“Bishop!”
Someone calls out her name, and the voice bursts the invisible bubble surrounding us that made it feel like we were the only two people in the damn room.
She shakes her head slightly, as if she was just freed from it too, and glances behind me at someone, then starts to step forward to get around me but freezes, returning her gaze to mine. “What is it you want? You’ve been hanging around the club, now you show up here. You must want something.”
“I would’ve thought that was obvious at this point.”
Without waiting for her reply, I push off the wall, turn, and walk away, weaving my way through the remaining crowd, her scent still filling my lungs and my cock still straining against my jeans.
By the time I step out into the fresh New Orleans air, it’s too late.
I made a mistake coming today. Seeking her out and thinking I could do it without her noticing was arrogant, risky, and downright foolish.
She’s too observant.
Too smart.
Too cunning.
That woman won’t give me an inch when I want to take it all.
Pushing her harder could massively backfire.
Or it could give me exactly what I need.
5
ONE WEEK LATER
BISHOP
The rain that’s been falling off and on for days comes down in a full-on deluge now, my windshield wipers barely able to keep up with it as I turn the final corner toward the gym.
Most people would have taken one look at the weather and stayed in bed.
This early, the sun barely peeks over the horizon, fighting to break through the storm clouds, the day not even truly started yet, but the last place I want to be is back under the covers.
I’m buzzing to get in the ring with Atlas.
Dad may have been right about needing something more, but for now, I have to work with what’s available. And lately, tearing into Atlas in the ring has been the only way I’ve been able to work out any of the frustration that’s been overwhelming me.
He craves it as much as I do.
Needs it the same way.
I’m the only one readily available who can get even close to giving him any sort of competition, though the boys will never concede that. Their egos won’t allow it—even with the split lips, bruises, and stitches they’ve received from Atlas when he’s holding back considerably for their sakes.
There won’t be any holding back today, though. At least, not from me.
The past two weeks have pushed me to my breaking point. After the scare with Allegra and Jack, then the incident with Gage at the club and his reappearance at the opening, not to mention the shit I received when everyone found out about Satriano’s “gift” and the fact that I hid it from them, I am ready to kick some ass and have mine kicked, too.
Sometimes, it’s the only thing that allows me to sleep.
Without the sheer physical exhaustion, I lie awake at night, wondering what Satriano might be doing at that very moment. And when I do manage to doze off, it’s to nightmares filled with explosions, blood splatters across sidewalks and tile floors, and visions of the people I love in hospital beds…
Or worse.
Last night was one of those nights, which means I’m itching to get in the ring before I have to head into work and face the fact that we still have nothing on Satriano or McDonald that might lead to an end for that uncertainty.
