by Finn, Emilia
“Better the devil you know.”
He gives a tiny nod. “That’s it. Pack enough for a week or so.”
I sigh. How has it come about that I’m taking orders… like a regular Bishop soldier?
25
Libby
Romeo
Somehow, what started as a fun trip away has now ended in the world’s longest road trip. Hours on hours on hours of driving. Gunner and I travel in the Range Rover and follow Jay and Soph’s car, and we cross state lines somewhere in the middle of the night as Spence switches out, folds his bulky frame into the back seat to sleep, and Jay takes over driving their car.
Gunner refuses to switch. He refuses to take any respite, and because I know he must be tired, I force myself to stay awake for the ride.
We drive for about fourteen or fifteen hours, to arrive at a shitty hotel on the side of the highway not long after the sun comes up.
From a log cabin to this. It’s like the world’s worst joke, as, after Soph checks us in and collects four room keys from reception, we take one and let ourselves into the room beside Spence’s.
One bed, one small table not unlike the kind I had and threw away after I stubbed my toe. One bathroom, old but clean, and one box TV.
I know a life of luxury. And I know a life of living well below my means. I know both ends of the spectrum, and it’s not like I’m fussy. But shit, to leave the cabin and come here is almost enough to wind me.
“Come on.” Gunner follows me in and closes the door at my back. “We need to sleep. The rest can wait.” He places our suitcases on the rickety table, kicks his shoes off, and when I don’t move, he shoves me back so I flop onto the bed, then he works on unlacing my sneakers.
I think I’m in an exhausted coma. Unable to compute, unable to make decisions. I should be starving, but I don’t feel the hunger. Not even for the pack of cookies I never got to start at the cabin. I should be itching for a shower, but washing my whole body seems like such a massive chore. I should even wonder about the fourth key that Soph got, considering those of us that arrived today only fill three rooms. But I do nothing except curl up on the lumpy bed in jeans and a shirt, and when Gunner tosses my shoes and scoops me up to settle my head on the pillows, I close my eyes and try to stay awake long enough to feel him crawl onto the bed behind me.
It’s somewhere around seven in the morning, and the sunlight streaming through the shitty curtains should make it impossible to sleep, but we haven’t been horizontal in more than twenty-four hours, and my brain has gone to mush.
“Sleep, Libby.”
He makes himself comfortable behind me, tucks his legs beneath mine, and wraps his arm around my chest. A gentle kiss pressed to the back of my neck is the last thing I remember as I drift into an exhausted sleep, and I don’t come back out again until the middle of the afternoon.
* * *
At five on the dot, when the sun is already going down and Gunner and I have found enough brainpower to have a shower and clean ourselves up, the five of us pull up outside a honkytonk about fifteen minutes from our hotel and take a look around the parking lot.
“Who are we meeting here?” The very second we climb out of our cars and meet at the front of the Range Rover, Gunner asks them the question he’s asked me a hundred times in the last hour. “Why are we here?”
“We’re meeting a guy that works for me,” Soph answers dismissively. “We call him Romeo. He’s cool, he’s one of us.”
“And remind me again why we’re meeting him? It’s not that I don’t trust your choices,” He doesn’t trust her choices at all , “but I don’t get it.”
“He’s military muscle and a sharpshooter. Best shooter I know.”
“Not better than Kane,” Jay grumbles. “Don’t forget your loyalties, Sophia Solomon.”
“You guys like to shoot?” Gunner looks from one face to the next. I don’t think he meant to speak, but now it’s out, and all three of our visitors study him with lifted brows. “Fuck it. Nevermind.” He snags my hand and tries to push through the group.
“We like to shoot,” Jay answers. “We practice a lot, we compete with each other. My best in the range is a five-forty-five, and best long distance is eleven hundred yards. Four shots, four hits with a gentle breeze.” He lifts his chin, almost as though waiting for his ‘good boy’. “You?”
Gunner shrugs as though he’s not interested in playing. But his jaw tells another story. The way it grinds says that he has a lot to say, but isn’t allowing himself the freedom. “Sometimes. Nothing like yours.”
Jay nods. “Spence owns the range in town. Could probably ask him to help or whatever.” He throws a beefy arm over Soph’s shoulder, and without another word, leads her into the dimly lit bar so the rest of us stand in silence.
