Page 149 of Bishop

“Cut me some slack, Bree. I’m not the enemy.”

“Well, you’re proving not to be an ally either. The first and only priority here is my daughter. Yet when you received information that could lead to her whereabouts, you kept it from me.”

“No, I came outside to talk to you about it even though Bishop wanted to walk out the front door and track Geppet down as soon as he got the call. I’m the one that told him you needed to decide what happens. I just didn’t want to dive face-fucking-first into strategy talk when I haven’t held a proper conversation with you in more than a goddamn decade.”

Bishop led the betrayal?

Any lingering hesitation I had about meeting with Geppet behind their backs is gone. Poof. Vanished.

These people are managing me, while Geppet was telling the truth.

I shoot a glare at the main perpetrator over my shoulder, finding him still standing on the porch near a seated Lorenzo. “Did Bishop explain why he wanted to keep this from me?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Matthew mutters as if understanding the shit he’s put his friend in. “I think he just had a one-track mind to get in the car and find Geppet as soon as possible.”

“We all want to bring your daughter home, Abri.” Salvatore places a hand on my upper arm.

I shrug him off. “Don’t.”

“I’m not trying to make this harder on you. I just want you to know that none of us will stop until we get her back. That’s all that matters to any of us. It’ll be our entire focus until—”

“Stop.” His assumption stabs through my ribs, the pointy tip puncturing my heart.

“What’s going on?” Bishop’s shout carries from the house.

Jesus Christ, not now.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” I pin Matthew with an unflinching scowl. “I’m going to leave here—”

“Fucking hell,” Salvatore mutters. I pause, assuming he’s cursing my plan to hightail it out of here when he follows it up with, “Why is this fucker still here?”

“What’s wrong?” Bishop asks from close behind me.

I turn to face him. “You. You’re what’s wrong. You found out Geppet and my mother parted ways and decided to keep it from me.”

His gaze travels to Matthew in lethal judgment. “Snitches should still worry about getting stitches even when they’re already peppered with bullets.”

Matthew rolls his eyes.

“I don’t have patience for your banter.” I step in front of Bishop. “You should’ve told me the minute you found out. I should’ve been the first person you told. Not my estranged brother. Not my uncle. Or whoever else you’ve mentioned it to between now and then. But me. The mother of the child that’s lost. The one who should be calling the shots.”

He straightens his shoulders. “I wanted to figure out the best course of action first.”

“That’s my job.”

“I strongly disagree.”

“You’re not going after Geppet, Bishop. I will be the one speaking to him. I will be the only person to extract whatever information he has.”

“My tactics are more effective,” he snarls.

“Your tactics will get him killed, and I’m not going to risk that happening when we have no clue how much he knows. You have no restraint.”

His jaw ticks. “You’re the only one to tamper with said restraint, belladonna. I assure you I’m the best person to handle this.”

“Okay, then tell me how many men you’ve successfully extracted information from without ending their life afterward.”

His lethal stare hardens as Lorenzo hobbles down the porch steps toward us.

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