What the fuck do I do?
Tipping my head back, I stare up at the gray sky and let the cold rain pelt my face, as if that can somehow wash away everything I’ve done to her. Every lie I’ve told and every misstep I’ve taken since I arrived in New Orleans run through my head.
There have been so many.
Most relating to Bishop.
And now it’s too late to fix it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I reluctantly reach back and tug it out, glancing at the screen.
Then we should meet. Now.
I start walking back toward my place, still idly searching behind every building along the way, as if she’s still going to be here, but it’s futile.
Bishop already found somewhere safe to hunker down and make a phone call to one of the Hawkes. She’s already told them what she found, and they’ve already come to the same conclusion she did—that they were my targets.
And she isn’t wrong about that.
But she is wrong about everything else.
I walk back up the driveway toward the shop feeling numb, like my brain doesn’t want to process what just happened, how quickly everything went to shit.
The door still stands wide open, and I step through it and slam it closed behind me, the old glass in it rattling. I lean back against it and drag in a shaky breath, building up the courage I need to follow through with what I’m about to do.
It’s the only thing I can do. The only chance I have to potentially salvage anything.
I pull out my phone again and hit dial on the number that just texted me.
A familiar voice answers. “Are you on your way here?”
I squeeze my eyes closed against the headache suddenly forming behind my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “No. Bishop Clarke found everything.”
“Shit.”
“She ran from my place. I’m sure by now, all the Hawkes know.”
“This is bad.”
Underfuckingstatement of the year.
“I know.” I swallow thickly. “I have to go after her. I have to go explain.”
“If you do that, you’re a dead man.”
I know it isn’t an empty threat or a warning.
It’s just the truth.
But I can’t leave things like this.
I can’t sit here and wait for Saint to appear and kill me with his bare fucking hands, which the man could do easily. I can’t wait for Atlas to show up and pound me into a bloody fucking pulp. I can’t wait around to see what the Hawkes would do to me if they go on believing what Bishop does.
Especially after the phone call I was on earlier that provided so much information I didn’t know before. It made so many things clear that hadn’t made sense, things I would have told Bishop had she given me the chance. But I can’t say I blame her for running.
I would have done the same in her position. And now, I have to fall on my sword. “I’m going over there. I’m going after her.”
“Don’t let your personal feelings get in the way of your job.”
