Page 82 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

“Skills, like, how to be a thug? How to do illegal shit?”

Grinning, he drops a kiss on her nose. “Shush.” Then his eyes go to Ang’s. “Things like how to be a thug, and how to do illegal shit. I have money. I already have a home. I have Eric and Spence who have their own skill sets.”

“And don’t forget Cruz,” Jess adds.

He nods solemnly. “Him, too. When he’s cleared and allowed back on deck, I’m pulling him in. He deserves more than desk work, so I’m getting him up again if it’s the last thing I do. That makes four of us who know shit and how to get it done. Ang is allowed in whenever he wants. He’s got brass balls.”

“Bish.” Ang’s heavy brows pull tight. “Zip it.”

“I’m just sayin’, the offer’s always there. Maybe we could do a contractual basis thing.” He smiles like a goofball. “You ain’t too old for this shit yet.” Unamused, Ang’s angry eyes stoke the curiosity that once ruled my life, but before I can ask, Kane finishes with, “Checkmate.”

Jessie smiles. She already knows what he’s talking about.

But I tilt my head with curiosity. “Huh?”

Kane flashes a handsome smile and repeats, “Checkmate.”

I narrow my eyes. “Chess…? You join a national team and find prize money or something?”

He snorts. “No. My last name is Bishop, right?”

I nod.

“Jay’s last name was Bishop.” His eyes darken.

Kane’s little brother died the day we thought Kane died. With everything going down the way it did, then Kane being whisked away and stuffed somewhere away from civilian life for months, I’m not sure he’s mourned his brother’s death yet.

It’s kind of just… not talked about.

Jess brings her hand up and strokes his face. No one asks for clarification, but he leans into her hand and smiles. “Love you.”

She leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too.”

He looks to Ang. Then me. “Bishop is a chess piece, and when used well, it can be powerful.”

“Okay…”

“But when the queen takes the board, she says…”

“Checkmate.”

He grins. “Checkmate. My queen took the board, and I’m not even sorry.”

“What’s this got to do with work?” I ask. Ang steps closer and leans against the same counter I do, and when our shoulders touch, I barely stop myself from squeaking.

It’s just Ang! Why am I nervous?

Not so long ago, I’d have moved away. Goosebumps would race beneath my skin and my heart would hammer in my chest.

My instincts would scream at me to run.

The goosebumps are here. The racing heart, too. But I don’t run.

Half a day of messing around at an adult playground with a gun in my hands and him touching my body the entire time – my hip, my shoulder, my back – I find a different kind of sensation when my heart races.

I’ve been desensitized to his touch in the best way.

I smile, because I don’t want to run. Then I blush, because Kane’s eagle eyes notice my smile.

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