Page 39 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

Jocelyn’s expression was one of borderline madness. She wrung her hands.

“WHO?”

“Blight.”

Bishop shot me a questioning glance, but I waved him off.

“Who the hell is Blight?” Jocelyn demanded angrily.

“They were a mercenary outfit,” I went on, without a hitch. “Now they’re a crime syndicate. It happens sometimes. And when it does, it’s never good.”

Her pretty eyes fluttered over to Bishop. They had a long history, the two of them. And for some strange reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on, that history was making me fiercely jealous.

“He’s right,” Bishop affirmed. “We worked with them back in Jordan, when they were legit. Then… something happened. Something bad. And after that—”

“They fell into some really foul shit,” I took over for him. “Most mercenary groups eventually disband, but not Blight. The founders left, but they went on too long. Three very rich, very powerful men took over, and started using them for the worst kinds of things. They hired thugs instead of soldiers. They took jobs no respectable military outfit would ever consider.”

“All this, and youworkfor them?” Jocelyn asked incredulously.

“No,” Bishop snapped quickly. “Not even close.”

“So then why are you—”

“Because weowethem one,” I said, trying not to snarl. “And we came all the way out here to pay them back.”

Jocelyn’s hair swirled in the morning breeze. It bounced all about her porcelain face, obscuring whatever expression I was trying to read.

“If you’re going to tell her, tell her everything,” Bishop urged. “Don’t half ass it. We owe her that much.”

My heart sank at the thought of revising the memory. But he was right, of course. Besides, revisiting the memory was the one way to make sure the details never faded. As jagged and painful as those details were.

“We were on the outskirts of Tafilah,” I began slowly. “Our squad was tasked with protecting a high-level target: some worthless civilian VIP, who’d gotten himself into a shit ton of trouble. Of course, his trouble became our trouble. But we were Marines. That was the job.”

Bishop nodded curtly. Knowing he’d been there made it an easier story to tell.

“Our group got pincered, and we ended up in a mountain stronghold, surrounded by rebel fighters. Luckily, we had specialists who rigged the place with defensive ordinance; Rangers, recon scouts, even SEALs, who’d dropped in. The whole thing was JSOC from the beginning. Highly specialized, and—”

“Don’t confuse her with all the jargon,” Bishop warned.

“—andsterilized,” I finished.

Jocelyn squinted against the wind. “Sterilized?”

“Sterilized meaning classified to the highest degree,” Bishop stepped in. “As in nobody knows we’re there, because we’re not supposed tobethere. So if anything happens…”

“You weren’t there.”

Bishop folded his arms and nodded.

“But youwerethere,” Jocelyn went on. “And then something happened. Something… bad.”

I lowered my chin for a moment. When I looked up again, the snarl on Bishop’s face mirrored mine.

“Tell me,” Jocelyn urged. Her voice was gentle now. All the anger and accusation was gone from it. “Please.”

“There was a double-cross,” I sighed. “Blight was there too, and we were glad to have them. But they were so far up the VIP’s ass, they’d given him command authorization. Turns out they were in bed with him, and we didn’t know it. He decided to bug out in the middle of the night, without telling any of us, and when the rebels took a shot at him, he triggered every one of the explosives to create a decoy.”

“Shit,” Jocelyn murmured softly.

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