“Thank you.” I accept the travel cup from her. “How much do I owe you?”
She waves me off, squeezing my arm gently. “It’s on the house.” A knowing smirk tugs at her lips. “For a friend of Bishop’s…”
I take a sip of the scalding-hot liquid, the bitterness matching the feeling rolling off Bishop right now.
The good-natured ribbing her family is giving her only seems to have put Bishop in an even worse mood, and I can see why she wanted me to get out of The Grind. She knew this was coming and was trying to intervene before they could get their claws into me—or her.
She glances up at me with a fake smile plastered on her face. “Well, you have your drink…”
Is she really going to tell me to get lost with her family sitting here?
I smirk at her and open my mouth to tell her I think I’ll stay for a bit, when the bells above the door jingle.
Bishop’s head whips that direction and those bourbon eyes darken immediately, icing over as her entire body tenses. Her hand slides down toward what I’m sure is the same gun concealed at her hip that she had when she was with me in the park.
My gut tightens, and I turn to see what has her reaching for a weapon as a man with slicked-back silver hair wearing a perfectly tailored suit walks in and zeroes right in on the entire table of Hawkes with a smile that’s equal parts charming and menacing.
9
BISHOP
There isn’t any time to act.
No opportunity to get the girls out through the back door and to safety.
He’s already here.
Already approaching us.
The Devil in the flesh.
Everyone at the table tenses as my hand curls around my gun at my hip, concealed by my jacket.
Gage stands just to my right, directly in the line of fire, completely oblivious to the fact that the man approaching us might be one of the most dangerous people on Earth.
Because he certainly doesn’t look it.
With his perfectly cut and styled silver hair, immaculately tailored Italian suit, and matching shoes the gleam under the lights of The Grind, he looks like he should be on the cover of a magazine.
But I know what lies underneath the slick exterior.
Pure fucking evil.
The Devil in disguise who uses his charm to hide his sinister intent.
Someone who’s willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants.
And what he wants is New Orleans—and more.
He came here on a revenge mission against the Hawkes, and he’s stayed to cement himself as the most powerful crime boss in the Gulf Coast. The only thing standing in his way now is our refusal to bend the knee.
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to pull my weapon and point it at him immediately, but a quick scan of The Grind tells me it would only cause panic and hysteria for the customers milling about and sitting at various tables casually enjoying a lazy morning.
Something we definitely don’t want.
After the explosion and shooting here, it’s taken Ang far too long to get things back to running normally. We don’t need to remind the public that this place has been attacked twice, or they’re going to steer clear of it.
Why tempt fate a third time?
