Page 82 of The Gathering
Wait, that wasn’t the right term.
“Coming on line,” she said. “This thing is slower than molasses in the dead of winter.” She eyed him again, his thumbs flying over his phone. Who was he texting? Somebody serious, judging by his expression. Her gaze lowered again, and this time her mind dared to imagine all the wrong things.
“Got it?”
She jumped in her skin and shot her guilty eyeballs up, running into his handsome face so dark and angry looking. “Yes, I have it.”
He walked over and held out his hand for her phone. Confused, she gave it to him, not at all accomplished in her recent gadget study requirements. He typed something in her phone and handed it back to her. His phone rang and he pressed buttons, typing again then he put it in his back pocket.
“I have to go petite surh,” he said, usual kindness gone from his voice. “I’ll text you later.”
Her heart sank as she fought with her fears. “Okay,” she said, watching him gather his things. “I should apologize,” she said, not wanting him to leave angry with her.
“For what?” he asked, not looking at her.
“I was… childish. I shouldn’t have been so bossy. I do want to be your apprentice, and I hope you don’t call Sister Isla and tell her everything that happened.”
He was heading for her, and her heart banged her chest. “Do you need to keep my coat?”
She looked down. “Oh heavens, no, you need your coat!” She quickly put her phone in her apron pocket and removed it. “Thank you,” she said, giving it to him.
He quickly put it on and eyed her before returning to her personal space. “Turn,” he said, his warm fingers guiding her by the shoulders.
She didn’t resist.
His hands moved over her hair, and she gasped at realizing what he was doing. “You don’t need to do that,” she said, zero conviction in her voice.
“I know,” he said simply. “Only have time for one braid.”
“That’s perfect,” she assured, her nerves so worked up over everything that happened or almost happened.
“There.” He laid the braid over her chest then lowered to her ear and said softly,“Je ne suis pas fâché contre toi. Prie pour mes frères, s’il te plaît. Je t’appellerai ce soir et je te parlerai français jusqu’à ce que tu t’endormes, pour ma pénitence. Je te blâme pour ce qui est arrivé aujourd’hui. Tu étais irresistible.”
She sucked in a breath as his fingers settled softly on her shoulders.
“I said to you ‘I'm not angry with you. Please pray for my brothers. I will call you tonight and speak French to you until you fall asleep for my penance. I blame you for what happened today. You were irresistible.”
His fingers slowly slid off her, and she remained breathless with her eyes closed. She listened to his boots across the floor then the door opened and closed.
She finally breathed.
Big Fucking Bat-ties
“She’s gonna be okay,” Bishop announced to his brothers that filled the hall of the medical wing. “Handy’s here and he knows how to fix everything.”
“Is that who that was?” Spook asked.
“Oui,” Bishop said.
“Fucking wow,” Shank muttered. “From a ghost in a hand to a man of fuckingwar.”
“Speaking of hand, you see his?” Hurricane muttered in awe.
“Oui,” Bishop nodded. “I designed it.” He looked at all of them. “We need to discuss things. We’re running out of time so I can’t wait till we’re all gathered.”
“Tell us,” Nitro muttered as he came closer, his blood pinging inside Bishop’s.
“It’s a fucking list but I need it out of my head and I need as much help as I can get.”
