Page 62 of Sinners Reunion

A few of the girls grimace, and I wince. Poor Gary. Bad choice of words, bud.

“I don’t mind if it stays open,” I say. “Anyone object?”

Heads shake all around the car.

“We’re good, Gare Bear,” Eve says. She reaches through the window and gives his shoulder a squeeze. “You just pretend you’re the little brother listening in, and don’t tell our secrets or we’ll kick your ass. Got it?”

His eyes bulge. “Got it.”

Grim peers out the window. “I am getting too old for this.”

“So do you plan to suck King’s soul out now that you know what he did last night?” Cat asks.

“She didn’t know?” Kindra looks at me.

Frankie scoffs. “I’m shocked he didn’t brag about it himself.”

“That’s what we said.” Eve laughs. “He didn’t, though. We had the honor of telling her ourselves.”

Half the girls start fanning themselves, and I want to crawl into a hole and disappear. I love the spotlight when I choose to stand beneath it, but it’s far less comfortable when someone else holds it there. Right now, they’re all shining a light on something I’m no longer certain I want to see.

Because maybe King isn’t acting cocky because he’s come up with some plan to win the bet. Maybe he’s already accepted his loss . . . and I don’t know how to feel about that. King . . . in love with me? I certainly can’t process it right now.

I’ve got to change the direction of the conversation, and fast.

“I doubt he’d do it again,” I say. “Where are we going for lunch?”

“We could always test him,” Frankie offers.

Quinn nods. “Heck yeah. The body-shots prank went off well with everyone’s help. We just have to catch lightning in a bottle again.”

So much for changing the subject.

The other girls are quick to agree, including Rose, and with Gary already sworn to little-brother secrecy, they begin to form a plan. By the time we reach the cottage restaurant, they’ve nailed down the details. All without any help from me.

Gary will get a prop gun from Jim, which he’ll transfer to Blayne. Even they’ve picked up on the fact that King feels threatened by Blayne, so he’s the best one to play the part of the shooter. Meanwhile, Eve will explain things to Ice Pick, and the girls will tell their partners. Bringing everyone into the loop except King ensures no one else tries to play hero.

And what am I meant to do? Why, be the target of more gun violence, of course.

I’m not sure how to feel about any of this, but I go along to get along. As long as it’s a prop gun and no one will get hurt, it’s not a big deal. Besides . . . maybe this will help me see how King really feels. For myself, this time. If he tries to save me again, I’ll know I’ve won. And if he doesn’t . . .

Well, then I’ll know to tighten my fucking defenses because he’s up to something.

We file into the restaurant Jim rented for our excursion. Mimosa’s flow, and after less than thirty minutes and far too much alcohol, we hurry back to the car. We’re all too excited to eat.

I’m tipsy as hell by the time we roll up at the farmhouse, but that’s probably for the best. What I’m about to do will take some liquid courage. It was a hell of a lot easier when I didn’t know someone had a gun aimed at me. This time, I’ll see it coming. Even knowing it’s fake isn’t enough to calm my nerves.

We shuffle up the gravel drive, doing our best to sober a touch as we pick over the craggy terrain. This would have been a lot easier three mimosas ago. Then again, now that we’re starting to sober, I’m sensing that everyone’s changed their minds.

Quinn pulls her hair away from her shoulders. “All that alcohol is making me a touch warm. I might have to cool off before we do this.”

“Oh, shit,” Kindra says. I look behind me as she doubles over, holding her stomach. “I know better than to drink booze on an empty stomach.”

I hurry to her side and rub her back. “Fellow IBS girly here. The moment we get back to base camp, load up on water to dilute the sugar and acid in your gut.”

“Thanks,” she says through gritted teeth. She clenches her eyes shut, then opens one to look at me. “Should I trust it?”

“Trust what?” Quinn asks.