Page 75 of Bishop

Then he sighs. “I need you to tell me what’s going on with Abri.”

“I already told you I can’t.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Langston? Did you hear me?”

“I heard,” he mutters. “I’m just trying to determine why you’ve become loyal to my sister overnight, and if the reason demands castration.”

“I haven’t touched your goddamn sister.” Yet. “In fact, she’s currently inside making me a salad for dinner. Does that sound like the type of woman I’d want to fuck?” My gaze finds her through the windows as she places cutlery on the dining table, her attention turning to the yard as if she senses me watching.

“I’ve only ever known your type to be those who seek payment for their services. But that doesn’t mean things can’t change.”

“I haven’t fucked her.” I’ve thought about it. Dreamt about it. Goddamn salivated over it.

“But suddenly you’re team Abri instead of dead against the woman who drives the crazy train?”

“She put the crazy into perspective.” I turn my back to the house and stare at the darkened hills. “Her behavior is justified.”

“Jesus Christ, Bishop. You’re starting to worry me. But that was the intent, right?”

“Like I said, this shit is serious.”

“You can’t bring her to me? Tell her there’s a threat and you need to change location. Get her on a jet and head this way. I’ll have some of Lorenzo’s men waiting at the airport.”

It’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I could sedate her again. Could force her against her will.

He huffs a tired breath. “You’re not going to do that either, are you?”

He knows me. Knows what I’m capable of. Denying him says too fucking much, but I can’t bring myself to add to her trauma.

I take one last inhale of my cigarette, burning the paper to the filter, then flick it to the ground. “She’s been through enough.”

“Fuck… Fine… Give me a few days. I’ll fly there as soon as I’m upright.”

“It might be an idea to bring Lorenzo, too. It’s time she got to know the benefits of having him as her uncle.”

“I’ll get it organized. Just make sure you keep her close until then.”

I clench my teeth. Proximity is the last thing I want to commit to. But the call disconnects and I return the cell to my pocket.

I stamp the smoldering cigarette butt with my shoe and grab the beer bottle at my feet before walking for the house.

Her eyes meet mine as soon as I step inside the open living area. I look away, not having any patience for her shit, playful or otherwise.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I leave my empty bottle on the table as I pass, then continue toward the hall. “I need to take a piss.”

“Charming.” There’s humor in her voice. “Dinner will be in five.”

I keep walking, not needing the bathroom break. The only thing necessary at the moment is distance.

I hide in the bathroom.

I hide. In the fucking bathroom.

Me—a man with a moniker that strikes fear into the hearts of grown men.

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