Page 68 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

“Yeah, well, you still got us run out of town,” Morris lamented. “Slept in the hills for six days. Nothing to eat but dehydrated beef, smeared over stale flatbread.”

“There were rabbits,” I countered.

“Fuck you, Delaney,” Morris spat again. His body language took on a dangerous edge. “Every joint operation involving your squad went to complete shit. Including… well…”

He didn’t have to say it. I didn’t have to remind him, either.

“That whole situation was fucked,” Morris admitted. His expression softened a little, at the recollection. “And for once, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Neither is this,” I shot back. “I snuck in here as a chef, just to get a word with your boss.”

“You can’t cook!” he scoffed.

“Of course not. But I’m good at other things, and you know it.”

Morris looked me over again, this time slightly less skeptically. Maybe I wouldn’t have to break his neck after all.

“A job, eh?”

I shrugged. “Blight’s got the work. I’ve got the skills.”

“You also have beef with Roman. Even worse, he knows it.” He scratched at his tattooed neck and shook his head. “Shit, I can’t believe you got in here using your actual name.”

“Giving my real name was the only way I could be properly vetted,” I pointed out. “But as usual, your men missed the details. They’re too sloppy.”

He looked up again, wanting to argue. We both knew he couldn’t.

“You could use a guy like me,” I finished. “Blight’s been cutting corners and you know it.”

Morris let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m definitely not happy about it,” he snapped. “The way things are, it’s just… well…”

He let the sentence go unfinished, and I didn’t push. I could see the wheels already turning in his head.

“It wasn’t always like this,” he murmured. “You know it wasn’t.”

“Thendosomething, Morris.”

We’d spent time in the field together, he and I, but it was always tangential. Morris was a mercenary, and I a soldier. Forthat reason, our relationship had always been strictly business. I knew enough of him to know he was a good warrior, though. And beneath that, a good man.

“Don’t mess with Roman tonight,” he said, jabbing a finger into my chest. “This meeting is too important. When this whole thing is over, we’ll talk again.”

“Alright,” I conceded.

“Maybe…maybeI can put in a word,” he said awkwardly. “But if you think for one minute that means—”

Abruptly he stopped, and his ears perked up. I saw his gaze shift a little, to an invisible point just over my shoulder.

Someone was coming.

This was it: the breaking point. The point at which Morris stepped aside, or I dragged him into an alcove in a rear naked choke.

“Get the hell out of here, fast,” he hissed, jerking his chin in the direction I’d been going. “Before I forget I found you somewhere other than in the kitchen.”

~ 40 ~

JOCELYN

The arrival of Roman Wynter came as a complete shock to everyone but us. He stormed into the manor flanked by two men; one of them being the pilot, the other being Morris, the guy with the neck tattoo that I’d seen before.

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