Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Maverick
T he ship is immaculate. In true Jim fashion, he took a luxury cruise and made it even more luxurious. Most of the people aboard this ship don’t even realize what’s situated below deck, and they never will. If the Normies knew what was going on...
At least he gave everyone a wristband so that we can tell who’s who at a glance. It wouldn’t do for people to walk around in colored jumpsuits like we’re some Squid Game knockoff. That would have drawn too much suspicion.
The Cattle wear their usual colors, though sometimes only on their wrists instead of their entire bodies—pink for the horrible pedos, red for the SA monsters, and yellow for the run-of-the-mill criminals.
Purple is reserved for known killers, and orange signals someone as a member of staff.
Blue is new. Blue means the wearer is a Normie.
Allowing normal people into our serial-killer retreat is risky.
That’s the understatement of the year. Granted, we thrive on risk, but still, inviting the Average Joe to wander so close to our secret doings is the most daring and dangerous thing we’ve done.
Jim is either a genius or completely unhinged.
I guess we’ll find out which one soon enough.
I spot Bennett a little further down the hallway. We’ve been tasked with ensuring the new arrivals wear their wristbands. Ezra was looped in as well, but his shift ended about an hour ago.
“We need to make sure none of the Normies catch a ride on the wrong elevator,” Bennett says as he approaches me. “Two blue bands almost went to the Sinner suites because Grim and Rosie weren’t paying attention.”
I nod and look toward the elevators. The bands were a great idea, but they aren’t without their flaws. “Jim should have kept the Sinner guest list closed to new applicants for this event. He still hasn’t told me who I’m watching and why.”
“Did you expect any fucking different? He’s Jim.
Secrets excite him more than murder, and that’s saying something.
If you want him to tell you something, you just have to act like you don’t care.
The more you ask him to tell you, the longer he’ll make you wait.
” Bennett’s watch beeps, and he looks down.
“Our shift is over. Maybe you can figure it out when you meet your roommate.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Bennett glances at his watch again, then claps his hand on my shoulder. “Well, I’m off to check on Cat. She’s already puked three times, and we aren’t even at sea yet.”
With that, he turns and heads toward the elevator.
Instead of following him, I take the stairs to the atrium. Bennett’s advice is sound, and he’s not incorrect, but I’d still feel better if I knew something about the stranger I have to sleep beside for the next week.
I don’t spot Jim in the atrium, but I do see Ice Pick. He stands on the second floor, with his forearms draped over the balcony railing. In his right hand, he holds a beer. As he looks down, he gives me a little wave.
He’s the only familiar face I see, so I start up the staircase.
He’s a bit of an odd guy, and I think there’s some undiagnosed mental issues going on there, but he means well.
I would say he’s harmless, but his victims would disagree.
He’s just your typical lonely, middle-aged, awkward dude who enjoys killing people.
“Hey, Ice,” I say as I approach him.
He raises his hand in a high-five, but I don’t realize that’s what it is until he’s started to lower his arm. I thought it was another wave.
“You been to your room yet?” He takes a pull from the beer bottle in his hand. “Better yet, have you seen the dime piece that Ezra was showing around?”
“Dime piece?”
Ice Pick nods. “Yeah, total ten. Dark hair, blue eyes, and ass for days.”
“You gonna go for her?”
“Me? Hell no.” He laughs and drinks his beer. “Every time I try to put the moves on a chick, I end up pissing off one of my friends. First it was Ezra. Then it was Bennett. I’m steering clear this time.”
“Don’t give up on love, Ice. Your woman is out there. If you give up, you’ll never find her.”
He lets out a burp that smells like the inside of a cattle barn. “Maybe you’re right. Thanks, Maverick.”
“Anytime.” I glance around the atrium, but I still don’t see who I’m looking for. “I need to speak with Jim. Have you seen him?”
“Last I saw, he was heading toward the kitchen to talk to Maurice about tonight’s menu. Being the first night and all, you know how particular he is about the dinner.” He looks at his watch and whistles. “Speaking of, we’d best go to our rooms and get geared up.”
