Page 74 of The Brotherhood

The casual tone put 8-Bit on guard. “Really.”

He glanced at him with raised brows. “Guess I’m not the very last to know.”

He eyed him, trying to get a read on what was going through his head. “Man, that’s… congratulations.”

Many nods preceded his, “Yeah…” More silence followed, then a quiet, “Nitro told me.”

Ah, fuck.

“She was too scared to tell me before that little trip we took. Doesn’t know I know. Yet.”

8-Bit shoved his hands in his leather jacket, searching for words that would help. “Probably a smart move, considering our fucked circumstances.”

Two sharp buzzes and Spook reached into the leg pocket of his black cargo pants. He pulled out his phone and looked atthe screen. “That’s her.” He answered it as he turned his back to him. “Hey, you found it?”

8-Bit strolled a couple steps toward the window, giving him privacy.

“I’m headed there now. 8-Bit just got here.” Pause. “I will. I love you too.”

He hung up with a sigh, his blue eyes sharp. “I’ll be back in time for his next death,” Spook said with a calm fury.

8-Bit nodded. “I’ll keep your spot warm.” He held his palm up and Spook smacked it then gripped his shoulder tight.

“Love you, brother,” Spook mumbled as he went.

8-Bit grinned and looked over his shoulder, watching his slick stride. “You got a fine ass, anybody ever tell you?”

He gave one of his dry laughs without turning. “Yeah. Your wife.”

That brought a second real smile to 8-Bit. Two within an hour. He let it fall away as he headed into the med bay.

Too much joy felt like a lure for karma’s drunk cousin these days.

****

Jek stood at the front of the Basilique, Bart’s reports in hand, boots firm against the heavy planked floor. The big fireplace behind him at the back of the room snap-crackled and popped while the smell of chicken and sausage gumbo wafted through the air. The winter was bitch-ass cold this year and pressed in through the floors and walls. Even with the large room packed with bodies, it made itself known.

His gaze fell on the one he’d swore to avoid. Lenora. As usual, she waited for him with a smile that could light up any darkness. Which was a normal thing until two very normal nights ago, when a group of them laughed and traded stories and she’d turned her head in the firelight. He spoke before his braincould stop, told her she was beautiful. It wasn’t some planned confession, but it landed like a thunderclap between them.

Now, every time he saw her, she bore the mark of those words with a sweet blush. Like she was aware there was something he wasn’t ready to say out loud and thought it was sweet. She treated him like he was special. Like God had really outdone himself when creating him. He didn’t mind that she treated everybody like that. It was enough that he somehow found himself in her sweet basket of graces.

Problem was, he did like her. More than was safe, more than was right. She was a nun, still devoted, still proud to wear that title. It was why she’d signed her life away to marry a cyborg. The term sacrificial to a fault was her middle name.

He’d made himself write a list of the things he liked about her. An exercise he’d taken from a book he’d been reading called Writing Your Wrongs. Since everything he felt about her was a thousand percent wicked, he figured it might help.

Well, writing it down did the opposite. Made it go boom. Maybe it only worked on victims, not villains. Maybe he used the wrong paper, the wrong pen. All he knew was now he was having more fantasies about her that added a thousand shades of darkness to what was once gray.

His old one-night-stand inclinations were beating down his door with her. One touch. One taste. One lick. One fucking suck. He was screwed because he would never allow it. Not because he couldn’t seduce her so very easily but because he wanted to protect her sweet spirit more than he wanted to ruin her for anybody else.

He focused his eyes on the list of updates in his hands then gave a slow nod toward Mah-Mah and Lazure before scanning the many faces, careful to zoom over Lenora’s.

“Morning. Almost afternoon,” he added.

The Sisters were always in possession of the spirit-stick and overtook the soft murmurs with zealous greetings in the name of the Lord. Never failed to bring Jek’s grin. They always carried a fighter’s spirit, were always kind. Always eager and ready any time of the day or night to help.

“So… starting with the security side of things. Bart’s got report of movement at all borders.”

The floor creaked as bodies shifted and attention locked in.

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