“I was looking for whatever dirt Archie must have on him. Archie was too much of a liability for the chief to protect him otherwise.” Paula set her coffee aside. “I found something else. Yesterday’s breaking news? Yeah, that wasn’t so new.”
An hour later, Bishop returned. Five minutes of that were spent getting through James’s gauntlet of security outside. James and Holden were nowhere to be seen. Darius and Kit were stationed at the dining table, sharing a laptop, a notepad, and a pot of coffee.
Kit kept fiddling with his half-full mug, and Bishop was relieved to see him anxious. Better than that frightening numbness.
“I wasn’t followed,” Bishop said, before Darius could ask.
“That you know of,” Darius countered.
Bishop took the chair next to Kit, then scooted closer, because he finally had that right. “You doing okay?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Kit said, but leaned agreeably in when Bishop rubbed his shoulder. He’d changed into his own clothes, which was fine. Preferable even, when it came to Bishop’s focus.
“I’ll try,” Bishop said. “Did you miss me?”
“You wish.” Kit pushed his coffee mug over. “Top me up.”
The coffee pot was on the table. Closer to Kit, actually. Bishop was happy to refill Kit’s mug.
Darius snagged the coffee pot next. “I picked up a lead.”
Bishop sat back. “So did I, but you go first.”
“That fake realtor actually handled some real estate,” Darius said. “I have some of the Rat Kings’ lackeys looking into recent sketchy sales. One interesting property popped up. A storefront that originally belonged to the Viper’s drug operations, then got picked up by the Rat Kings fifteen years ago.”
“Mr. Tweed bought it back in December,” Kit added. “James hasn’t found any sign of activity since the escape, though. So, it can’t be their hideout.”
“Try a month ago.” Bishop winced at Kit’s sharp look. Case reports were easier when they didn’t involve the man Bishop was obsessed with. “SCPD delayed the news. Archie and Laird have been out for weeks.”
“What the fuck,” Kit hissed, going pale.
“Did Paula say why?” Darius asked. His steady presence was welcome.
“Laird has dirt on the chief,” Bishop said. “Plus, I bet SCPD thought they could catch them before it became a big deal.”
“They’ve been out for a month.” Kit shoved clear of the table to pace. Anger tightened his fists. “Jesus fucking bullshit. I should have ordered a prison hit on him.”
Darius moved all the mugs away from the laptop. “That would have involved telling us about your dad sooner.”
Which was risky to say when Kit was so upset. Except Darius was pretty good at this. Kit kept pacing, but his hackles lowered.
“I wouldn’t have to explain anything,” Kit said loftily. “James would sign the check, no questions asked.”
Putting aside the absurdity of writing checks for black market assassinations, and whether Kit even knew how checks worked, Bishop took his cue from Darius’s calm. “This is good news. We have timing and a location lead. As soon as James is back—where is he, anyway?”
“Hopefully getting ten minutes of sleep, probably just doomscrolling camera feeds.” Kit slumped into his seat, jostling the table. Coffee sloshed, safely away from the keyboard. “Holden is doing forensic things to Mr. Tweed.”
“Glad he’s putting his education to use.” Bishop grabbed a napkin to mop up the coffee puddle. “We can give James another ten minutes, then he can work his camera magic on that property. Then we need to move carefully, but I think we can handle Archie and Laird.”
Kit’s gaze snapped over. “What do you mean?”
Bishop had spent the ride back from Paula’s house mulling this over. Tension was high because of their emotional connections. Unresolved pain and festering memories. The specter of the Viper’s old dominion. Laird, and to a lesser extent Archie, felt like an impossible threat.
The facts didn’t back that up.
“They won’t be as difficult as the Rat Kings,” Bishop said. “We handled them pretty easily, right?”
“Don’t say that in front of James,” Darius said, glancing at the staircase.
