Page 191 of Bishop

“Meaning they’ll dispose of his body?”

He starts across the room toward the door. “Yes, Abri.”

“Wait.” I hustle after him, hating the sterility he’s directing at me as I slide my feet into my high heels. “I need to use the bathroom.”

What I really need are a few seconds to regain my equilibrium. To take a breath and rationalize why his cold demeanor should mean nothing in this whole fucked up scheme.

He stops near the open door. “Do you want me to help you find it?”

Although he asks in kindness, I can see how he’s praying for me to decline the offer. He needs space as much as I do.

“No,” I murmur. “I won’t be long.”

He inclines his head. “I’ll stay here until you’re done.”

I take the opportunity to escape down the hall, finding the dilapidated bathroom easily. I use the facilities, because a UTI is the last thing I need, then wash my hands in the basin, refusing to meet my gaze in the mirror.

I’ve done a lot of horrible things over the years, but not once have I had an issue staring at my own reflection. Until now. Until after I seduced an abstinent man into sleeping with me moments after he finished saving my life.

“You okay in there?” Bishop calls in the distance.

“Yeah. Give me a sec.” I drag in a deep breath and force myself to stand tall. Tilly is all that matters. Everything else means nothing. At least until she’s safe.

I return down the hall, not making eye contact with Bishop who waits in the doorway as I quickly divert into the living room to grab my clutch and all the scattered items off the floor. But I follow his instructions and keep my gaze from Geppet, only pausing for a moment to stare at the asshole’s blood-soaked shoes. “I hope you enjoy dancing with the devil.”

I walk to Bishop, who leads the way onto the porch toward the three men waiting in the dark. They’re crowding the few steps to the yard where Remy stands, leaning against Geppet’s pickup while Salvatore paces in front of him.

Were they all here this whole time? Through the torture? During the sex?

I guess that explains why Bishop wasn’t concerned about Geppet fleeing when he first arrived.

“Dispose of the body and torch the house,” Bishop instructs the men as he approaches. “But don’t lose my knives. I want them back.”

The bald man in front jerks his chin, the moonlight gleaming off his head. “Do you want the body to be found?”

“No. Make him disappear. I want Adena thinking he’s still alive to spill her secrets.”

The men move aside as we descend the stairs.

I give an awkward smile of greeting as I pass, wishing their first impressions of me weren’t moans of pleasure from a murdered man’s kitchen.

Salvatore storms up to us, stopping an inch in front of Bishop, his face scrunched with fury. “You slimy prick. You tell your men to keep us outside, then make us wait while you fuck our sister?”

Jesus Christ. I look away, unwilling to risk eye contact.

“You were warned that what I was doing wasn’t fit for public consumption.” Bishop grows taller with the straightening of his posture. “You shouldn’t have snooped.”

“You think I would’ve chanced glancing through that window if I’d known what you were doing, motherfucker?”

“Sister fucker,” Remy corrects.

I clear my throat to stop a groan escaping.

“She’s hurt, by the way,” Bishop snarls. “Not that her wellbeing ever seems high on your list of priorities.”

Remy pushes from the pickup. “Geppet hurt you?”

“What the fuck did he do?” Salvatore turns to me.

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