Page 129 of Bad Bishop

“Outdoor range. You’ve graduated to moving targets. In real life, the person you need dead isn’t going to sit around and wait for you to pull the trigger. You need to be prepared.”

Was this his silent way of telling me he was worried I was a target? I wasn’t stupid. I knew his showdown with the Bratva was fast approaching.

The journey consisted of long, winding roads curling up hills and mountains, into woodlands just beyond Scarborough. Atsome point, the houses, streets, and electricity poles gave way to wilderness. Until, beyond the clear, cloudless sky and hills, I finally spotted a lone house.

Once we arrived, I realized the place was a cabin of sorts. It didn’t seem like a formal shooting range. More like someone’s home. I flashed my husband a curious glance as our boots chomped gravel on our way toward empty stables on acres of foliage.

“Safe house,” Tiernan explained, taking my hand in his and lacing our fingers together. My heart exploded into a trillion fluttering butterflies.

He’d been inside me, kissed me, licked me everywhere, and yet, this—this—had me blushing down to my toes. This simple touch that didn’t scream lust, but whispered intimacy.

“What for?” I asked verbally, unprepared to let go of his hand to sign.

“Sometimes we need to lay low. Other times, we smuggle people in and out of the country. Always good to have a place off the grid. Even better to have one away from cellular connection, so you can’t be tracked.”

I gnawed on my lower lip, taking this in.

“If ever things get fucked—and I mean your parents are dead, your brothers, Tierney, Fintan, me—you come here. There’s a loose brick at the back of the house, smeared in tar. There’s a phone number on a note under it. You call it three times and hang up. They’ll take you out of the country. Understand?”

Why was he telling me this now? What was he preparing for? And why did I have a feeling today wasn’t just about the shooting range, but also about familiarizing me with this place in case things went south?

“Tell me you understand, Lila.” He squeezed my hand after a moment.

“Yes,” I said thickly.

We stopped at the backyard of the house, which was outlined by a split-rail fence.

Tiernan stalked into a nearby shed and took out a clay-shooting machine. We got to work.

Unsurprisingly, I was just as bad at hitting moving targets as I was still ones. Worse, actually.

When we were done practicing for the day, he put his hand on my shoulder, peering into my eyes.

“We’ll practice some more, but in the meantime, I want you to remember a very important rule,Gealach. When the target is moving, you wait for a clear shot. Promise me you won’t lose your only chance at survival by panic-shooting.”

“I won’t panic-shoot. I promise.”

“That’s my girl.” He ducked his head down to kiss me, his hand on my waist, the other cradling the back of my neck. “Now let’s christen this field. It’s been four hours since I’ve been inside you.”

His fingers were in my hair, and my mouth was on his, and my nails sank into his skin, and his touch was everywhere, all at once—everywhere but my belly, of course. Never my belly.

We went tumbling down the damp overgrown weeds.

Angrily, I bit down on his lower lip, drawing blood, sucking it, and groaning my frustration into his mouth. All he did was laugh, kissing me harder.

“My little demoness,” he murmured, licking his own blood from the outline of my lips.

As he unbuttoned my clothes quickly, quickly, quickly, like the world was ending, I realized he unleashed something carnal in me.

Something nothing, and no one, could ever cage and lock back up.

And even though I was in an arranged marriage, I felt…

Free.

_______

When Tiernan stopped in front of Fermanagh’s, he didn’t park the car.