Page 39 of Entombed In Sin

A grin splits across my face. “I’ll text Knox.”

“Ok, ok, I see what you’re up to,” Knox says, rubbing his hands together as he leans forward between the driver and passenger seat of his car. “We’re about to play Bait and Fish, aren’t we?”

I can smell the alcohol on his breath. I’m not worried though. Knox can drink like a camel and function just fine. It’s almost disconcerting how well he can hold his liquor.

“What’s that?” Beatrix asks curiously, her words slightly slurred.

My mouth twitches.

“It's only one of the most fun games in the world,” Knox explains as he sits back in his seat. “The guys set me loose on a sketchy looking street, and I sway my ass as I walk up it. People can’t resist approaching me. Thus, I become the bait.”

Thatcher chuckles from the passenger seat. “According to social media, there's a ‘bomb-ass party’ happening around here. It’s a bunch of college students. The party should be fizzling out soon, so this is the perfect opportunity to cause a little mayhem.”

Why the fuck is Thatcher sending Knoxthere? He knows what that type of environment does to Knox. Then again… that’s probably my answer right there. If my brother really wants bloodto spill tonight, sending Knox into a party like this will certainly do the trick.

“So there’s going to be a whole lot of fucked up people. Perfect!” Knox exclaims gleefully. “Sounds like we’re playing Fish In A Barrel instead. Even better!”

I stare at the streets as we approach the house the GPS is taking us to. Knox’s first guess wasn’t a bad one. The neighborhood here is, well, rough. Most of the row houses are boarded up and have been for a while. Gangs have tagged street signs, glass and trash have collected along the side of the streets, and I catch sight of a rat scurrying beneath a parked car. There are a few people out. Groups of younger kids hang on the occasional stoop, couples hurry to wherever they need to go.

As we make a few more turns, the houses become just a smidge nicer.

Fewer buildings are boarded up here. Lights are on in windows and families are inside. The people out and about are friends. They loiter in the streets and laugh with one another. A bicycle flies by us as we stop at a stop sign. As we continue on, a few drunken young men help keep each other up by swinging their arms over each other’s shoulders.

We’re close.

The blood in my veins warms and races. Big cities like this make for easy pickings. Even with all the security cameras, doorbells that record, and phones in everyone’s hand—if you strike fast and subtly enough, none of that matters.

I roll my shoulders, aching to get this night going.

“Ok, I’m dropping you off here, Knox. Are you ready?” Thatcher asks. “The house is two blocks up that way.” He points to the right as we come to a four-way stop.

“Got it. I’m psyched, let’s do this!” He whoops and Beatrix giggles in response.

As Thatcher stops the car, Knox leans forward and plants a kiss on my cheek, then Thatcher’s. He pulls back, opens his door, and as he climbs out he says, “Give me an hour and let’s see how many fish I can catch. Wish me luck, boys.”

“Have fun, Pretty Boy,” Thatcher calls out.

Knox doesn’t look back as he saunters up the street, hips swaying and a hand raking through his wavy blond curls, heading toward the party. My eyes linger on his ass. Once we’re done here, I’m going to take it.

Thatcher doesn’t linger along the side of the road. He pulls away and turns left at the intersection and takes off in the opposite direction.

“An inebriated Knox with a group of assholes… I didn’t realize you were looking to cause a massacre tonight,” I growl as I look over at Thatcher.

My brother shrugs with a smug smile. “Didn’t I say I wanted the streets to run red? You know better than to think I was exaggerating. In any case, you know how much Knox loves being around assholes his age.”

I do know that. I also know how carried away he can get in this type of environment. The last time we played this game, he’d been nearly fucked before we got there—having antagonized one too many marks at one time. But Knox can’t seem to help himself in these situations.

“We’ll be there if he needs help,” Thatcher says unnecessarily.

Of course we will be. In the meantime…

As Thatcher drives, taking random left and right turns, I turn my head—not quite looking over my shoulder, and ask, “Are you ready to play, Little Viper?”

There’s a short pause. Her nervous energy behind me has been an ever-present feeling since we got into the car. Knox’s excitable one overpowered her apprehension, but without himhere, Beatrix is left exposed. I half-expect her to balk. Last night, she had the safety of solitude to explore the thrill of killing. Tonight will be vastly different, and I’m sure she’s picked up on that, drunk or not.

“What do I need to do?” she asks.

Surprise and delight are a warm burst of emotional fireworks in my chest. Her eagerness, my reaction—both are unexpected but welcomed. My lips peel back in a grin as I turn in my seat to give her my undivided attention. Despite her drunken, happy stupor, Beatrix flinches at my abrupt movement. She tucks her chin against her chest, drops her gaze to the floor of the car, and pulls her shoulders inwards. I hate the reaction.

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