Page 39 of Worshiping Faith

“Zachs.” I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I just know I don’t want this to end.

His hands tighten on my hips, his breathing roughening, and I know he’s right there with me.

I tilt my hips just right, meeting his thrust, and the moment we both let go, it’s together.

Deep. Shattering.

His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against his chest, holding me so tightly it feels like a promise.

A breathless, wordless promise.

I melt into him.

He lets me.

Neither of us speak.

The walkie cracks to life. “Dax, we got a problem. Ferry Dock. Now.”

Chapter Nine

Dax

I shove Quince into a cell, far enough from Jinx that the poor bastard can come down in peace.

Faith would appreciate that.

I exhale hard, rolling my shoulders. Regret it immediately. My entire right side is on fire, my arm useless at my side, and I’m one wrong move from my knees. But Quince doesn’t need to know that.

I smile and shake my head.

There’s a smear of blood where Wilkes dragged out Fredricks’ body.

Bitch.

The word still grates on me. Bastard had it coming. I should be pissed Zachs beat me to it, but right now? I’m grateful. Saved me the hassle. My fucking shoulder is killing me.

Wilkes should have radioed in by now.

I turn back to Quince. “If you’re lying to me about the stash, you’re gonna wish you had Zachs to deal with.”

Quince grins, all cocky now that there’s iron bars between us. “You’re fucked.”

Brave. Fucker knows I’ve got the keys.

“Fredricks wasn’t working alone, dipshit,” Quince adds, voice light, like we’re just two guys having a chat instead of me contemplating whether I can kill him with my fucked shoulder.

I crack my neck. Now he’s talking?

Wilkes worked him over for an hour, and now, as soon as Wilkes leaves, he’s suddenly ready to spill?

“I’m a dipshit, am I?” I flex my fingers at my side. If moving my arm wouldn’t put me on the floor, I’d be in that cell, finishing what Wilkes started.

Quince’s smirk sharpens. “We weren’t the only site.”

I school my expression. “Weren’t we?” I say, playing along.

Then the walkie crackles. “Dax, we got a problem. Ferry Dock. Now.”

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