Page 204 of Bishop

“In time I will only resent you more.” I hold his stare and coldcock Adena across the side of the face, making her drop to her hands and knees with a cry. “At least now the anger will be reciprocated.”

He scowls at me, nostrils flaring, fury bubbling.

I storm for the house, hauling myself up the porch stairs by the railing, careful of the vertigo fucking with my head and giving me shitty balance as I lean over the dead guy with the head-shot and drag him inside the front door.

I dump him in the hall and continue toward an open archway beaming with light, a pink bunny laying on the floor in front of me, blood splatter covering its fur. Tilly must have dropped it.

Poor fucking kid. A lifetime of nightmares awaits her, half of them no doubt inspired by the shit show currently known as my face.

I leave the bunny and continue into the living room, not surprised by the carnage greeting me.

Two bodies. A man and woman. Both Caucasian. Roughly in their mid-thirties.

The female is face-down on the floor a few feet in front of me, a stream of crimson trailed along the cream carpet behind her as if she attempted to crawl for help.

The male is on the sofa, head lulled back, blindly staring at the ceiling. Mouth wide. Skin pale.

Nothing else seems to be touched.

The muted television plays in the corner, some kid’s cartoon flashing across the screen.

Family pictures hang on the walls. Bright smiles and affectionate embraces. Infant artwork is framed alongside the images, the paintings treated like precious mementos. That little girl was loved by these people. Adored.

Fucking Adena Costa.

I walk to the woman and kneel beside her, flipping her onto her back. “If Abri were here, I know she’d thank you for raising her daughter.” I pull a blade from my pocket and dig into the wound on her abdomen, retrieving the bullet that killed her. “Here’s hoping you’re in a better place.”

I stand and perform the same ritual with the male. Pay respects on behalf of Abri. Retrieve the bullet from his chest. Then stand to enter the kitchen.

I turn on the gas stove, all four burners hissing to life as claret drips down my cheek.

I don’t have the time to properly cover up this bloodbath. The house might not burn completely before the fire brigade arrives. The bodies may only get charred not cremated. But heavy-handed payments to certain government officials will get this case labelled as an accidental house fire.

Not that it’s my ass on the line.

I’m doing this for Abri.

For her daughter, who doesn’t deserve to live with the guilt that could come from finding out her existence was the cause of these people dying.

Hopefully her little kiddie brain will enable some of those useful defense mechanisms and block tonight’s events from her memory. And if it does, I want Abri to have the choice of deciding whether or not her child knows how her life started.

I search through the drawers, scattering utensils and silverware. I don’t stop until I find an old-school box of matches.

I snatch the candle from the wooden dining table and walk back through the slaughter scene, lighting the wick and leaving the flickering torch on the TV cabinet to buy some time before detonation.

Then I make for the front door, picking up the blood-splattered bunny as I pass.

Adena is already on her feet when I reach the porch, her arms held behind her back by Remy, a gun trained on her by Salvatore.

“I’m done,” I say as I descend the stairs, my scowl directed at Lorenzo. “Don’t call. Don’t text. Don’t even think about me, old man. Until that bitch is dead, you can act like I’m the same.”

He raises his chin. “You will forgive me, figlio. You will understand my decision in time.”

“Fuck that.” I continue across the yard toward the drive. “Lose my number. And get the hell out of here before the place blows.”

Salvatore mutters a curse while I storm for the road, not slowing my approach toward Abri’s car until she comes into view, the front passenger seat slightly reclined as she cuddles her daughter to her chest.

They look good together—her daughter’s cheek resting on her shoulder, Abri’s chin leaning against Tilly’s head. And that sound…

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