“He’s trying to like you,” Spence says. He tilts his head in the direction Jay just left. “He used to crush on Griffin tech, he would have squealed like a little bitch if he’d known you were in the house… before the part where you hit on Soph.”
Gunner clears his throat and wipes a hand over his lips. “That was my bad. Picked the wrong target.”
Spence watches Gunner for a long minute. Considers. Nods. “That’s what I figured. You’re with her,” he nods toward me, “you’re super attached to her, so I believe you that hitting on Soph was a business move. It was a stupid move, but it was tactical and had nothing to do with her legs or stealing her from him in particular. It was just a bad target all round.” He turns away, so we follow him in. “He wants to like you, and he’s coming around to the tactical thing. Hitting on her for business is much more palatable than hitting on her because you wanna seduce her.”
“I don’t wanna fuck her.”
Spence chuckles. “I know. Chick cop has a reputation around town. She’s a savage, and seeing as she’s super attached to you too, I doubt you’re willing to risk losing your nuts. Bishop brothers aren’t your enemies, Griffin. They’re the best guys I know, and they don’t want enemies. Don’t hit on or hurt their women, and you’ll be fine. It’s gonna take time, but mind your business, and things will get less tense around here soon.”
“Why are you telling us this?”
He slows just before we reach the table Soph and Jay are already sitting at. “Because they’re my brothers by choice. We’re family because of the things we’ve seen and done together. You’re their brother by blood, and there’s only so long they’re gonna deny that. I’d like to get in now and make sure you’re legit. We can be pals, but I assure you, anything you say or do can be used against you.” He stops and grins for me. “Like my cop speak? Sexy, right?”
“Totally sexy.” I laugh for Spence, but it gets louder when Gunner growls under his breath because I called someone other than him sexy.
We approach the table, and because it’s somehow easier, I’m the sacrificial lamb that sits between Jay and Gunner. Soph sits on Jay’s other side, and Spence on the end. Without verbally announcing it, the men are working together to encase the women in the middle for what I assume is protection.
What are they protecting us from? And how can they not see the way they work together, even without words?
Not long after sitting, a tall shadow at the front door makes at least half of the bar’s occupants stop and take notice.
None of us fit in here. The other people in here wear skirts or Wranglers, boots, and cowboy hats. Many wear oversized buckles on their belts, and a few somehow rolled in off the ranch, complete with spurs and dust on their boots.
But the Bishops wear muscle shirts. Spence wears camouflage pants as though they’re the only pants he owns. And the man at the door, our Romeo, is tall and broad like Spence. He wears a black shirt that encases what I would consider massive biceps. His chest is thick, broad, and his neck is thick.
He and Spence could compete in size, but when Romeo steps into view and zeros in on our group, Spence’s easy nature vanishes into plumes of smoke. He sits taller and sets the rest of us
on edge with his intensity.
Why do we need muscle?
Why do we need a sharpshooter?
And how the hell have I ended up here, in this bar, when not so long ago, I was so straight, I was at risk of snapping?
“Guys, meet my friend,” Sophia makes the introductions. “We call him Romeo, and if you wanna step up and demand to know his real name, then I won’t get in between the alpha asshole bullshit. Or you could respect his privacy, and enjoy knowing he’s one of us.”
Spence’s eyes strangely narrow. His hands ball, and his lips thin. But when Romeo extends a hand across the table, Spence takes it and shakes. “Romeo.”
Romeo’s lips lift just the tiniest of fractions. “Serrano. Good to see you again.”
“Again?” Soph shoots forward in her seat and demands her shooter’s eyes. “What?”
“Don’t like surprises, do you Ace?” Romeo stops in front of Soph, and when Jay’s teeth practically pull back in a snarl, he chuckles and pulls the ballerina up into a fast hug. “Good to see your face.”
“We spoke just today.”
“True.” He pulls back. “I heard your voice, but I so rarely get to see your face.”
“What’s your name, soldier?” Veins bulge in Jay’s neck. His hand wraps around Soph’s hips as he pulls her back down to sit beside him, and when he pulls her almost into his lap, she laughs and makes him a little madder. “They call you Romeo, but I’m gonna need a name.”
“Nah.” The guy shakes his head and continues on down our line like it’s okay not to shake Jay Bishop’s hand. He winks at me, takes my hand without asking, and gives it a gentle shake. “Romeo.”
