Page 135 of Bad Bishop

We were both screwed up, but I always held myself together. It worried me that I was putting my trust in this woman to protect my wife while I was gone when she did a shit job protecting her own ass.

“Fine.” Tierney shrugged. “So what if I’m talking to him? It’s got nothing to do with our work.”

“Everything’sto do with our work.”

“He doesn’t care about the Irish. We’re small fry. It’s the Camorra he is after,” she insisted. “If I could help him—”

“You couldn’t,” I snarled. “The Ferrantes will find out before you make a move. If they haven’t already.”

Vello had dirty feds working for him. He knew the FBI better than they knew themselves.

I massaged my temples, using every ounce of my self-control not to strangle her. She was going to rat out the people I was going to board a plane with tonight to take down the Bratva. My sister was batshit.

“Relax, we only had a coffee.Once.He knows nothing, and I don’t intend on giving him anything until you settle things in Vegas.”

Now that I thought about it, she’d been sulking a whole fucking lot recently. My sister could never be accused of being happy. But recently, she was downright miserable. I was too drunk on my wife’s cunt to pay attention.

“What’s your angle?” I growled.

Her cheeks were ablaze. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“I’m tired of this life, Tiernan. Tired of capitalizing on people’s weaknesses and addictions. Tired of the parties and pretending to be something I’m not. A social butterfly. An it girl. I want to retire somewhere nice. Coastal. European. I want dirty martinis and a clean conscience. Good books and maybe a gently reared husband to cook for every evening. It’s not much…” She stared hard at her toes, painted in shiny black. “But it’s enough for me.”

“You can have all those things without throwing everyone you know under the bus,” I whispered.

“No, I can’t.” She looked like the little girl in Siberia. Flustered, scared, and unsure. “You don’t have Achillesbreathing down your neck, holding your future in his palm, dangling it in front of you.”

“What are you talking about?” I stared at her in disbelief. “I married the don’sdaughter.”

“Come on, Tiernan.” She shook off my hand, which I hadn’t realized was clutching her wrist. She glided toward the kitchen. “You wanted Lila from the get-go. Fell for her before you even put a ring on it.You spared her life,” she whispered the last part. “You’ve never shied away from killing someone.”

“I’m not in love with her,” I corrected wryly. “We learned to get along, as you will with whoever Achilles chooses for you.”

“That you’d let him chooseanyonefor me shows how little you care about me. The power the Ferrantes have given you has corrupted you.” She wrenched an open wine bottle from her fridge, taking a swig from it.

“There was nothing left to corrupt.” I parked my elbows on the breakfast nook between us.

“Besides, the Ferrantes rule the East Coast. Refusing Achilles meant war. I needed to bide my time. See how shit unfolded.”

This was a bold-ass lie. I never tried to free her of the arrangement. I didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing for Tierney to settle down with someone who wasn’t scared of her antics. If Achilles chose well—which he’d promised me he would—my sister could finally be at peace.

Tierney put the wine on the counter and splayed her fingers, staring at her burgundy nails. “I’m going to ruin this bastard, Tiernan, if it’s the last thing I do in this life. I promise you, none of the heat is going to circle back to us. We’ll get immunity.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” I ran a hand over my hair. “Listen to yourself. If the Ferrantes catch you, I won’t be able to help you. Nor will any of your fancy artist and politician friends. And if this somehow touches Lila…” I raised a finger between us in warning, struggling to control my anger. “It’s not just theFerrantes you will have to worry about. I will personally put a bullet in your head.”

“Why?” Her eyes zinged victoriously. “Thought you said you didn’t love her.”

“I don’t,” I countered. “But I vowed to protect her. She’s my wife.”

“If you really want to protect her, strike an immunity deal wit—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

My sister huffed, realizing she wasn’t gonna win this one. “Anyway, what’d you come here for?”

“My wife, actually.” I turned my back to her, pretending to examine a painting on her wall to avoid her shit-eating smirk. I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “I need you to keep an eye on her while I’m in Vegas.”