“What did you do with the girl? Wayne says you buried her elsewhere.” It’s the question I’ve been dreading, delivered with the casualness of asking about the weather.
I take a calculated risk. “I snapped her neck, and figured that burying her elsewhere would eliminate any future troubles.”
“Hmmmm. I’m not sure if I believe you. Not when you fail to share valuable information with me.”
“It was a mistake that I will not make again.”
For a few seconds he studies me, searching for the lie he can sense but can’t quite pinpoint. Roman Bishop has an almostsupernatural ability to detect deception. It’s served him well in building his empire, in knowing exactly when someone needs to be taught a lesson they won’t survive. “At least you didn’t fuck that up.” He finally nods, apparently satisfied. “I’d hate to think you couldn’t pull the trigger on some preacher’s daughter.”
The dismissive way he says it, some preacher’s daughter, causes a knife to twist in my chest. As if Saint is nothing. Disposable. Just another obstacle in the Bishop path.
That’s the way it should be. That’s how I should see it too, but I don’t. “Now,” my father continues, “we have a more immediate problem. Pastor James will be returning home on Sunday night. When he discovers his daughter is missing, he’ll raise hell. We need to make sure that hell doesn’t land on our doorstep.”
My throat tightens and it’s sickening how easily I step into the role of enforcer. “Whatever you need me to do. I’ll do it.”
My father smiles, excited over the fact that I’m eager to prove myself to him.
“A diversion.” He pulls a file from a stack on his desk, sliding it across to me. “Allie Porter. Emma Porter’s oldest and heir to the Porter Ranch. I was told she was coming home for the weekend. She should be here by today. Saintlyn and Allie are best friends.” I open the file, already knowing what I’ll find inside.
Details of Allie Porter’s life—her habits, schedule, weaknesses. Everything necessary to make her a convincing scapegoat. “I’ll need you to plant evidence at the James place suggesting Porter went there. Then make sure Allie Porter disappears too. All anyone will see is two young women running off together. From there, the town will draw their own conclusions. The kind that a preacher from a small town wouldn’t want anyone to examine too closely.”
The casualness with which he suggests destroying another innocent life to cover up the murder of another enrages me.Perhaps I am growing soft, or maybe I’m just done being my father’s bulldog. I don’t know. What I do know is Allie Porter hasn’t done anything wrong except come home from college at a bad time. And now she’ll be erased simply to provide cover for what I’ve done.
“I’ll take care of it.” The words taste like ash in my mouth.
My father nods. “See that you do. And Calder—” his voice hardens, “don’t fuck up again. When I give an order, I expect it to be followed to the letter and I expect all information, every fucking detail, to be shared with me. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” The response is automatic, ingrained from childhood.
“Good.” He turns back to the window, a clear dismissal. “Send Kade in on your way out. We need to discuss the Henderson property.”
I rise, tucking the file under my arm, desperate to be out of this room, and away from the man who can read me like an open fucking book. “And remember son, you’re a Bishop. My blood. My heir. Everything I’ve built here will be yours someday, but if you continue to make me question your worthiness I’ll be forced to remind you why everyone fears us.”
The threat hangs in the air. If I fuck up again he’s coming for me.
I leave without another word, closing the door quietly behind me. Once I’m in the hallway, I lean against the wall taking a small reprieve, the file feeling like a twenty pound weight in my hands. I look up from the floor and find my mother standing at the end of the hall.
Her worried gaze bleeds into mine. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, straightening up. “Just tired. Is Kade around? Dad wants to see him.”
She nods. “He’s in the kitchen having breakfast.” Her lips part and it looks as if she wants to say something else, but the words never come out, so I walk away.
I find Kade at the kitchen table, halfway through a stack of pancakes.
At twenty-six, my brother is the image of our father in his youth, same broad build, same confident bearing, same unquestioning loyalty to the Bishop name. Where I inherited our father’s cold calculation, Kade got his temper. And that’s a dangerous combination.
“Mornin’,” he says through a mouthful of food.
“Morning. Dad wants to see you.” I announce with icy disdain, pouring myself a cup of coffee. Kade raises an eyebrow sensing something off.
Discussing feelings, and problems, isn’t something we typically do. We talk with our fists, and if that doesn’t work we use bullets. But from the look on Kade’s face, that’s not sufficient enough today.
Setting his fork down, he pins me with a glare. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing. I got a little sloppy on a job last night. Dad’s pissed, as he should be. No real point in explaining it because it won’t happen again.”
“Sloppy?” A bubble of laughter slips past his lips. “It’s my job to fuck shit up.” He says it like a joke but I know better.
