Page 2 of Bishop

What the hell is she up to? Or, more accurately, what the fuck are her and her piece-of-shit father trying to achieve tonight?

She unclasps her clutch to remove a tube of lipstick and I inch back against the wall, not needing to watch her prep the moneymaker. I attempt to distinguish the shifting sounds, the popping of her lips, the rummaging through her clutch, then an unmistakable fast and hard sniff.

Once…

Twice…

Great. I signed up for junkie detail, too.

Isn’t she just the most delightful goodie bag of surprises?

Fucking hell, Langston.

I knew my best friend’s sister had issues when I offered to keep an eye on her. But this shitshow of downfalls is growing beyond my tolerance. I’m tempted to storm in there and snatch whatever stupid shit she’s snorting up that pretty nose of hers. That’s what Langston would want. Yet when he’s MIA and copying his estranged sister’s habit of dodging my calls it’s only natural I take the opposite path to his preferences.

This should be his job. His annoyance.

I was only meant to watch out for her during the day. Langston was supposed to be here by now. He was meant to make the cross-country journey as soon as his meeting finished with my boss, who also happens to be his Uncle Lorenzo. But I guess the conversation of murdering your own father takes longer than I’d anticipated, because neither of those fuckers are keen to communicate.

Either that or they’re both dead, which I refuse to contemplate.

There’s another sniff. Another poke at my annoyance.

I shouldn’t give a shit that Abri’s dabbling in dangerous territory. Not my circus. Not my fucking monkey. But this shit irks me. Big time.

Langston will have to address her extracurriculars. He needs to tell the mistress of manipulation the most fundamental rule in this line of business—if you sell drugs, you never do drugs.

Unfortunately, that gem of advice is something most learn the hard way. I guess I was the lucky son of a bitch with a past that made me immune to those types of adult mistakes.

There’s more rummaging in her clutch. A click of the clasp. Then the tap of approaching heels.

I time my push from the wall, making sure to step into the path of the bathroom archway the moment she exits.

Right on cue, she collides into my chest with a thud and a gasp.

Her hands snap up to grab my arms for stability. Her clutch falls to the floor. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” Her frantic gaze raises to mine, the shocked, faux Bambi look blinking away in an instant as sheer loathing takes its place. “You.”

“Me.” I glower.

Sadly, this isn’t our first fairytale meet-cute.

I’ve been right beside Langston as he spied on his family for years. Yet it wasn’t until recently that we actually met—when I was in charge of looking after Langston’s woman and this witch helped her escape.

Abri didn’t score brownie points with me then. And she sure as shit hasn’t now after ignoring me all goddamn day.

But I’ve never been this close to her. Not where I can see the differing shades of blue in her eyes. The smooth flawlessness of her skin.

She truly is beautiful. An exquisitely mesmerizing dick trap.

“Why are you here?” She shoves at my chest in a pitiful attempt that makes her stumble backward.

“You wouldn’t have to ask if you answered your fucking phone.” I bend to grab her clutch and hand it over. “You wanted more security for tonight. So here I am.”

She snatches my offering. “No. I wanted Remy and Salvatore.”

“Well, lucky you. You got an upgrade.”

“I doubt it.” She shoves the clutch under her arm, holding it against her ribs. “Where are they?”

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