Page 77 of Sinners Retreat

Did he think this would end up being some group orgy? No thanks. I’m surprised I’ve let one psychopath sink inside me. I’m not a fucking pin cushion of self-loathing here. I don’t accept all comers.

We say our awkward parting words, and Ice Pick swims back to shore. He dresses and departs as Ezra and I look anywhere but at each other.

“Well, that was beyond uncomfortable,” I say once we’re alone. Our amazing sexcapade is a distant memory now.

“Sorry. We killers are a bit shit at reading social cues.”

“What part of this said to join us?” I ask, motioning between us.

“If I were him, I would have tried as well.” He swipes his hand down his face. “I’m guessing you want to head back now?”

I begin swimming for shore. “Yeah, that sandwich board is sounding mighty good.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ezra

The incident with Ice Pick had the potential to completely derail the rest of our day, but Kindra takes it in stride, laughing about it on the way back through the jungle. We reach the pavilion right at noon and take a seat.

Maurice’s assistant bustles past us, setting a sandwich board before us and refilling the missing ingredients at other tables. A variety of sliced breads stand at each end of the large wooden board. The meat selection makes my mouth water: turkey, ham, and what I hope is cow-derived roast beef. Each cut of meat has been rolled up and layered around a bowl of mayonnaise.

Kindra picks up a knife and gestures toward the creamy white substance. “This is actually mayo, right?” she asks the assistant as he flutters by again.

The assistant stops his buzzing and stands completely still, a look of horror on his face. He didn’t look this concerned when he served usviande d’homme. It’s not a far cry to assume that they could be using...other things back there in that kitchen.

I back her up. “Honestly, it’s a valid question. It’s really just a yes or no answer.”

“Sick!” he belts in his thick French accent.

“So is eating people,” Kindra says under her breath as he runs off, completely flustered.

I want Kindra to enjoy her lunch, so I take one for the team. I grab the knife from her hand, dip the tip into the mixture, and taste it.

“It’s mayo,” I say with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck.” She plucks the knife from my fingertips and begins building a sandwich.

“Afternoon,” Bennett sings as he comes into the pavilion and has a seat in front of me.

If my brother is here, where is his arch nemesis? His sing-song welcome makes me worry he did in fact stuff her in the dresser...but not to fuck her.

Please tell me he didn’t kill her.

“Bennett, where’s Cat?” I ask.

He grabs a few slices of bread, cheese, and meat, and slaps it all together. “The kitten is asleep.”

Not permanently, I hope. But then I remember Bennett brewing Gary a sleepy-time cocktail. “Did you drug her?”

“Drug her?” Kindra’s eyes go wide.

“Calm your tits,” Bennett says. “Her ankle looked pretty painful, so I thought it would help her sleep.”

I give my brother a knowing look. Kindness doesn’t exist in his repertoire.

He clears his throat and adds, “Plus, someone can only listen to a person sing a vulgar version of theSpongeBob SquarePantstheme song for so long.”

Kindra chuckles and begins humming the tune under her breath.

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