Page 90 of Sinners Reunion

“What the fuck, dude?” I scream.

I expect him to turn away or panic or seem just as shocked as I am that he’s standing in the wrong RV, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t raise his deceptive mask into place, either. He doesn’t smile and put on a show. He’s back to looking like a weasel, and it sets my teeth on edge.

“What do you need?” I manage to get out. My voice shakes, that bitch, but I’m scared. All the others are likely miles away by now. I’m pretty sure I was thinking and rubbing my cunt for more than ten minutes.

But why would King leave me alone with Blayne?

He wouldn’t.

“King!” I yell, sitting up a little straighter.

I’ll be damned if Blayne doesn’t take a step toward me, as if he means to come silence me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t piss a little. I’m about to scream for King again when footsteps pound on the dry Arizona ground outside.

King wheels into the RV, head drenched in sweat and glittering just as much as his coveralls. He doesn’t ask any questions as he notices the intruder standing between us. He barrels forward, grabs the center of Blayne’s flannel shirt, and hauls him several inches into the air.

“Speak quickly,” he says through gritted teeth, his voice a pit of gravel and honey. “You have about three seconds to make sense of this situation before I send you into the Cattle pen to join the races tomorrow.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Blayne squeaks. “Jim sent me to tell everyone to take off those coveralls. We’ve had to postpone the event because Ice Pick collapsed.”

King looks at me, questioning if he speaks the truth, but how the fuck should I know? I was busy playing with myself when he barged in.

But when I think of the way he stepped toward me . . . that look in his eyes.

Unable to answer him, I just look away. I don’t know what to say.

“There’s one way to get to the bottom of this,” King says. He drops Blayne to the floor none too gently, then spins him around and places his hand on the back of his neck. “March. We’ll go talk to Jim.”

I throw on some sandals and run after them. When we get to Jim’s bus, we see that he was telling the truth. Ice Pick lies on Jim’s bed with fans pointed at his naked body. The three-inches thing might not be a lie if he’s a grower instead of a shower. Poor guy. I’ve been with micro machines who’ve still gotten me where I needed to go, though.

“What’s all this?” Jim asks. He pushes Blayne out of King’s grasp and starts trying to strip his friend. “Why are you still wearing those dangerous coveralls? Take them off! My god, if something happens to my⁠—”

King pushes him away. “What is your blasted issue, old man? Unhand me! I can undress myself, thank you!”

Jim’s lips slam shut, and he looks away. “Apologies. I’m just worried about all of you. I sent Gary and Blayne to tell everyone as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, that’s what caused all this fuss.” King glares at Blayne. “Perhaps you shouldn’t just barge into someone’s residence, hmm? I’m not sure what they do in your part of the world, but where I’m from, we ring the bell and wait, politely, for someone to answer.”

Blayne raises his hands, a sheepish grin planted on his face. It’s fake, though. I can see through it all now. “I’m sorry, and you’re right. I was just terrified something might have happened to you two. Especially after I shot Josie. I wanted to make up for it.”

I study King’s face, and I’m relieved when I see that he isn’t buying it. The tight muscles in my neck finally relax.

“I’m not mad at you for panicking like you did,” Blayne says to me, as if I give a shit if he’s mad at me. “I would have done the same if some woman busted in while I was trying to . . . Well, I don’t want to assume what you were doing, but you looked so flushed, and⁠—”

“That’s quite enough of that,” King mutters.

I turn to Jim before this can go much further. “So, how’s Ice Pick?”

“Rosie says he’ll be just fine, but we need to hydrate him and keep him cool until tomorrow. That means we’ll have to push the first part of the event until tomorrow morning.”

More footsteps pound outside, and several people enter Jim’s bedroom. It’s a regular can of sardines now as Eve, Cat, and Ezra pile in.

“How is he?” Cat whispers, tears in her eyes. “Please tell me they don’t suspect brain damage. He has so few of those cells knocking around in there already.”

Eve side-eyes her. “Does it look like they have an MRI scanner on this bus, honey? Are you sure you’re doing well in nursing school?”

“I’m sorry,” Cat squeaks. “My critical thinking shuts off under pressure.”

“Are you sure you’ll do well as a nurse,” King whispers, and thank goodness the poor girl doesn’t hear him. I give him a gentle elbow in the ribs.