Page 132 of Bad Bishop
Tiernan had spies monitoring his enemies’ every move. What made me think his rivals didn’t do the same?
There was no address from the sender. Which seemed to confirm it was slipped under the door, not sent via post. This made me even more nervous. Who could have access to this place? It was swarming with Irish soldiers twenty-four seven.
Whoever wrote this had skills and technique, access to the depths of the Irish and Italian operation.
And they were right. If word got out that the baby in my stomach wasn’t Tiernan’s, hewouldleave me. He’d have to.
But…why risk death and deliver this letter? More importantly, why now?
Why not when we first got married?
The pregnancy would soon come to fruition. The baby was almost here. And it was clear Tiernan and I had become more than just an arrangement. We both had something to lose now—each other.
I pressed my hand to my belly. The baby kicked hard, rioting against the quick thrashing of my heart, the panic coursing through my system.
Tiernan wasn’t going to like this letter.
Understatement of the year. He was going to tear the entire world apart.
It would likely distract him from his operation with the Russians, which demanded all of his attention.
And yet, I couldn’t handle this on my own.
…or could I?
It seemed straightforward. Bribery happened all the time in the underworld.
And 150K wasn’t even an unattainable amount of money. Enzo would give it to me in cash, no questions asked. All I needed was to pay the money and make the person shut up.
Would they, though?
My head began to spin. I sank down to the floor, burying my face in my hands.
I needed a plan.
And then I needed a plan B.
But I wasn’t going to lose them.
Not the baby, and not my husband.
I was going to fight with everything I had to keep them.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
LILA
Three days later, we visited the hearing specialist.
Dr. Castile was a man in his sixties, with Santa Claus’s white beard and eyebrows to match, rosy cheeks, and a sturdy figure. He took great care while checking my ears and going over my blood work and test results.
Tiernan sat manspread, looking every bit the scary mobster that he was, shooting questions like a firing squad, demanding to know when he could take me to the opera.
This should have been one of the most monumental and happiest moments of my life, but my mind was a million miles away.
With the letter I received, which was burning a hole in my bag.
With the prospect of losing him. Of failing to navigate this situation.
