Page 172 of Bishop

There’s too much riding on this to falter now.

I have to inform my brothers of the change in location. Or do I? Maybe it’s better if they don’t follow. If they can’t eavesdrop from nearby as I try to worm my way out of scraping the bottom of the barrel with Geppet.

“Give me a minute to freshen up.” I slide from the booth, my clutch tight in my hand, only to have my wrist captured in his grip.

“Leave your phone,” he states.

Those warning bells scream louder.

He doesn’t trust me. And if he’s smart enough not to trust me, he should be smart enough not to put his life on the line for a quick fuck. So he’s either gloriously stupid or inching that trap closer. I can’t tell which.

“Excuse me?” I frown, playing into the confusion.

He jerks his chin at my clutch. “I know you have one in there. Leave it on the table.”

“Sure.” I wait for him to release his hold, then slowly pull out my phone. “But it’s concerning that you don’t have faith in me, Aaron. You realize I have nobody else, right? My brothers went behind my back, my father is gone, and my mother holds me responsible. You know I have no friends. There’s no other family I can trust.”

He gives a smug smile. “Yeah, but I also know you’re resourceful. I’m just covering my ass.”

“If that’s what’s needed.” I place my cell on the table. He can’t access anything without my facial recognition anyway. But it means I can’t text my brothers with an update. “After knowing each other this long I would’ve hoped you could trust me.” I pause, hoping he’ll change his mind.

He doesn’t.

“But I understand.” I back away, holding in a string of curses. “I won’t be long.”

I turn on my heels and make my way toward the bathroom sign in the far back corner pointing its way to the dim hall.

Bishop said I’d never have to use my body like this again. That no man would ever touch me. I guess a tiny part of me wanted to believe it was true because the self-loathing crawling over my skin has never felt so slimy.

And the worst part is that Geppet’s touch will take away the only real pleasure I’ve had with a man. His hands will ruin the bliss Bishop’s created.

I enter the hall, past the noisy entry to the kitchen, then shove into the ladies bathroom.

I expect panic to rain down on me as soon as I’m alone. But it doesn’t hit.

There’s only cold resignation. The tired realization that this is who I’m meant to be even when my father’s no longer around to force my hand.

I drag my feet into a stall, lock myself inside, then breathe through the hollowness taking over my body as I wish with every ounce of my being that I was someone else.

Someone honorable.

Someone worthy.

Someone who didn’t have to be a conniving, manipulative bitch.

The bathroom door swings open with a squeak and I tense, wondering if Geppet was paranoid enough to follow me in here.

Footsteps trek across the tile. Water runs from the faucet. Someone washes their hands.

I relax, exhaling with a barely audible sigh.

Come on, Abri. You’ve got this.

I’m so close to Tilly I can feel her. With a few perfectly phrased lines to Geppet and an inviting touch here and there, he’ll tell me what I need. I’m sure he will. I can get the information without having to sleep with him.

The water cuts off. Footsteps trek back across the bathroom. The door swings open again. Then there’s silence.

I’m alone.

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