Page 24 of Sinners Retreat

“He’s Cattle now. Don’t worry about him. I wish I could have taken a picture of his face when I handed him over, but no photo opps, unfortunately. So what’s got you looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”

It’s an interesting choice of words because I feel like her brother’s ghost has come back to haunt me after so many years.

“Remember the woman I met on the plane?” I say.

“And back at the hotel?”

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “Yes. We had the most incredible night.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“She’s here to find her brother’s killer.”

“And?”

“I’m her brother’s killer.”

Bennett blinks an innumerable amount of times before uttering two words. “What? How?”

“Her brother was clearly unsavory, or I wouldn’t have killed him.”

I brush a hand through my hair. If she’d found this out before we had sex, this would have been so much simpler. Instead, Ihad to listen to her spew her hatred for me while my come was still inside her. That’s fucked, even by my standards.

Bennett shifts his weight between his feet. “Just tell her?—”

“I’ll do no such thing. She can’t know. She mustn’t find out.”

Bennett laughs, and I envision punching a hole in his throat. “The regulars know you as the Abattoir Adonis.”

“Well, we need to make them not know.”

“How?”

“We’ll tell the organizer I want to remain anonymous this year. Then we just need to find the regulars and encourage them to keep schtum.”

“I mean...I guess. But this sounds like a waste of time.”

“Bennett, she can’t find out.” I’ve never been one to beg, but I’d get on my knees and lick boots if it means I can get a handle on this situation.

His eyes roll as he raises his hands skyward in a show of defeat. “Fine, I’ll help.”

How is it so difficult to find these people? It’s an island, and only a small portion has been cleared out for guests.

Knocking on the villa doors proved unfruitful, though I did find Grim cleaning a knife in his Speedo. When the older man answered the door, one testicle hung from the scanty hammock of navy-blue fabric. I couldn’t get him to close the door on my face fast enough after I’d told him to keep my identity a secret.

With Bennett off to tell the organizer, I head to the beach. A huge pavilion stands on a strip of sand. New benches and chairs sit inside, and the outside shines with a new coat of sky-blue paint.

Ice Pick sits on the beach nearby, a beer balancing on his reddening belly as he sleeps. I step closer, and when my shadow eclipses him, he jerks awake. Before I know what’s happening, there’s an ice pick aimed at my gut. Where did that even come from?

Ice Pick lifts his dark sunglasses and laughs. “Hey, Adonis.”

The Ice Pick Killer is a Midwestern phenomenon. He’s brutal, willing to stab first and ask questions later, and I came a fraction of an inch from feeling that sort of evisceration.

“Can you do me a favor?” I ask.

We don’t usually ask each other for favors. This is a very selfish profession, and we are very selfish people. But I don’t see what other options I have.

“Depends what it is,” he says as he tucks his ice pick beneath his hairy thigh.

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