“I know. You told us she dumped him the night Austin and I came to town. As it turns out, she was still feeling hurt about his ‘emotional unavailability,’ especially considering how much of a catch she considers herself…for a man who lives in the, and I quote, ‘goddamn Hideaway trailer park.’”
“Oh mygod! Bishop, that’s fucking brilliant!” I launched myself up onto my toes and planted a kiss right on his mouth. But what I’d intended as a brief, triumph-fueled gesture lingered much longer than that, because he dropped the soap, lifted me with slick hands, and pressed me against the wall of my own shower while he plundered my mouth with a resurgence of our earlier heat.
“Damn it,” I swore as I shoved him back.
He laughed as he set me down. “You started that.”
“I— Give me the godddamn soap.” I lathered up again quickly, rinsed off, then wrapped a towel around myself while I brushed my teeth at the mirror. “There’s a new toothbrush under the sink,” I told him. “Brush well, then throw it away. And don’t fucking touch me again until we’re both dressed.”
“Yes. Hideaway,” I said as I clicked my seatbelt into place in the passenger’s seat of Bishop’s 4Runner.
“That trailer park off the highway?” Tucker said, over the phone.
“Yeah. He lives, like ten minutes from the bar. This whole fucking time.”
“How sure are we? I haven’t found an address yet, and—”
“Abso-fucking-lutely sure,” Bishop said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I could smell the fucker everywhere.”
Tucker hesitated. Then he lowered his voice. “He went there? Alone?”
“Yes, but Cam wasn’t home, and he swears he didn’t touch anything.”
“Okay, stay where you are and wait for me,” Tucker said. “You need backup.”
“Shehasbackup,” Bishop growled.
“Charley—”
“We’re short-handed, Tucker,” I said. “And Austin has no car here in town. I need you to take him to the bar and set up the other cell for Cam. I don’t love putting him down there with Billy, where they could get their stories straight, but I haven’t come up with anything else yet, so for now, we’re just not going to leave them alone.”
“You can’t use Bishop in the field,” Tucker insisted. “He’s had no training. I’ll grab Austin and bring him, but we’re coming to you, not the bar.”
“I need the cell prepared, Tucker, and I’m your—”
“Boss. I know. But Titus is yours, and he told menotto let you go after Cam alone.”
“She’s not alone,” Bishop growled.
“Wait for us.” Tucker insisted. Then he hung up.
“I’m getting really tired of people telling me to wait,” I grumbled as I leaned forward to shove my phone into my pocket.
Bishop snorted. “I may not have ‘training,’ but I’m the one who found this asshole,” he said.
“And that was awesome. But Tucker’s not wrong. If you’re going to be out here with us, youhaveto follow orders. I believe you’re familiar with the concept.”
Another snort.
“Promise me. Promise me this like you promised Austin you wouldn’t keep any more secrets from him.” I wanted him to mean it.
Bishop glanced at me before turning back to the road. “Fine. I promise. Out here, you’re the boss.”
“Damn right.”
“But in the bedroom—”
“I’m the boss in there too, unless I decide to take the night off.”
