“We all are.” I turned back to the cell and pulled Cam’s pistol from my waistband. Then I shot the motherfucker through his goddamn skull.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“Hey,” Bishop said from the open doorway of my bedroom. He held up a bottle of top shelf whiskey. “I left an IOU downstairs. Care to join us out here?”
Austin nodded at me over his shoulder.
I glanced at Vance and Spencer. We’d been stationed in chairs at Davey’s bedside for the past forty minutes, letting Cam’s corpse drain onto the basement floor while I held my sister’s limp hand.
“Go on,” Spencer said. “She’s stable for now, and I’ve got it under control.”
I stood and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you again for coming. I can’t tell you what this means.”
“It’s no problem, Charley. I’m sorry my services are needed.” He patted me on the back before letting go. “Titus is an hour out.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Bishop, Austin, and I settled around the coffee table in my living room, while Vance grabbed glasses from my kitchen cabinet. He passed them out, then took a seat next to me on the couch.
“What now?” Bishop said as he poured himself half a glass, left-handed.
“Square one?” Austin took the bottle and poured himself a double. “After all this. Back to fucking square one.”
“Maybe not,” I said as Vance took the bottle. He poured for us both, and I tossed my drink back instead of answering the questioning looks aimed at me from all over the room.
“Where’s Jace?” Austin asked. “What’s going on? Where did you send him?”
I poured myself another as the sound of a familiar engine rumbled faintly from outside, spiking my pulse. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll tell you.”
“Hell no.” Bishop stood, and I stood with him, lurching between him and the front door.
“Stay,” I said. “Just drink with us for a few minutes, and then, with any luck, this’ll all be over.”
“What the fuck did you do, Charley?” he growled, and Vance stepped toward us, even though Bishop’s growl wasn’t aggressive. And wasn’t aimed at me. “What’s happening?”
“I had a suspect brought in. And as soon as he’s locked up, we’ll go talk to—”
Bishop tried to lunge around me, and I shoved him back, hissing at the fresh pain in my arm. Austin grabbed Bishop’s good arm, and Vance planted himself in front of the door.
“Five minutes,” I said, in as calm a tone as I could muster. “Pour yourself another drink.”
Austin let Bishop go, and we all poured another round and listened to several sets of footsteps crossing the floor of the bar beneath us. We tracked them, Bishop’s foot tapping aggressively on my floor, while we sipped expensive whiskey, tension radiating throughout the room.
We listened as those footsteps descended the basement stairs. As the door opened. As a shocked gasp echoed softly toward us, my new suspect clearly reacting to the sight of Cam’s corpse and the ruin that was his face.
“Oh my god,” Bishop said, and I couldn’t tell whether he’d recognized the owner of that gasp or he’d just figured out what conclusion I’d come to nearly an hour ago, when I sent Jace and Tucker on their mission. “Get out of the way, Charley.”
I stepped away from the door and set my empty glass on the coffee table. Then I followed him down two flights of stairs with Vance and Austin right behind us, praying that I’d hear the cell door clink shut before we got to the basement.
I did. But it was close.
“Nolan fucking Blake,” Bishop roared the second he made it through the basement door. “I fuckingknewit.”
“Wait. You don’t understand.” Nolan backed toward the rear of the cell Billy had just vacated and nearly tripped over his blanket in an attempt to get as far from Bishop as he could. “You don’t know what really happened.”
“Jace,” I said, motioning toward Bishop, and he and Tucker stepped between Bishop and the cell, holding him back. I turned to Nolan. “He may not understand, but I think I do.” I inhaled deeply. “She paid you, didn’t she? Ten thousand dollars. The bulk of her savings. Yvette paid you to bite her.”
“Bullshit!” Bishop roared.
