Page 53 of Sinners Reunion

With a roll of her eyes, she looks toward the horses. “Which one am I on?”

I point to a spitfire palomino with hell in her hooves. “You’re on Toot Sweet Sue.”

“Who the fuck names these animals?”

“Me.”

She purses her lips. “My bad.”

“Well, what would you have called her?”

Josie raises her fingers to her chin and squints at the mare as she considers. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t be Toot Sweet Sue. Makes me think of an e-girl farting into a jar for subs.”

“Do you ever have normal thoughts?”

“Not usually, no.”

It’s one of the many things about her that drives me insane in the best possible way. The little shocks she gives me whenever she opens her mouth make life interesting. Though, now that I’m thinking about shocks she’s given me with her mouth, I find myself longing for her head in my lap.

I grit my teeth and look around for the most unsexy thing I can find before someone notices the bulge in my denim. Instead, her heaving cleavage pulls me in, making it worse.

Josie raises her hand and tickles the scruff on my jaw. “I’m kind of liking this rugged side of you.”

“Careful,” I say as my dick tries to punch through the fly. “Don’t go falling in love.”

“Admiring a tiger doesn’t mean you want to take it home.” She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me. “What happens when the tiger realizes he enjoyed the company, though?”

“They’re solitary creatures, only coming together to mate. It’s a very fitting comparison for both of us, actually.”

“Haven’t lost your ability to ruin a good metaphor, I see.” She rolls her eyes. “I can’t wait for you to lose this stupid bet.”

We’ll just see who loses. For right now, we need to get in our seats. It’s almost time for the show to begin.

Chapter Sixteen

Josie

Blood soaks the sawdust as a bull gores its victim. The horn sinks into the doughy abdomen and digs around until it comes up red as roses. The man is already dead; his neck broke after the first toss into the air.

“Damn, we’re out,” Frankie says to Maverick. “I thought I picked a good one, too. He looked so athletic.”

Before the first event, Jim allowed us to bid at an auction. We each purchased the Cattle we thought could best survive in a battle royale match with a bull. Last team breathing will be declared the winner.

“The bidding started at five hundred Madigan Moneys,” Maverick says. “We all thought he was a shoe in.”

“What do we do with our leftover Madigan Moneys?” Josie asks.

Quinn giggles and holds out the paper currency Jim printed last week. His grinning face adorns the central oval, and on the back, Kenny flies over a pyramid. He spent a month finalizing the design with himself.

“He fucked up, and I’m cashing in,” Quinn says. “Look at the fine print on the front.”

Aven takes the bill from her hand and squints at the tiny letters. His concentration shifts into a smile. “I’ll be damned, she’s right. It says, Jim Madigan will honor this currency as legal tender.”

I snatch the fake money from him and read the lettering, and he’s correct. Poor Jim. He’s going to hate this. It was certainly supposed to say he would not honor the currency.

Another cheer rings through the crowd as Eve’s choice flies into the air and lands on the railing surrounding the arena. Jim covered it with razor wire in case any Cattle tried to escape by climbing over the top. The silver points turn the victim into a bloody mess of skin and exposed muscle. He drops back to the sawdust, still breathing.

“I’m not out yet, honey!” Eve shouts. Popcorn flies from a red-and-white box in her hand as she stands and bellows for the bastard to hide.