Page 8 of Sinners Retreat

Not really, but I nod.

She holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Cat. Your new personal assistant!”

I scream in my head. “The fuck you say. I have never and will never have a PA. I don’t need one.”

“I booked our flights and reserved our spots at the retreat, so I’ve already proven myself useful. I’ve also spoken with your boss, who agreed to pay for the trip since it’s for work.”

“Youwhat?” The scream makes its way to my throat, but I swallow it and force my hands to remain in my lap so that I don’t gouge out her eyes with my nails. “I had vacation time saved up, which I planned to use. This isn’t for work! Whatever happens on that island, I can’t fucking write about it, Cat!”

The girl is unfazed. She just sips her coffee and smiles at me. “I’ve worked that out too. I didn’t give your boss any details, buthe knows you plan to reveal the identity of a serial killer. He doesn’t know it’s the Abattoir Adonis, but he’ll probably give you a bonus when he finds out. You can get an exclusive interview, pictures...just think of the possibilities. And after you’ve outed him, he gets to spend his nights staring at a cell wall. The revenge is just the cherry on top.”

“You consider jail time revenge?” I blink. It’s all I can do at this point. “Do you know how many murder fantasies you’ve just wrenched from my grasp?”

“I mean, I just?—”

“You just what? Fucked up? Ruined my life? Destroyed any hope I had of torturing this asshole?”

Tears brim at the edges of her lashes. “I’m sorry, Kindra. I didn’t mean to fuck up. I thought I was helping.”

Closing my eyes, I begin to count to ten. I make it to four before the urge to strangle her overwhelms me. To prevent myself from committing a second murder this week, I stand to leave.

“Please don’t go,” she says. She sounds almost lovesick as she pleads for me to stay. “I won’t do anything else without asking for your approval first. I didn’t know this would backfire like this.”

I take a deep breath and turn around before I reach the door. “Do you realize what you’ve done? It’s so much worse than you realize. I can’t interview or bring to light any of the killers at the retreat. They will have seen my face. I’ll be dead before I write the first line of the exposé. Now my boss expects a big story, so I either have to forfeit my job or my fucking life.”

“Well, while you’re busy murdering, maybe I can come up with a solution to this problem. We could always?—”

“You will do no such thing. For the remainder of our time together—which will hopefully last only until the end of this trip—you will refrain from anything you considerhelpful. Now, I’mgoing home. Email the flight information, and don’t contact me otherwise.”

The girl couldn’t look more stricken if I’d actually struck her, but she nods and walks me to my car. I allow it because I’m not entirely heartless.

Part of me feels slightly guilty for raking her over the coals, but she stoked this fire herself. Now I’m left to make sure all the cinders are reduced to ashes.

“I’m really sorry,” she says again as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Maybe we can figure something out.”

I grip the steering wheel and look into her eyes. “Iwill figure something out.”

After slamming the door, I start the car. I need to get out of here before I become even more fucked than I already am. While I don’t see how that’s possible, I’m sure Cat can find a way.

As I pull onto the road, my mind is already whirling with ways to get myself out of this mess. My boss is a shrewd man. He’ll likely fire me if I don’t return from this trip withsomethingsalacious. I only hope I can come up with an angle before the return flight.

My mind clicks off a mental checklist as I drive. I’ll need to do some shopping tomorrow. Never having been one for a hot-girl summer, I fear my wardrobe is a bit lacking in the swimsuit department. It’s a five-day retreat, and I can’t be seen in the same thing twice, so that means I’ll have five swimsuits to toss in the trash when I return.

As for the activities...I have plenty to bring along in the way of weaponry. Throwing stars, my trusty serrated knife, my beloved garrote. The options are endless, and I don’t get to use most of my arsenal because it doesn’t fit with my MO.

On the island, though, I could be anyone.

I have exactly zero plans to use my usual methods. The risk of discovery is too high, and even in a crowd of people who arejust as high up on the FBI’s shit list, I have no desire to reveal my identity. Only one person could possibly fuck this up for me.

And now she’s my personal assistant.

Chapter Four

Ezra

Bennett pulls up to my house thirty minutes early. The man is early for everything. Our flight doesn’t leave for three hours, but he wants to get groped by TSA as quickly as possible.

Despite having different mothers, we look fairly similar. We both share our father’s dark hair, but he has steel-blue eyes and twenty-twenty vision to rival my brown eyes and glasses. He also has numerous tattoos and a few piercings in unmentionable places. I have one tattoo that I’d love to forget.

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