Page 21 of Wild Thing

Bishop is as good as Raven. So when he talks like this, I listen.

“Hey,” I say, really thinking of taking a trip to the Divide and chilling with him. “We need to discuss Butcher and all that. Let’s get together. What do you say?”

“I can swing by.”

“How aboutIswing by instead? Maybe take Raven with me. Hang out for an evening.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Tired of your fortress, jets, and an army of minions? You want to do a house swap?”

He actually makes me laugh this time. “Yeah.”

“As long as your crib comes with that pink fire on legs—sure.”

I grin. He saw Margot once. It didn’t go well. So, naturally, he probably has wet dreams about her.

“Seriously though. We need a meeting. I want you to meet Alex Ortiz. He’s former undercover too and the guy I trust with all the security advising right now. Let’s get the boys together, figure out this O’Shea business, and have a drink.”

“Any chance that pink doll gonna be there?”

He is adamant.

“No.”

He laughs through his nose.

I snort. “Sounds like you’ve been a no-woman kinda man for a while now, huh?”

“Discipline above all.”

“Has nothing to do with discipline. You should come here more often. You are an impressive man, and many girls are bored out of their minds.”

“Asceticism helps to clear the mind.”

“Don’t go Scarecrow on me, Bishop. I like your mind. So let’s shoot for tomorrow afternoon so we can figure some stuff out.”

If we ever do. Fuck if I know.

I’d gotten the updates about the British spies while I was on the mainland, but there’s much more to be done. The entire security team is in question. Only a handful can be trusted. Who knew that we’d be so fucked? And all because of some Russian princess who might be long dead by now. It’s always a girl.

Speaking of the devil, Kat is on my mind again. She’s my heart defect. Life got crazy on the mainland. Funerals, White House meetings, FBI giving a briefing about classified info like I have anything to do with it, family lawyers, Gen-Alpha lawyers and advisors, estate managers, accountants. You name it—I had it. Who knew that one death can make thousands scramble? My dad can. Granted, he is—was—one of the most important figures in the government. He still holds that power even after he’s gone.

And yet, amongst all that turmoil and grief that somehow turned into apathy and indifference, Kat was on my mind constantly. Even during my dad’s funeral, when I didn’t want to see a single face but wished I could talk to her.

And then I flew in Mr. Ortiz and Raylin Reyes, who I’d never met before, though I’ve been friends with Ty since Deene.

Mr. Ortiz seemed more approachable in person, jeans and a hoody and a baseball hat, but broader and taller than me—an impressive man. I felt like a conspirator chatting with him, knowing that Kat doesn’t know about this meeting.

Her texts were the sweetest unsolicited drug but also a reminder of how things ended with us.

Are you alright?

Fuck…

How are you doing, Archer?

And then the memories of her assaulted my brain.

How am I fucking doing, Kat? Why don’t you tell me again how shitty of a person I am?

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