Page 71 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

“It’s weird is all I’m saying.” He knocks my boots to the floor and sniggers when I sit forward with a grunt. “You think we don’t all watch your security feed at night now?” He sits on Riley’s desk ten feet away from me. “You think I didn’t notice you were out all night?”

“So?” I scoff and power up my computer, if only for something to do with my hands. “You wanna talk about bedmates? Or do you wanna mind your own business?”

He grins and lifts his hands between us. “Just saying; I like her. I like that you’re smiling. And I like that you’re not freaking out about it.”

“You like that I’m smiling, so you figure teasing about it is the right response?”

He snorts and stands when Jay walks into the office with Soph pulled tight under his arm. “Yup. I like that you’re finding happiness. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be nice about it. Jay isn’t ashamed that he’s whipped. Kane’s turned into a fuckin’ marshmallow, and now he’s gonna get married like a little bitch boy. Riley lost a leg, so I feel like there’s a code of honor that means I can’t tease.” Riley rolls his eyes behind Spence’s back. “The only fucker around here with balls now is the ball-less bag of sissy-hood Ang, and that shit is just weird. Since when did he become our baddest brother? He’s not even one of us!”

“He’s one of us,” Kane snaps. “Stop bitching.”

“I meant he doesn’t work here. Jesus, calm your vagina down before you go into hysterics.”

“Guys?” Jess’ shout comes from down the hall. “Can somebody come help me for a sec?”

And just like that, she gets everyone running and forgetting about teasing me. Even our brother on a prosthetic leg runs to the pregnant twin carrying twins. We emerge into the garage to find Jess standing at the car door, puffing for breath and fanning her face. It’s October and cool enough that I’m wearing a coat, but she’s fanning her face and wearing shorts. From front on, she looks completely normal, but when she turns side on to look into her car, I see a baby bump that still surprises the fuck out of me.

She’s growing fast, and there are two in there.Bishops. Those babies are gonna be big, and she won’t be able to hold it all in for long. Her shorts are already being held up with a rubber band, since she can’t fasten the button, and her top stretches around what she’s got.

I feel like she’s fighting the system and refusing maternity clothes, but she’ll cave soon. She won’t be able to keep shimmying into those shorts no matter how many rubber bands she works with.

Turning back to our group with red roses in one hand, peonies in another –fuck me for knowing what peonies are– and orchids squished between the two, she holds them up proudly. “Pick.”

Kane steps forward slowly as though approaching a wild animal. “What are you doin’, Blondie?”

“We have to pick wedding flowers. We’re on a tight time frame, so pick one, real quick.”

“Um…”

“Peonies,” I cough. “Pick the peonies.”

Kane turns to me with a smirk, but then he shrugs and turns back. “Peonies.”

Jess flashes a wide smile. “Okey dokey.” She tosses the samples back into the car and pulls out a planner instead. She drops it on the roof of her car, flips the pages open, and starts writing. “Abigail will be happy you chose those.”

“Oh…kay. I have no fuckin’ clue who that is, but I’ll trust you on that.”

“Abigail,” Jess frowns. “My florist. We spoke about this already!”

When he only shrugs, Jess rolls her eyes and leans back into the car, only to come out with squares of fabric. Yellow. Red. Rose. Peach. Navy. Silver. Green. Gold. “Pick one. Whichever one you pick will cover the tablecloths, napkins, bridesmaid dresses, and your groomsmen’s vest thingies.”

“The waistcoats.” I hate myself for correcting a girl on this shit. I hate that I know it all, and I especially hate how everyone’s eyes come back to me. They grin, then they go back to Jess.

“Yes!” She smiles. “The waistcoat. Now pick a color, Bishop.”

“Silver!” the wrong Bishop answers. “I like the silver.”

Kane shrugs. “Silver. It’s badass.”

“Color of a knife blade,” Spence adds.

Jay nods. “Color of a bullet.”

“It’s the color of my Glock, baby.”

“It’s the color of all your brains when I smoosh them on the concrete for talking too much,” Jess throws down. “Okay, we’re locking in the silver.” She tosses the fabric back into the car, then stands again with a tired grunt. “Okay. Bishop or Lenaghan?”

Kane lifts a brow. “Huh?”

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