Page 27 of Bishop

He sounds like shit. Real shit. Not every day run-of-the-mill fatigue, but bone-chilling, life-altering exhaustion. “What happened?”

“You first. From your messages it sounds like my sister has given you a run for your money.”

My annoyance reignites at the mere mention of that seductive belladonna. “She’s fucking crazy.”

He chuckles, half-hearted and weak.

“No, I mean it. That bitch doesn’t ride the crazy train—she fucking drives it. As it stands, I just woke up in the passenger seat of my rental, covered in a goddamn picnic blanket she must have thrown over my head, while I’m in some random garage. And all this is after she fucking sedated me.”

“Sedated? How the hell did she do that?”

I should’ve kept that part to myself. Being drugged by my own bag of goodies isn’t something I want made common knowledge. “The how doesn’t matter. It’s why the hell you weren’t here to deal with her yourself that had me calling every ten minutes. Tell me about the complication.”

“I’m not in the best shape to go into detail, but the short version is that the people we came to discuss were already here when we arrived.”

Emmanuel and Adena. Fuck.

I wipe a rough hand over my mouth. “And?”

“They weren’t alone.”

“Keep going,” I mutter.

“There was an exchange. Both parties sustained…inconveniences.”

I grind my teeth over the cryptic, non-incriminating lingo. “You specifically?”

“Me and the person I came to visit.”

Motherfucker. Lorenzo is hurt, too.

This never would’ve happened if I’d been there. “What type of inconveniences are we talking?” I keep wiping my palm over my face. Scrubbing. Punishing.

“Serious but temporary.”

Were they beaten? Stabbed? Shot? Goddamnit. I need to know.

I clench a fist, my fury increasing the dull throb in my skull. “Did your brothers set you—”

“They didn’t know,” he cuts me off.

“That’s seems awfully convenient, don’t you think?”

“They were just as blindsided as I was. I trust them. You need to do the same.”

No, I don’t. I’ll reserve my judgment for when they’ve earned it.

I grab my gun from the back of my waistband and slowly climb from the car, keeping my voice low. “Tell me more about these inconveniences.”

He falls quiet.

“Langston?” I hiss. “Don’t hold out on me.”

“That’s the last thing I want to do, but discretion is necessary. The situation resulted in permanent inconveniences for many.”

“And was any of this permanence directed toward the other party?” I creep toward the internal door.

“Yes,” he murmurs.

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