Page 40 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

“Den, Baby J!” His voice travels to me from the left.

I make my way to the other room where I find Nicky and the boys. Rico and JP are sitting on the couch while Tommy’s sprawled out on the oversized recliner. Nicky stands in the center of the room, hands thrust in his pockets as his leg bounces a million miles a minute. He stares off into the corner, lost deep in thought.

“Nick?” I ask as I enter the room. His head snaps over to me. “What’s going on?”

“We got a problem, J.”

Fuck.

“A problem?” I ask, my question coming out cautious.

Nicky nods. “We’ve been doing runs with the distributors these last few weeks. We’re not bringing in the full shipments yet, but final test runs. We had one scheduled for late last night. Somebody intercepted it before it got to the drop.”

I stare at him, my brow twisting in confusion as I try to work out who would be stupid enough to fuck with Nicky’s business. “What do you mean someone intercepted it? You got competition moving in?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Reports coming in are telling me it’s Bishop.”

My heart bottoms out in my stomach. There’s no way Mav hit Nicky’s shipment last night. I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt because his face was firmly situated between my thighs for most of the night. However, I can’t tell Nicky that. My brain spirals, trying to find the best method of approach.

“That doesn’t seem like Bishop, Nick. You guys have coexisted for years. That’s pretty uncharacteristic of him if you ask me. Besides, didn’t he recently buy real estate? A nightclub or something?” I feign ignorance.

“He did.” Nicky nods. “Word on the street is Bishop’s making plays to go legit. Which would make sense why he hasn’t called Parley to discuss my moves into new territories.”

“Or maybe,” Tommy begins, “he hasn’t called Parley because he always planned on overthrowing you.”

“That seems like a big assumption to make with no evidence to support it.” My façade slips momentarily as I pin him with a glare.

“You’re too naive, J. You don’t know what people like Maverick Bishop are capable of,” Tommy patronizes me, and I have to bite my cheek to the point of drawing blood in order to prevent myself from telling him I know more about Maverick Bishop than anyone on the fucking planet. Everything from his gun run schedules right down to what his face looks like while he’s coming inside me.

“You willing to start a war and risk our safety over those hunches, Tommy?” I seethe. “Because I’m not. Not without proof at least.”

I agree,” Nicky nods. “That’s why I’m gonna look into it. I’m not about to go breaking treaties without proof, but I’ve got some seriously pissed off suppliers at the moment who are demanding answers so, in the meantime, we gotta tighten up. It’s either school, here, or Daphne’s, okay? But no more sleepovers. Not until I know who’s making moves against me. You understand?”

I nod slowly. While my heart pains at the thought of not seeing Mav as frequently, I know if there’s someone trying to move in on Nicky’s territory, then he’s right; it’s not safe to be out and about right now.

“I thought it’d be nice for all of us to do dinner slash movie night here at the house tonight,” Nicky poses to me with a halfhearted smile. “We can order Gino’s? You can invite Daph.”

“Yeah,” I force a smile. “Yeah, sounds good, Nick. I’ll go call her now.”

He nods in agreement as I retreat toward the foyer and ascend stairs to my room. Shutting myself inside, I dial the number I’ve come to memorize so well I could relay it in my sleep. Four months ago, Mav made it clear that one of the most important boundaries in ensuring our relationship worked would be forbidding discussions surrounding rival business.

But I don’t have that luxury anymore. Today, I have to break that rule.

Mav picks up on the first ring. “Hey, baby. I can’t talk too long. I’m almost at the drop. What’s up?”

“Mav, I need you to pull over for a second. We have a problem.”

CHAPTER 21

MAV

We’re about forty minutes outside the city when Bentley’s intentional throat-clearing garners my attention.

“Spit it out, Bent.” My gaze shifts to my phone where I scroll through emails from the interior designer we hired for the club.

I can tell he’s had something on his mind since we left the house, and honestly, it’s had me on edge. I’m just waiting for him to lay into me about the tattoo. Sure, it’s a pretty grand gesture—tattooing her fucking portrait on me. But when she came home and showed me the bishop behind her ear, something primal overcame me.

She marked herself with my tag, branded herself so every man she encounters from that day forth will know she’s mine. I own her. And as hot as that is, I wanted her to own me too. So, first chance I got, I went and saw my boy to make it official.

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