Page 82 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

~ 49 ~

KAYDEN

The friend we sent away after high school wasn’t the same one we got back. On the surface, I could see how it might’ve seemed that way. Bishop was Bishop, through and through. He was fun, funny, the usual pain in the ass.

Except during the times when he wasn’t.

Jason didn’t see it as much as I did, but maybe he wasn’t looking hard enough. Bishop came back from Paris Island with all new layers of muscle and a shit-eating grin, but with each successive deployment, he left a tiny piece of himself behind. The changes were small, at first. An introspective moment here and there. A slight delay to his laughter, when everyone else was so easily cracking up. I saw these things and I noted them, while everyone else was clapping him on the back and buying him beers.

But there were darker times, too. Times when my friend would stare off into the distance, or just look at something for way too long. During those times I would leave him alone, knowing that whatever he was looking at was half a world away. But once in a while I’d ask him questions about his time overseas. Sometimes he would even answer.

And then, of course, there were the dreams.

Bishop stayed with me often between some of his deployments, and he slept fitfully at best. At first I thought itwas the uncomfortable couch I’d held onto for way too long, but even after I set up a bed in the guest room he was still talking, walking, even crying out in his sleep.

One night in particular, the nightmares were too much for him. I found Bishop in the corner of my living room, punching holes in the sheetrock, asleep on his feet. I made the mistake of waking him up, and ended up with a broken jaw from my efforts. When he came to, crying and apologizing, I made him tell me just what the hell was wrong.

That’s when he sat me down, and told meeverything.

It was hard to imagine; a situation that would rattle even someone like Bishop. But everything he said struck a special chord with me. He told me about Blight, and the VIP named Roman Wynter that his squad had been tasked to protect. I learned of his betrayal, and the needless deaths of their comrades. The depth to which it affected Bishop was something I could totally understand. The story enraged me. I, myself, wanted vengeance for him.

And that’s when he told me I could actually help in that regard.

Things happened fast after that. I was introduced to Andre, and welcomed into their fold. I learned everything there was to know about Blight; its history, its motives, its current standing in regards to the world. They explained how the three leaders never met in person, except during very specific times, in confined, well-guarded places.

It took a few years to crack Blight’s radar; to get involved to the point where my name became subtly known to them. Luckily they were indulgent by nature. They spared no expense during their meetings, and employed only the most talented chefs. Few stayed on long when it came to catering to theirneeds, however. Some, as Bishop and Andre explained to me grimly, even disappeared altogether.

In the meantime I moved in with the two of them, and they taught me some of their military skill set. I would never compare to the level of training they’d received in the Marines, but eventually I could run, climb, hide, and shoot. We lived at the rifle range for months at a time, and I learned a variety of weapons I hoped I’d never have to use. During our down time, I taught them how to cook. As my sous chef and pastry chef, they would need certain rudimentary skills that would allow them to pass casual scrutiny. I was bringing them in solely based on my own reputation. The last thing we needed was for Blight to dig even deeper; when it came to who they actually were.

Two days. It seemed ludicrous, but everything we’d done, all of our time and effort, it all came down to these two crucial days during which we hoped to lure Roman Wynter into the open, and bring him down. I was willing to put my life on the line for these two days. To destroy a man I’d never heard of, or even met before.

But this was for Bishop, and Bishop was my brother.

Since I’d joined up with them, his nightmares had practically ceased. He was happy, funny, pain-in-the-ass Bishop again, only we’d grown even closer, living in such tight quarters.

When we got the call from Jason, we almost didn’t take it. When we found out Jocelyn was not only in Greece but just a few short miles away, we almost refused his request to take her out, too.

But the dinner was almost a week away, and she was still reeling from a very rotten situation. Taking her out and cheering her up seemed like a no-brainer. Especially since we were both secretly into her, and hadn’t seen her in so very long.

My mind raced through all these things as I bolted from the kitchen, dropping everything at once. I’d heard the fighting, the scuffling, the gunshots echoing in from the dining room. But more important than any of those things, I thought I’d heard Jocelyn scream.

Out in the empty hallway, the sound of something loud and metallic reached my ears. I followed the noise and flew into the library, not knowing what to expect. Jocelyn and Joe were there, resting amidst a pile of shattered furniture. The last thing I expected however was Evelyn, sprawled out and snoring, in the middle of the floor.

~ 50 ~

JOCELYN

“What the hellhappened?” cried Kayden.

“Your girlfriend happened,” I sighed wearily. “That’s what.”

He looked down at the crumpled form of Evelyn. Right on time, she snorted.

“She’snotmy girlfriend,” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Better tell her that,” Joe smirked, jerking his shadow-stubbled chin at sleeping beauty. “I came in here to find her biting and scratching. And for what? It’s not exactly like you’re a catch.”

Kayden ignored him. He saw the red streaks running down my arm, and his eyes went wide.

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