Page 85 of Worshiping Faith


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“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.