands on his ass a few feet from the opposite end of the pond.

He pats his head and looks down at his gut before giving me a thumbs up. “I’m okay!”

I sigh and return the gesture.

“He’s lucky to be alive,” Josie says as she chooses a smooth stone. “He could have broken his neck at least five times just now.”

“Yes, well, he’d need a neck for that, now, wouldn’t he?”

“God, what is wrong with you? You’re so mean. Are you sure you didn’t sleep with his girl?”

“We’ve established I didn’t, and if you ask again, I’ll be forced to punish you.”

She laughs in my face. “Oh no, what will you do? Tie me up and eat my pussy until I come again? Please don’t do that!”

My hand shoots out, and I grip that loose ponytail hanging from her head. With a growl, I snatch it backward, exposing her throat to me. “Worse, my beauty. I’ll deny you any pleasure at all.”

She finally starts to fight against me as I bend close to her lips. As she pushes me away, I can only smile down at her. What did the kids say back in the day? Payback’s a bitch?

Yeah. That.

“You wouldn’t dare try to kiss me.” Her eyes narrow as I release her hair. “The girls told me what you did in the arena last night. Sounds like someone was willing to sacrifice their life for someone else. Pretty sure that’s love, King.”

“Bollocks. Wasn’t a real gun.”

She shrugs and adjusts her ponytail. “You didn’t know that, yet you still stepped into the danger zone.”

“Hate to disappoint you, Ice Man, but you and your chums have it all wrong. I didn’t⁠—”

“If I can’t have her, nobody can.”

Our heads jerk toward the sound of a voice. Blayne stands a few feet away, gun drawn. But I’m not afraid. I’ve seen a more convincing tough-guy act from a five-year-old in a standoff with his mum at the sweets counter. If I were a betting man—and I am—I’d wager it all that this is staged.

In fact, I’m willing to wager Josie’s life.

I take a step to the side before Blayne can pull the trigger. Gunfire pierces the air a split second later, and Josie jerks back with a scream. Then she lets out another scream, this one much more frantic.

“You piece of shit, you let him shoot me!” She starts panting, but I don’t turn around. She isn’t fooling me. “Oh, I feel . . . lightheaded.”

“Shit,” Blayne says. He drops the gun and runs his hands through his curly hair, but his fingers tangle instantly. “They said it was a prop gun!”

For a serial killer, he sure does look pale in the face at the thought of shooting someone. But again, this must be part of the act. I must admit, it’s far more convincing than his opening line.

Unfortunately, as I turn, I realize too late that she wasn’t kidding and he’s no longer acting. The bullet only grazed the meaty part of her shoulder, but it’s deep enough that it needs tending.

Damn, it’s a lucky thing I moved. If I hadn’t, that would have been right in line with . . .

My heart.

I push the thought away as I scoop Josie into my arms. Blayne keeps repeating how the bullets were supposed to be blanks, how the gun wasn’t supposed to fire an actual round. Even if he’s telling the truth, it doesn’t matter right now. We need to stop this bleeding.

“Go find Grim and Rose and tell them to hoof it to my RV,” I say to him.

He scrambles to his feet and takes off toward the farmhouse.