Page 125 of Overcast

“He’s becoming a bitch.”

“Says the bitch who’s throwing a bitch fit over a prior detainee. Cool it, fucker.”

“He’s fine.”

“And since Reagan told me to keep an eye on you, there is—” I push myself up to stand, already past done with this.

“You having secret conversations on the phone with my sister is going to really get yourself fucked up if you don’t stop.”

Bishop doesn’t move, still flat on his back. “Then you need to stop.”

“Stop, what?”

“You need to let her go. She’s innocent, she didn’t do what you thought, you fucked up. Nothing you do is going to make up for that.”

“Man–” I shake my head, trailing my gaze to the house. “—I thought we took an oath to protect the people of this country.”

“We did,” he replies. “But not babysit them.”

“She was picked up by dudes in tinted out SUVs,” I retort. “What do you think that was?”

He shrugs, picking at a piece of grass. “It could’ve been what you thought, that she was Hollis’ chick. Maybe they thought it was the Bianca bitch. Regardless, let’s go to that strip club, find the girl and wrap this shit show up.”

My nostrils flare, and my inner thoughts bust at the seams.

He’s right, I’m not obligated to her in any way. We don’t play nanny and housekeeper to people.

Except none of us have ever done this before. Tortured an innocent and kept her alive.

My eyes widen at the thought. “You want to kill her.”

Dead air ping pongs between us, and my heart begins to seize. Even though Bishop would never act alone without consulting me first, it still sends goosebumps riding up my spine.

The fucker is scary. He doesn’t like to toy and fuck with his missions, he just likes to hear them scream.

Stormi hasn’t won him in any way like she has Mills. She’d be easy to get rid of, he wouldn’t have second thoughts, and there’d be shit for me to fix.

“Touch her,” I growl. “And I’ll fucking strangle you.”

Bishop moves, getting onto his feet as he glowers down at me. “Would love to see you try, rookie.” He takes a menacing step in my direction. “You better keep your puny threats to yourself, or I’ll burn her alive in front of you and piss on her ashes.”

I bite my tongue, not because I don’t want to counter back with something, but I want to hit him again.

And again.

And again, until I chip away at his skull with my knuckles.

“Get ready to go to that strip club tonight,” I vouch instead. “I’m geared up for some fun. And you need to get fucked.”

Fun meaning my tool bag in the back of my truck and someone’s flesh.

Walking off, I stride into the house. Mills is in my kitchen, fucking eating again—the animal—and I take the steps to my room two at a time.

I need some fucking space and a minute to breathe, to think.

Bishop isn’t way off.

I’ve just let my remorse eat and prod at me to make sure that nothing else happens to Stormi. And I can’t do that if I let her go to whatever vices are out there possibly waiting.

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