Page 26 of Worshiping Faith

“When do you get time off?” she asks.

I grin. She wants me. Already. “You gonna nail me?” I ask.

She smirks. Unapologetic. “That, or knock some boots.”

Jesus Christ.

Before I can even process what the hell that does to me…

Shouting.

Chow hall.

Of course. That’s my fucking luck.

I pop my walkie. “Got Faith over here. Sounds like a fight at chow.”

“On it,” Trip replies.

“Five minutes out,” Wilkes says.

“Here,” Dax. Already moving.

Faith smooths my shirt, draws her gun.

Like this is just normal for us now.

I raise a brow. “Will it matter if I say stay here?”

She shoves me toward the door. “Go.”

And she’s on my ass.

No hesitation. Not even a second.

My focus razor sharpens as I fling open the door and tear toward chow.

“Enough!” Dax’s voice booms from inside the room, carrying into the hallway like a gunshot.

Trip barrels toward us, his eyes immediately landing on Faith. A slight frown.

I almost smirk. Damn right, brother, she’s been with me.

I step inside, scanning the scene.

Nothing shocking. Tables flipped. A few busted lips, swollen knuckles, blood smeared across the floor but no one bleeding out. No bodies.

Fredricks is missing. Probably whimpering in a corner somewhere, wishing I hadn’t seen his hands on her.

Pity.

“Start talking,” Dax orders, voice edged with lethal patience.

“Jinx is zoomin’,” Grip calls from the back.

I barely flick a glance his way. High. Great. Someone’s got a stash, and that means a bigger problem than just a fistfight.

Dax’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t react beyond that. Not yet. “Jinx, with me.”

---