“Geared up?”
Ice downs the rest of the bottle. “Yeah, no formal attire tonight. Jim wants us dressed like spacemen.”
Before I can ask what he means, he turns, tosses his bottle into the trash, and heads for the stairs. I guess I’d better go to my room if I want answers to all of my questions.
Using the special elevator that only responds to purple and orange wristbands, I head toward the Sinners’ accommodations. I follow the numbered doors until I reach mine, then swipe my band. The lock clicks open, and I step inside.
Darkness shrouds the room. The curtains have been drawn tight, and all the lights are off.
I don’t even have time to feel for the light switch as the door clicks shut behind me.
Standing still, I allow my eyes to adjust to the shadows.
Despite the heavy-duty blackout curtains, a bit of fading sunshine squeaks through the outer edges and provides a little light.
It’s enough for me to make out the outline of the bed.
And the figure snoring on top of it.
With the thick blankets piled over the sleeping form, I can’t tell if it’s a woman or a man.
The person makes use of the entire king bed, however, so I can already tell that our sleeping arrangement is less than ideal.
Hopefully, Jim has a cot or something I can crash on to avoid the arms and legs currently stretched over every inch of mattress.
As I step closer, the loud snores reach a crescendo and stop abruptly, almost as if the individual choked on their tongue. Meanwhile, I’m amazed they can sleep through their own sounds.
“Is someone there?” a feminine voice asks.
I raise my hand in a wave she likely can’t see. “Sorry for the interruption. I’m your roommate. My name’s?—”
The light beside the bed clicks on, and a dark-haired woman squints up at me. Though she’s fully clothed, she pulls the blanket around her chest as if she’s naked.
“My name is Maverick. There’s no need to panic.” I hold out my hands and take a step back. She looks terrified.
Then she blinks, looks around, and seems to remember where she is. “Shit, am I late?”
“For dinner? No. We still have about thirty minutes. That’s why I came to the room. One of my friends said we have to dress like space people, and I wanted to see what that was about.”
She looks down at her bags and things strewn across the foot of the bed. “Jeez, where are my manners? Sorry about the mess.” After tossing the blanket aside, she begins pushing her things to the floor. Then she holds her hand toward me as she kneels at the foot of the bed. “I’m Frankie.”
I grip her hand in mine and give it a shake, taking note of the purple wristband on her slender arm. Questions fill my head. If she’s one of us, why does Jim want me to keep tabs? And what does he hope to discover?
And why is she so goddamn beautiful?
“Frankie, huh?”
“It’s short for Francesca. Despite being incredibly unfeminine, my mother chose the floweriest name she could think of.”
“So that she could call you Frankie,” I say with a shrug.
Her eyes light up. “Oh my gosh, I’ve never thought of that before.”
She lets out a laugh that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. She looks like she might be older than me, but not by much.
Despite her beauty, and despite the fact that we’ll be forced to sleep in the same room, I have no plans to fall into the same pits my friends have. Ezra and Bennett came out of these retreats in relationships, and I don’t have time for that.
Hell, the moment we get back on dry land after the cruise, we were all supposed to head to Texas in search of the missing Carter sister.
Ezra found a woman fitting the description, and he wants to get some sneaky DNA before we confront her.
Bennett can’t go because he promised Cat he’d help her get ready for college, and Ezra can’t go because he has to be Kindra’s arm candy for an upcoming press event.
That leaves me, the last man standing.
“Your friend wasn’t so off about the outfits for tonight, though,” she adds. “Take a look for yourself. Yours is still hanging up.”
I backtrack to the closet and pull the garment bag from inside. Sure enough, the outfit looks like something from a 1950s sci-fi nightmare. Frankie pulls hers out as well, and together, we stare at the abominations.
“Is this normal for one of these retreats? The weird suits, I mean.” Frankie looks up at me.
“No, we’re usually required to dress for dinner, especially the first and last nights, but never like this. I don’t know what Jim has up his sleeve.”
But we’re about to find out.