Page 74 of Sin

Dios, why did I assume marriage would make Bennett mature? If anything, his husbands only enabled his ridiculous ideas.

“Do I really have to do this?” I hissed, wanting to get out of this damn thing before long. Bennett had cut arm holes, leg holes, and eye holes into the bag for me to make my grand escape. But I was currently tucked into a ball with my arms and legs hidden with the bag to make me look like any old garbage. Escape couldn’t come fast enough. I was one wrong shift from a charley horse, and I was pretty sure my back was going to hold a grudge against me for the next week.

“Come on, Sin,” Bennett whisper-shouted as he reached for the doorbell. “Lighten up and have a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, but why do I have to be naked underneath?”

“You’re still a wanted criminal. We have to have some sort of insurance so you won’t try to run away!”

I glared at him through my mismatched peep holes, though I doubted he’d be able to see my expression even if he did look at me. I didn’t plan to run away, and even if I did, I wouldn’t get far with my tracker. Honestly, I was pretty positive he stole my clothes because he thrived off of chaos.

Besides, it was easy for him to tell me to lighten up when he didn’t have a trash bag making him sweat and clinging to his body. All he had to do was press the doorbell and hide.

And that, he did. Right before hightailing it out of dodge.

The light in the house switched on, and murmuring voices sounded from within. Footsteps shuffled toward the door, and then the lock clicked as someone inside opened the door.

I held my breath as the door cracked open and a tiny elderly woman with hair in curlers and a pink, polka-dotted robe, peeked through the opening.

“Hello?” she called, peering around the empty porch. “Damn kids.” Her gaze fell on my trash bag, and she huffed out a breath. “Harry! Did you forget to take the trash to the bin?”

“What did ya say, Hellen?” another voice shouted from inside.

“There’s a garbage bag on the porch!”

“What the hell did you say? Batman’s in the forge?”

“No! A bag! A bag’s on the porch.”

“Huh? Bhutan’s discourse?”

“No! Will you just come here already?”

There was some mild grumbling and shuffling around and then the front door opened wider. A man, who I presumed to be Harry, hobbled to stand beside Hellen. He squinted at my trash bag. “What is that?”

“A trash bag!”

Harry rubbed his chin. “That’s what you’ve been yelling about? Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?”

Hellen looked about ready to lock poor Harry out of the house. “I did, but you forgot to put your hearing aids in again.” She waved a frantic hand at me. “So?”

Harry looked perplexed. “Well, I didn’t put it there!”

“Then what’s it doing here?”

“I don’t know, but I didn’t put it there,” he insisted. Then he frowned. “At least, I don’t remember leaving a trash bag here.”

Hellen started shoving him out the door. “Well, take it to the bin. What would the neighbors think if they saw?”

“I don’t give a damn what the neighbors think.”

Still, Harry moved to grab my bag. And even though I felt absolutely ridiculous, I shoved my hands through their holes in the bag and jumped to my feet.

Harry stumbled backward. Hellen shrieked. I waved my arms above my head and said, “I am trash man. Rawr.”

What I didn’t expect was to scare Harry so badly that he collapsed to the ground, clutching at his chest.

“Oh, shit!” I said, dropping to my knees beside the old man. He sucked in short, harsh breaths, still grappling at his chest like that would help him. “Fuck, I think he’s having a heart attack!”

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