Page 126 of Bad Bishop

Unlikely,Tiernan thought. Nothing could reignite his lust for life. If, indeed, he was ever born with it.

And still, Tiernan decided to take Fintan’s advice and change his plan.

Kill Igor first. Die after.

After that pep talk, Fintan didn’t leave his brother alone for a few good months.

Tiernan was lucky if he could take a piss in peace.

His brother was overbearing, but his plan worked.

Tiernan waded through the trenches, coming out of them in one piece.

Fintan stopped following him like a puppy when Tiernan killed his first Bratva soldier.

The twinkle in his eye said it all.

He had found something to live for.

And that something was Igor’s death.

Tiernan made a deal with himself.

He’d kill Igor first and then give himself one year exactly to find something worth living for.

Three hundred and sixty-five days to wait for something spectacular to come along.

And on the last day, he’d kill himself.

He knew nothing quite so lovely could ever be found, though.

No magic was strong enough to save him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

LILA

Two weeks later, Tiernan and I went to check on one of his gambling joints on our way to a restaurant. He took me on a date three times a week, explaining that I needed to feel like a teenager and let loose. As soon as we walked inside, he led me downstairs to his office.

“Wait here.” He kissed my lips and headed upstairs to the cardroom.

I shook the rain off my coat and hair, watching the miserable weather through the window. The clouds were gray, dense, and pouring rain.

I settled into his plush recliner and rummaged in my coat’s pockets, realizing to my annoyance that I forgot my phone in the car. Pregnancy brain was a real thing. I was beginning to forget all kinds of stuff.

With a sigh, I took the stairs up to the cardroom in search of my husband. I found him leaning over a blackjack table, monitoring a heated game of cards. To his right were a few Irish soldiers, filling him in on something. And to his left was none other than…Becky.

My heart exploded at the sight of her, heat spreading across my body, down my arms, making my fists curl. It was the first hit of real, potent, red-hot jealousy I’d ever experienced, and I was so consumed with it, it robbed me of my breath.

She rubbed her fake tits against his arm, whispering into the shell of his ear.

I watched their lips hawkishly.

“Was it something I did?” I could practicallyseeher whining. She wore a black leather miniskirt and a red strapless heart-shaped corset. Tall boots and puffy hair with so much spray I hoped she’d die of gas emission.

“Becky, you’re a prostitute. Were you expecting a ring and a honeymoon in Paris?” Tiernan’s eye never wavered from the green fuzzy table.

“I thought I was your favorite.”