Page 27 of Worshiping Faith

Jinx barely hesitates before stumbling forward, his pupils blown wide as hell.

“Clean this place up,” Dax adds over his shoulder, already moving toward us.

His eyes land on me and Faith and linger just a little too long. But he doesn’t say a damn thing.

Still, something in my chest twists.

Faith doesn’t let go of my arm.

In the hall, Dax grips Jinx’s arm, pulling him in close. His gaze flicks back to me. “Take her home.”

That’s it. No reaction to what he walked in on, no questions, just that order.

Before I can answer, Faith’s glare could peel paint off the walls. “I thought there were no drugs or alcohol,” she snaps, voice sharp as hell.

Dax doesn’t stop walking.

“We good here?” Trip asks, watching Dax disappear down the hall.

“Yeah. Get back to the yard,” Dax calls back.

Trip doesn’t question it. Just vanishes.

Wilkes strolls up, hands in his pockets.

“I thought you secured all the contraband?” Dax’s tone is calm, but there’s a bite under it.

Wilkes barely looks fazed. “I did,” he says easily. “We haven’t had time to sweep the whole island.”

Dax exhales slow, weighing his options. “I’m taking him to the block to question,” he says, gripping Jinx by the back of the shirt and dragging him forward.

Faith steps closer. Too close. “What about that guard?” she asks.

Fuck.

Dax is gonna be pissed.

I shoot her a look, but she just folds her arms, staring him down.

“He smelled like whiskey,” she adds.

That snaps my attention back. “He what?” I say, voice cutting through the air.

Dax stops in his tracks, turning back. He doesn’t need to say anything.

Wilkes just sighs and rubs his jaw, already annoyed at the extra work this means.

“Wilkes, see to this place,” Dax orders. His eyes flick to me. “You two, with me.”

As we start walking, Faith fills him in on what happened with Fredricks, not with me.

Dax listens without a word. But I see it.

The way his jaw tightens, the flicker of murder in his eyes when she gets to the part where Fredricks put his hands on her.

“Bring him in, Zachs,” Dax says, voice like steel.

I don’t even hesitate. “Alive?” I ask, because I need to be sure before I get creative.

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