Page 18 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

“Consider it handled.” My voice comes out firm, ensuring she knows there’s no room for argument.

She nods, offering up an appreciative smile. Her gaze shifts down as she uses the corner of her flannel to wipe the blood from her hands before tilting her head back to me. “Anything on my face?”

I lift my hand, the back of my knuckles grazing her cheek as she leans into my touch. Her eyes slip closed, and I allow my fingers to extend out into her loose waves.

“Going soft on me already, Bishop?” A sly smirk plays on her lips.

The corner of my mouth tips up as my hand slips behind her head to grip a fistful of hair. I rip her head back, stepping into her space as I press my lips down into hers with bruising force. My tongue slips out, licking the seam of her lips which readily part to grant me access to her mouth. Her tongue swirls against mine, and it’s the most potent high I’ve ever experienced.

“I gotta go,” she hushes against my lips.

“What if I say no?” I nip at her, before allowing a genuine smile to creep across my face.

“Well,” she plants a final kiss before backing away, “then I have to cut you.” Reaching down, she pulls the blade from the douchebag’s shoulder, wiping it clean on his jeans before flipping it closed and tucking it back up into her bra. “And it would be a real shame to mark up that pretty face of yours.” She grips my chin to give it a slight shake before releasing me to head back toward the field. My fingers twitch as I fight the urge to reach out and rip her back into me.

“Sneakers, baby!” I call out, drawing her attention to the blood spatter that mars the bright white on her feet. Her babysitter’s gonna spot that shit in two seconds flat.

“Not my first rodeo, Mav!” she responds without looking back. She sidesteps a rotten tree trunk and jumps with both feet, landing with a splash in a decent sized mud puddle, effectively camouflaging any evidence of what transpired here.

“Motherfucking Queen,” I whisper to myself with a smile. Her figure continues to retreat until her silhouette has become one with the darkness.

“Shit, Mav,” Finn’s voice calls out from behind as he approaches. “Was that—”

“Yup,” Tristan interjects, as he flanks me on the right. “Yes, it was.”

Bentley undoubtedly filled them both in on our fight earlier in the week, so it’s not hard for them to deduce who she is.

T lets out a long sigh, his gaze taking in the crumpled heap in front of us before his eyes lift to mine. “So, is that why we didn’t tell Bent where we were going tonight? Because he would flip the fuck out?”

“No,” I respond coolly while pulling my phone from my pocket. “I didn’t tell Bent because he pissed me off this week, and he forgets his place.” I spin to head back the way I originally came, my fingers navigating the screen as I search for a specific contact. “And pick him up!” I call back over my shoulder. “I’m not done with him yet.”

I find the number I’m looking for and press dial. He picks up on the first ring.

“Maverick,” he answers.

“When I pay 10K for intel, I expect complete files,” I hiss into the phone.

“Excuse me?” Carmine sounds offended. Good. “The intel I gave you is extensive, and I did it in record time.”

“It’s missing medical files.”

“Her medical history is in there,” Carmine responds, his voice baring hints of annoyance. “Jesus, Maverick, my reports are so detailed her menstrual cycle is in there.”

“Not all of it. It’s missing an ER visit. Would have happened sometime in the last two years. Broken jaw, some cracked ribs.” My grip tightens around the phone, and I have to remind myself to fucking breathe. I don’t have all the details but judging by what happened tonight, I’m fairly certain there was more to that rumored incident than a beating… and God as my witness, there is no limit to the souls I will fucking slaughter depending on what I find.

The line is silent for a beat before he responds. “Maverick, she has connections. If those files didn’t come up in my search, it’s because someone buried them deep.”

“Then get your shovel out and start fucking digging. I expect a full report in seventy-two hours. Am I understood?” I emerge from the tree line onto the road where we left the truck.

“Yes,” Carmine replies, though I can tell he’s not thrilled with his current assignment.

I disconnect the call just as T and Finn exit the brush behind me dragging that piece of shit.

“Put him in the fucking trunk,” I instruct them, placing a cigarette between my lips. “I’m not washing blood out of the seats tonight.”

CHAPTER 11

JONSIE

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