Page 29 of Sinners Reunion

Jim and Gary sit together on a log opposite Ice Pick. They give me a wave, and I wander closer. As I draw nearer, I recognize Ezra and Grim. Their backs face me, but I know those silhouettes. Rosie sits on the ground between Grim’s legs, her curly hair poking above his lap like a massive gray bush.

I step beside Ice Pick and study the RVs in the distance. “Where are the crew quarters?” I ask Jim.

We planned a lot of this trip together, but he handled the staff and Cattle accommodations.

Jim looks at Gary, who sits up a little straighter and says, “We have special arrangements with decommissioned prisons along the way. Little pockets of Cattle for us to use for events. Our crew members stay with the security team we’ve hired. They live in the guard areas. The Cattle stay in isolated holding cells as prisoners.”

“Very good, Gary!” Jim says with a clap of his hands. “We’re working on his confidence building. With a little time, we’ll make a Sinner of him yet.”

“I still feel guilty about riding with you guys. I haven’t earned my place,” Gary says.

“Puh, stop that talk.” I point across the fire at him. “You’ve killed. It doesn’t matter how many you’ve bagged. It’s something that you’ve gotten your dick wet at all.”

“But stick with King, and he’ll make sure you bag plenty more,” a female voice—her damn voice—calls from the other side of the hill. “Wanna talk about getting your dick wet? They’ll call your dick a fucking water park once he’s taught you his ways.”

Girlish laughter follows her voice, which continues away from the fire. The other ladies must be walking her to the RV, meaning I still have time to cool off away from her. I’m God’s favorite after all.

“We weren’t talking about sexual conquests, Nosey Parker!” I shout toward the fading sound of footsteps.

Jim clears his throat. “So, I take it things between you and your roommate are not going as well as her screaming orgasm led me to believe?”

“How observant you are,” Grim says under his breath.

Rosie smiles at him and rests her forearms and chin on his bony thighs. He’s wearing short khaki shorts and a white tank top, and she’s looking up at him as if she wants to rip off every stitch.

Someone once looked up at me like that. Her red hair had looked like fire that night.

The poor girl had needed an outlet for her misery all those years ago. I had needed a distraction after losing Quinn’s mother, Marcia. A young, pretty redhead seemed a good enough thing to hold my attention and keep my mind away from other matters. So, I plucked her from Jim’s suicide-study program and tried to cheer her up. Something about seeing so much sadness within such a strong, intelligent, beautiful young woman just broke my heart.

My intentions remained purely innocent at first—a man who wanted to help someone unleash their frustration.

At first.

Things changed, however.

Chef Maurice scares the shit out of Jim as he approaches from the darkness, and the piercing shriek drags me away from memory lane. It’s for the best. I remember some of these things a bit too fondly.

“I’ve dropped meal boxes at each doorstep. They’ll only be hot for a couple of hours, though, so don’t wait too long to grab them.” Chef scratches his nose, looks at his finger, and wipes it on his apron. “Critters might get into it, too. Bugs and shit out here.” He swats at a moth.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” Ezra asks.

Chef Maurice rolls his eyes, then looks at Jim as he says, “Someone wouldn’t let me murder Raul for a nice stew, so enjoy your bland veggie water.”

“Who the hell is Raul?” I ask.

Gary raises his finger and sits a little straighter. “Jim allowed Chef Maurice to bring two Cattle into his⁠—”

“Jim? You what?” My eyes nearly get as big as Gary’s.

“Now, don’t get upset,” Jim says, hands raised in a placating gesture as he gets to his feet. “He wanted some help around the kitchen, and I don’t do dishes.”

“You didn’t feel the need to discuss any of this with me? Cattle, Jim? Fucking Cattle?” My voice damn near cracks as it rises, so I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I speak another word. “You could have sent some staff with him. Hell, let Gary wash his damn dishes since he still thinks he’s on the payroll. You’ve put everyone at risk. You’ve put everything at risk.”

For once in his life, Jim Madigan doesn’t have a rebuttal. He knows it’ll do him no good.

I’m often right, and I often let it slide when I am. I only bring it up now because he’s jeopardizing people’s lives, as well as years of hard work. Two Cattle slaughtering us in our sleep wasn’t part of the scenarios we ran before decommissioning that simulator.

I point at Chef Maurice. “I want them taken to the nearest facility immediately, understood?”