Page 85 of Worshiping Faith

“Trip at the helm, one of us on Jinx, one on Faith, that leaves the other to keep forty or so assholes in line,”Dax had said.

Logical. Calculated.

And yeah, I get that too.

Mason can captain a boat. Keep us moving. Give Trip time to sleep.

And the bastard? Dead-on shot. Every time.

And no one’s crossing his fucking lines.

I get it.

But I don’t fucking like it.

Because expand? Grow the fucking inner circle?

That’s Faith too.

That’s her.

And that means…

I fling another crate, rattling the deck.

That means Dax is making room.

For Wilkes.

For Trip.

For fucking Irish and Mason?

No.

Nope.

Not fucking happening.

I won’t let it.

Irish and Dax stride across the dock, scanning the crowd side by fucking side.

Never thought I’d see the day.

Last time these two shared air, it was a beautiful bloodbath. Had to replace a few guards. Absolutely brilliant.

This?

This is trouble.

I roll my shoulders, grip tightening around the knife at my belt. A good three seconds and I could slit Irish’s fucking throat before he even knew it was coming.

Wouldn’t be the worst way to end this day.

Before I get the chance to do the world that favor…

Crack.

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