Page 40 of Worshiping Faith

It’s Trip.

Fuck.

Quince laughs.

I snap my eyes back to him. He knows something. “You got another man inside here yanking my chain? You talk, you might walk.”

Quince’s smirk doesn’t falter.

But then, “You better tell him,” Jinx mutters.

I swing my head toward Jinx.

The tweaker is shaking, his hands white-knuckle tight on the bars.

Jinx? What the hell does he know? “What do you know, Jinx?”

“Shut your mouth,” Quince says, but there’s a flicker of something in his face now.

That’s interesting.

How the hell does a tweaker have shit on the guards?

I stride to Jinx’s cell. “Talk.”

Jinx shivers. His pupils are blown, sweat dripping from his temple despite the cool air.

“Dax, man,” He swallows, his whole body trembling. “I needed it. They,”

“They who?” I bark.

The walkie crackles again. “Dax, you copy?” Trip’s voice is sharper this time.

“On my way,” Wilkes answers.

“Don’t let ‘em land,” Jinx blurts. His voice is so raw, so frantic, it shoves ice into my veins. “Don’t let them take me. Dax, please. It’s just Fredricks and Quince til the others get here.”

I go completely still. “Land?”

Jinx’s shaking worsens, his eyes darting between me and the door like he’s waiting for someone to burst through it.

“Dax?” It’s Trip again.

What the hell is waiting for me at the dock?

“Five minutes,” I snap into the walkie.

I turn back to Jinx, who’s watching me like I already failed him. “Land?” I demand again.

Jinx swallows hard. His eyes shine with fear. “The ones who did this to me,” he whispers.

Something in my chest goes tight.

Quince laughs again, the sound cutting straight through the tension. “His mind is mush, Dax,” he says. “You’re fucked.”

My trigger finger twitches.

I need to move. Now.

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