Page 140 of Bishop

“Perfecting our synchronized swimming. Now drop it.” She stalks down the hall, leaving me alone with a death sentence.

He watches her, the theme song to every third act climactic scene playing in my head as I rest my shoulder against the doorframe. He keeps staring after she’s gone, letting the anticipation build like a drama queen until the back door slams and the house turns deathly quiet.

“Synchronized swimming?” He glares.

“She has panic attacks.”

He scoffs. “Panic attacks my fucking ass.” He plants his hands on the floor beside his hips and winces as he attempts to get up. “It didn’t sound like a motherfucking attack to me, you piece of shit.”

I step forward, reaching out to help him to his feet. “Where do you want to do this?”

It’s obvious we’re about to get this out in the open. I’m surprised he hasn’t already pulled his gun for a little dramatic flair.

“Bedroom.” He slaps away my hand and shuffles around me to enter the room. “I need to lie the fuck down.”

He continues to the bed as I attempt to close the door but the broken latch has it swinging back open.

“Leave it,” he growls. “Everyone else is outside. They weren’t as enthusiastic to listen to your synchronized swimming as I was.”

“Don’t go assuming things that will get you in trouble, Langston. You’re not in the shape to be pissing me off right now.”

He huffs a sardonic laugh. “If I was, you’d be in a headlock with my gun against your temple. So bear that in mind as we have this little chat. I’ll be back on my feet soon enough.” He climbs onto the bed, his face pinched as he reclines against the pillows. “We’re going to try this one more time. And if you lie to me again—”

“I haven’t lied to you.”

“So you’re sticking to the story that you haven’t fucked her?”

I raise my chin. “One hundred percent.”

“I guess we’re playing your word games then—no lies but a million hidden truths.” He scrutinizes me, his eyes narrowed. “You may not be fucking her, but something is going on.”

I keep my mouth shut, unable to answer even if I wanted to. I have no idea what the hell is happening between me and his sister. One minute she’s all over me, the next I’m waiting for her to slit my throat.

“Has she been sleeping in your bed?” he grates.

I remain silent, the quiet my condemnation as I stalk to the window, finding Abri seated on a bench almost overgrown by lawn.

Her hair shines in the sunlight, illuminating her like some fucking ethereal goddess. She meets my gaze from under her lashes—no emotion, no recognition, just deep blue irises that whisper to my soul.

“Have you touched her, you piece of shit?”

I grind my teeth. This asshole might be the brother I never had, but he’d want to stop throwing stones through this glass house of ours.

“Well, motherfucker?” he snaps.

My anger spikes, and I swing back to face him. “I’m a motherfucker?” I stab a finger at my chest. “Me? The one that’s been by her side since the moment she cried for help?”

He bristles. “You offered—”

“What else was I going to do? You had family business with Lorenzo. And nobody else raised their goddamn hand.” I shove my clenched fists into my pockets. “It was supposed to be a few hours of babysitting. I was never meant to be at that fucking gala. You should’ve taken over before this shit got complicated.”

“Well, excuse me for getting shot. I didn’t anticipate my father attempting to kill me.”

“None of us anticipated any of this. I had as much control over my situation as you did over yours.”

“You had fucking control over my sister being in your bed.”

“Did I?” I storm closer, ready to pull him off the mattress like a rag doll. “How the fuck would you know when you haven’t questioned why she was in my bed in the first place? Ask me how the fuck she got there, Langston. Ask me why. Because you sure as hell know me well enough to understand I’d never intentionally go out of my way to fuck around with your sister.”

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