It’s the best argument I can make.
Simple.
Straight to the point.
And maybe a little underhanded to suggest that not bringing me on would negatively affect her ability to protect her family.
But at this point, I’m willing to say whatever I need to in order to get Bishop to listen to reason.
I know the second she concedes because her shoulders slump slightly.
“This is a maybe.” She holds up a finger. “And don’t get any ideas about what it means beyond that.” Meaning us. “I’ll take you to meet my father and everyone else and they’ll check you out and make their decision about you.”
I hold up my hands. “I’m an open book. And it feels like you’ve already made your decision about me and it’s to cut me out.”
Her mouth opens and closes, like she’s not sure how to respond when her cousins are standing within ear shot. Instead, she just shakes her head. “We’re not doing this now.” She motions to the girls. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
She holds up her phone. “Emergency family meeting. And I’m warning you, this is going to be tense.”
“I can handle tense.”
Her brow furrows. “Are you sure?”
“I handled you, didn’t I?”
The heat that flares in her gaze almost overpowers the glower she tosses my way before she brushes past me, intentionally bumping her shoulder into mine.
I can’t fight a smirk that Kennedy, Jack, Astrid, and Allie all return as they brush past me to follow Bishop out the back of The Grind.
They know I won that battle, but it feels like the war is only just beginning.
10
GAGE
I pull up behind Bishop’s SUV at the curb, tug off my helmet, and stare up at one of the most beautiful houses I’ve ever seen.
Actually, house isn’t even the right word for it.
Nestled in the heart of the Garden District, surrounded by the wealthiest homes in the entire city, the massive Italianate mansion could grace the covers of an architectural magazine. With a waist-high iron fence circling the property, the imposing white house towers above us, a stunning and intimidating monument to taste…and money.
Lots of it.
These people have the kind of money most can’t even fathom.
Dad used to call it “fuck you money” when I was growing up, and his voice always held a hint if disdain for those who possessed it. Not because he was jealous. More due to the fact that he firmly believed money was the root of all evil in this world.
Though, I haven’t seen that with the Hawkes, from what little interaction I’ve had with them. If anything, they seem down to earth despite their wealth, and are even known for giving millions to charity through the Hawke Foundation annually.
If he had met them, I wonder if he would have held those views.
Bishop steps from her SUV out onto the road, and I climb off my bike and approach her, still staring up at the house.
“Whose place is this?”
She doesn’t even look at me when she answers, just slams her door and presses the button on her fob to lock it. “Cass and Kennedy and their daughter Charlotte.”
