Page 57

Bishop

I counted down from five in my head and reached three before she spoke.

“How will you deal with it?”

“That’s not something you need to worry about.”

“But now you’ve said it, that’s all I’m going to think about.” She twisted on her seat. “Bishop, how will you deal with it? He’s a police detective.”

“That’s not as big a deal as you think it is.” I put my foot on the gas and took the car back onto the road. “But since we’re talking about it, does that mean you’ve made a decision?”

“On what?”

“On which option you want to pursue.”

I could feel her eyes on me as I drove along the highway, but I stayed silent and waited for her to answer me.

“If I choose option two, I have some conditions.”

Interesting . “What are they?”

“You can’t treat me like a client.”

I glanced over at her. “I don’t sleep with my clients. I told you that.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be just there for when you want to … to …” The color in her cheeks deepened. “You know what I mean.”

“You want to be more than a bed warmer.” I took the turnoff for Glenville, and we were almost at the town limits before I carried on talking. “For the record, you’re a bed hog. If I wanted a bed warmer, I’d buy a hot water bottle. It’d take up less space than you do.”

I hid a smile at her sharp intake of breath, and continued to speak before she could protest. “But I understand. I can’t promise you an in-depth involvement in my life. Not this quickly. My job is complicated, occasionally dangerous. If we decide to part ways in three weeks, I’d rather do so without you having inside details that could get one or both of us killed. So, I will offer a compromise. Until the three weeks are up, I will treat you like you are my wife in every sense of the word, apart from anything related to my work.”

“That’s acceptable.” Her attempt to sound professional was ruined by the slight quiver in her voice, but I didn’t comment on it.

“What are your other conditions?”

“There’s just one.”

“And that is …”

“I want to know what you plan to do about Chester.”

“That comes under work.” I took a left turn and pulled into a parking space outside the town’s best diner.

“But it affects me.”

“It only affects you if he finds you.” I cut off the engine and threw open the door. “He can’t find you if he’s dead.”

She was out of the car and waiting for me by the time I rounded it. “You can’t kill him,” she whispered, eyes darting left and right.

“Of course, I can.” I pressed a hand against her back and urged her forward toward the diner’s entrance.

The doors glided open, and I guided her into a secluded booth near the back. She took one of the bench seats and I slid onto the one opposite her and handed her a menu.

“What would you like to eat?”

She slapped it down onto the tabletop. “Bishop, you can’t seriously be thinking about—” she cast another look around.

“It was how I suggested you deal with it when we first met, if you recall.”

“Yes, but I said no.”

“You did, that’s true, but now you’ve set down conditions, Eden. And if you want me to follow those conditions then I see no other option.”

“What? I don’t understand. I never made that a condition.”

“No, but you want me to treat you like my wife.” I leaned across the table, let the easy smile drop from my face and nailed her with a look that had been known to put the fear of God into Mafia Dons. “And since you’re my wife, it’s my duty to fucking kill anyone who has hurt you.”

Her jaw dropped.

She still hadn’t recovered when the server came over and asked what we’d like to order.

“Coffee. Eden, what would you like to eat?”

She glanced down at the menu. “Grilled cheese, please.”

“Make that two. Thank you.”

The server nodded and hurried away, only to return a moment later with two mugs of coffee. “Would either of you like cream or sweetener?”

Eden nodded.

“I’ll bring it over for you.”

“Thanks.” As soon as the server had gone, she nailed me with a glare. “You’re making use of a loophole.”

“Tell me you wouldn’t be happier if you knew for sure there was never any chance of him ever showing back up.” I leaned back on my seat and took a mouthful of coffee. “If you can convince me that you’re not going to spend the next fuck knows how many years looking over your shoulder waiting for him to show up, then I’ll reconsider.”