Page 80 of Bad Bishop

“Tierney, get out,” I ordered.

“What? Why me?”

“Because you’ll end up hitting him, and something tells me he’ll hit you back, and then I’ll have to kill him, which will derail all my plans.”

“He should be the one to go!”

“I need to negotiate Angelo with him.”

“You know what? Screw all of you.” She stomped away, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.

She’d get him next time. My twin shared my uncanny ability to turn rage into power.

Achilles flaked drops of coffee from his Tom Ford shirt, turning to me. “As I said, Angelo’s motive doesn’t add up.”

“Neither does Tate’s,” I responded.

“Why isn’t Lila solving this predicament?” Fintan frowned, gathering the documents in front of us into a stack. “Surely, she could point the attacker out for you if you showed her pictures of all the men in question.”

“That’s the problem.” I tapped a pen to my desk rhythmically. “She remembers what happened, and has vague flashbacks, but she doesn’t remember his face at all. Probably blocked it as some sort of a coping mechanism. And since Achilles cares more about saving face than about his sister…” I trailed off.

“Bring me a shred of proof he did it, and I’ll help you gut him alive,” Achilles said. “You’ve got the wrong guy, Callaghan. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think those pesky things called feelings are clouding your judgment.”

“I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to kill the bastard myself,” I conceded. But it had nothing to do with feelings. I needed to bury the secret with him.

“Stand in line, fuckface.” Achilles tossed his phone between his fingers. “I don’t think I’ll even be able to get a few kicksin, with the way Enzo and Luca are consumed by it. You still keeping your filthy hands off my baby sis?”

He was talking about the nice duffel bag full of cash he disposed of at Fermanagh’s every first of the month.

Not for long.

“For now,” I said noncommittally.

“Mama said you sleep in the same bed. Is that right?”

“Yeah.” I ran a hand over my hair. “Your sister has trouble sleeping. It’s better with someone around.”

“And you don’t mind spooning?” Achilles snorted.

I said nothing. It was none of his goddamn business what Lila and I were doing at night. Suddenly, I had less need for that duffel bag full of cash.

Fintan stood up, knocking his coffee cup over the documents I had printed out.

“Shite,” he hissed.

Achilles rolled his eyes. “How do you let him work with you? He’s a useless drunk.”

“And Enzo is a fuckboy who likes making coats out of his victims.” I hitched one shoulder up. “You don’t choose family.”

But if I could, I’d choose Fin all over again for the way he walked through fire for me.

“I’m not drunk,” Fintan mumbled, gathering the damp papers and taking them to the nearest trash can. “Just tired.”

“Anyway.” I jerked my chin toward Achilles. “All the other suspects are low on my list after reading Brennan’s report. Tate and Angelo are at the top. I suggest we start with bringing Tate in and take it from there.”

“Might require a little legwork. He’s in England now, fawning over his newborn.” Achilles collected his wallet and cigarette pack from my desk, standing up.

“Guess we’ll have to lure him back in the good, old-fashioned way.”