Page 145 of Sinners Reunion

We come around a small bend that feeds into a special cove I designed for lake trout to spawn—the perfect place to turn the fuck around.

Aven and Bennett could hear the panic in Jim’s voice too. We don’t need the rest of his sentence. We understand the gravity of this situation. They’re already getting us turned around, with Bennett giving Aven directions as he puts all his efforts into rowing.

We’ve only been gone an hour, maybe two at most. Surely that wasn’t enough time for something to go so horribly wrong. Jim’s just overreacting.

Static squelches again.

“ . . . sedan isn’t where⁠—”

It’s a snippet of a sentence, but it’s enough.

“He took the bloody car,” I growl. “And if he took the car, that means he was at the house.”

Digging deep, Aven rows harder. We break out of the narrow inlet and through the cover of pine trees. It almost feels as if we slow when we skirt the edge of an open expanse, but it’s just a trick of the mind. Like that floating dock in the distance with⁠—

“Josie!” I yell.

Forgetting where we are, I stand up and point, only to send the boat rocking back and forth. I remain upright because my muscles have never been stronger, since Josie keeps them so tense all the time. Like right now.

Aven and Bennett shield their eyes and look into the distance. They see it too; the figures are too far away to make out, but the auburn hair is unmistakable.

Blayne, Josie, and Ice Pick are on a floating dock in open water, and Blayne knows Josie cannot swim.

My eyes slide closed.

Oh, my beauty.

Aven slows his rowing, not wanting to spook the bastard.

I reach back and pat his leg. “Good lad.”

I needn’t say more. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s doing a damn good job. We want to approach low and slow. If he feels the least threatened, he’ll dump her into the water.

“What the fuck is Ice Pick doing?” Bennett says. “There’s no way he’s in on this, right?”

My head shakes in disbelief. He’s been loyal to his friend all this time, but to this extent?

“No,” I say. “Blayne was his friend, but we’re his family. He wouldn’t betray us, and we won’t betray him by believing less of him. He’s never given us reason to mistrust him. We won’t start now. He might be in as much danger as Josie. Until we know better, we’ll treat it as such.”

“Aye,” Aven says, and Bennett nods.

We continue in silence for what feels like an eternity. We finally draw close enough for Blayne to raise a bullhorn and demand we stop.

Aven is winded, huffing and puffing after working himself into a lather. I have the boys swap places. If Blayne pushes her into the water, I can swim to her faster than either of them can row all three of us there. I need to be ready to dive in should it come to that.

But it doesn’t. Blayne raises the bullhorn and speaks. He’s still far away, though, so he’s hard to make out.

“What did he say?” Aven asks.

Bennett shrugs. “Something about s’mores?”

I turn toward Blayne. “We can’t bloody hear you, you crispy-topped bellend!”

Blayne fiddles with the buttons, then raises the bullhorn again. Feedback squeals, and he lowers it once more.

I scrub my hands down my face. “Bennett, row us closer.”

“On it.” He puts the boat in motion again.