Page 40 of Brother's Keeper

“I took care of him.” Jette indicated me. “Now what?”

I closed both eyes again and stayed as still as possible. Not a difficult task with every pain receptor in my body screaming.

“Is he dead?” York’s voice was a low rumble.

Jette sniffed. “Nah. Just napping.”

Bodies shifted and feet dragged across the floor, moving past where I lay.

“Where’s the other one?” York asked. “His brother?”

“Haven’t seen him,” Jette replied.

“Figures. Thought you could take us by yourself, huh?” York nudged me with his shoe. “Dumb son of a bitch.”

I imagined what I couldn’t see, piecing together subtle sounds with my mental image of the space. It must have been awkward scheming with the doorway wide open, but they didn’t seem concerned.

“What are we supposed to do with him?” Jette asked, bringing the conversation back around. “When he wakes up, he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Unless he doesn’t wake up.”

I tensed.

“You wanna kill him?” Jette asked.

“Sure.”

Quiet filled a long moment.

When Jette spoke again, she sounded reluctant. “That’s not what Jax said.”

York swayed, staying beside me so his leg bumped into my side. “Jax isn’t here, and he isn’t helping us figure out a way to keep a telekinetic whiz kid from grinding our bones to bake his bread. He’s a killer, J.”

“Yeah, well,” Jette muttered, “he takes a punch like a pussy.”

“Typical mental mage,” York said flippantly. “They’re all a bunch of glass cannons.”

It took all of my limited self-control not to stand up right then and give them both a piece of my mind. But we’d only covered the bare bones of what I needed to know and, as long as they kept talking, I needed to keep listening.

“Buncha what?” Jette asked.

York exhaled, long and loud. “Never mind. Look, as far as I see it, wehaveto kill him. He’s not as easy to store as the poisonous one.” He poked me with the toe of his boot again, and I fought the impulse to elbow him in the shin. This playing dead shit was for the birds.

“He can’t even be awake, or he’ll bring the fucking building down,” York continued. “Jax can have the brother. I’m sure he’ll come sniffing around soon enough.”

At that, my hands clenched. Suspecting they were gunning for Donovan was far different than hearing it out loud.

“So, who getshim, then?” Jette asked. “Bragging rights and all.”

Finally, York stepped away from me. “One tattoo’s as good as another. Doesn’t matter who it used to belong to.”

“Then you won’t mind me taking this one.”

Jette closed in, bringing a hand that cupped the back of my head. Fingers threaded through my hair, palming my skull like it was a basketball. When they started squeezing, the resulting pressure was something I couldn’t ignore.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I sputtered seconds beforethe fingertips burrowed into my brain.

I threw out both hands, one for each of the bumbling duo. York was an easy grab, standing aside and probably addled from the door assault. Jette was trickier despite having been caught off-guard. She kept her hold on my head and seemed more than capable of juicing it like a lemon.

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