Page 192 of Bishop

“I’m fine.” I focus on my Aston Martin parked on the road. Bishop must’ve put the tire back on and driven it from the safe house.

“Like hell you are.” Salvo reaches for my jaw. “What happened to your face?”

I slap his hand away. “It’s nothing.”

“I’m serious,” he warns. “Did Geppet hit you?”

“I’m fine,” I repeat.

“He kicked her in the stomach, too.” Bishop crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s going to be sore tom—”

“That fucking piece of shit.” Salvatore glares toward the house. “I’m going to—”

“Sit on your ass and do absolutely nothing,” Bishop drawls. “Unless you plan on giving a few swift uppercuts to a warm corpse with those girlie hands of yours.”

Salvatore’s lips curve in a vicious smile. “That’s not an appropriate way to speak to your future boss.”

Bishop stiffens. “You need to earn respect before you claim that title. And you haven’t acquired any of mine. Following us to Hudson to help find your niece would be a good start.”

“You act as if I wouldn’t do everything I could to support my goddamn fucking sister.”

“Probably because it’s hard to imagine, seeing as though you did everything you could to ignore her suffering.”

“Stop.” I wince, turning pained eyes to Bishop. “That’s enough. Both of you. We don’t have time for this.”

“Time didn’t seem to be an issue while you two were fucking,” Salvatore mutters.

“In her defense, it’s not like the big guy took very long.” Remy shoves his hands into his pockets, feigning innocence. “Seemed to me that he was trying to break a time trial.”

The men on the porch snicker. Bishop snarls.

I sigh, the dwindling adrenaline making way for exhaustion. “I’m going to do this on my own if all of you can’t grow up.” I head toward my car, but the sound of an approaching vehicle has me pausing in the drive.

I glance over my shoulder, eyeing Bishop to gauge whether the noise could be an oncoming threat as the advancing headlights brighten the road.

“Come here, belladonna.” He beckons me back to him. “It should be Lorenzo and his driver, but I’m not taking any chances.”

We meet in a few short steps, his large frame gliding in front of mine to block my body from the road as a black SUV pulls up, the passenger side window descending.

My uncle’s face comes into view, the wrinkles of age heavier than they were this morning. “What’s the update?”

“Geppet’s been dealt with, and we have the location of Abri’s daughter. There’s word Adena could be preparing to take her out of the country.” Bishop turns to me, placing a hand on the low of my back, directing me to continue toward my car. “We’re going there now.”

Lorenzo nods. “I’ll follow.”

“No. Follow them.” Bishop jerks his head at my brothers. “I’ll text the address. But all of you need to stay out of sight. I don’t want to see even a glimmer of a fucking headlight. Do you hear me?”

Nobody bothers to answer as I reach my passenger door and climb inside.

There are more murmurs of conversation. A subdued argument maybe.

But in seconds Bishop climbs in behind the wheel, starts the ignition, and takes off down the road, silently tapping the Hudson address into the GPS.

I itch to talk about what happened. All of it. The things Geppet said. The things he did. And everything that happened afterward.

Instead, I clasp my hands in my lap and squeeze my fingers until they ache.

Bishop doesn’t want to talk. He probably doesn’t even want to be in this car with me. I need to be thankful he’s still by my side.

---