Page 30 of Hostile Saint

“I’m confused,” I admitted.

Justice giggled. “Dagger, no one is as smart as me. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Then she said, “Hey, Nine Lives! What’s up?” In the background, on her end, typing on a keyboard could be heard.

“Hey, nice to meet you, Captain.”

“You, too, Pup.”

Dagger leaned his elbows to the higher part of the counter. “Cap, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Bite me, Daddy Dagger.” She kept typing.

Vice informed me, “She’s already researching you.”

Justice ignored us and went on to explain, “Okay, a quick rundown. There are two different theories that I know of. The ‘where your ancestors lived’ or ‘family genes’. Either way, Lynx and I are one-percenters, through-and-through, says the patch on our cuts and our grey eyes.”

Vice exclaimed, “In the whole world?”

“That’s right! Our ancestors are from northern Europe,” she admired. “Vikings. Hell yeah. So, that does support that theory, but I haven’t met anyone to break the other theory of family genes. Dad’s eyes were such a clear blue. That, supposedly, has to do with our ancestors from long, long ago, living through long winters and not needing as much melanin because they didn’t have as much sun. That is why he got beautiful children such as Lynx and myself.”

“It’s true.” Lynx batted his eyelashes. “We’re gorgeous.”

Dagger and Vice rolled theirs and complained, “Oh, dear lord.” And “Do you hear this?”

After chuckling, Justice asked, “Okay, Tate, what are your parents’ eye colors?”

“Both blue.”

“Hence why you have blue eyes.”

Impressed, I asked, “How’d ya know?”

“Lynx,” she teased, “you said the kid was sharp.”

Vice smacked the back of my head. “She just researched ya, dumbass. Don’t think she’s found your driver’s license by now?”

Way to show your lack of brain cells, Tate.

Justice continued, “Traits, genes go off of what parents offer their children in eye colors. What color are your brothers’ eyes?”

“Both blue.”

“There ya go. Your father could totally be their dad, then.” As if it was challenging to not share information because gathering it was her thing, she mumbled, “Only eight to ten percent of the world have blue eyes, by the way.”

Lacey… “What about hazel?”

Justice answered, “Approximately five percent. What color are Lacey’s parents’ eyes?”

I appreciated Justice already knowing who I was asking about. “Blue and green.”

“Yeah, see? That makes sense, also—Hold on.” She was suddenly talking to someone else as if they were looking for her. “I’m in the Stalls!” I heard a door open and her say, “Need me?”

A man’s voice said, “Sorry, Captain. Some snooty bitch at the garage is complaining about the work we did on her car. Rattler is about to blow. Intervention time. Stat.”

“My work is never done, y’all. I gotta roll. Bro, still no hurry?”

Lynx told his sister, “Nah, we have time. Tate has to make a girl fall in love with him.”

Vice told Justice, “That’s gonna take more than a minute.”