“Libby.”
Gunner growls. Jay growls. Everyone is a jealous fool, and Romeo is enjoying it immensely.
“Nice to meetcha, Libby. You lift? I can see the definition in your shoulders.”
“Only sometimes.” I shrug, and when I catch Soph’s grin, I have to drop my eyes and pretend I’m shy. I’m not, but if I smile at this man just once, we’re both going to be in big trouble. “You?”
He chuckles. Spence chuckles. I chuckle. And then Gunner’s hand is where mine was, his chest bulging with adrenaline and what some call his obsession with me. “Neither of these women are single.” He even includes Soph when he nods between us. “Don’t try it, or you’ll lose both of your fuckin’ hands. What’s your name?”
“Romeo.” The handsome man who looks to be a mix of white and Portuguese takes his hand from Gunner’s and makes his way to the end of the table to sit by Spence. “These dudes always this tense?”
“Only when you eye-fuck their women. Apparently, it’s frowned upon.” He shrugs, and flashes a wide grin. “Info went out in the last company newsletter.”
“You haven’t changed one bit.” Romeo claps Spence on the shoulder and continues to ignore Soph’s question as a server comes to our table and takes orders. Strangely – or maybe not so strange, I guess – no one orders alcohol. No casual beer. No glass of whiskey on ice. The guys tend toward soda, the girls ask for orange juice, and when our drinks come out a minute later, Romeo sips and sends Sophia insane with curiosity. “It kills you not knowing everything, huh?”
“Yes! Tell me.”
He chuckles. “I know this dude as Sierra. We used to serve together.”
“Two tours.” Spence holds up two fingers. “Back when we were young and nimble.”
“You’re plenty nimble.” Romeo rests his elbows on the table and lets his head droop. “We were nine months into what was supposed to be a twelve-month tour when he saved my life. A knife was coming for my throat when he stepped in. I’d be dead and buried by now if he wasn’t watching out that day.”
“You repaid your debt.” Spence brushes it off. “We’re good.”
Romeo gives a thoughtful nod, as though thinking back to a day among gunfire and noise. “We’re good. Didn’t know you were Soph’s, but I can’t say it makes me unhappy.” He sets his drink down and finally acknowledges Jay. “Anyone wanna tell me why we’re here? Why have I been watching a shitty hotel for two days?”
“I’d like to know that too.” I sit forward and draw everyone’s eyes. “Why do we need a sharpshooter on this trip? I thought you were just here to see whoever this guy is. That’s what you told us. You said there have been no real threats, just implied.” I flatten my lips. “You need to remember who you’re traveling with.”
“Who are we traveling with?” Romeo’s eyes flicker between me and Griffin.
“She’s a cop,” Soph answers. “Straight-laced and super competitive when they run collar comps at work. Most arrests gets a free donut or something.”
“Shit,” he laughs. “I’m like, ten percent scared, but the rest of me is turned on.” He looks to Gunner. “She in charge in the bedroom?”
“Stop.” Chuckling, Soph tosses a cardboard coaster at her muscled friend. “Jesus, please make it stop. We don’t challenge Bishop blood to these kinds of pissing contests.”
“Bishop?” Romeo’s brow pops high. “You’re a Bishop?”
“No.” Jay and Gunner answer at the same time. And though they were saying the same thing, Jay’s easy denial brings the shutters down in Gunner’s eyes. He doesn’t want to be a Bishop, but more than that, he doesn’t want to be rejected. The man, Theo Griffin, is strong and built himself to be who he is today, but the boy inside him found out he has brothers, and now they don’t want him.
I reach into his lap and wrap my hand around his. I squeeze, and when his eyes don’t come up, I squeeze harder while the others at the table chat in murmured tones. “Griffin?” I use the name he needs me to use, and lean a little closer to get his attention. “Hey, look at me, Blue Eyes.”
The music is loud enough that the others at our table can’t overhear us. But Gunner can hear. He knows I’m here.
“Hey, don’t make me mad in this bar, Theo Griffin. You know I’ll make a scene.”
Finally, his eyes slowly lift and meet mine. It kills me that rejection somehow makes the blue in his eyes less bright. “Hey there… Love you.”
He forces a small smile. “Love you too. You okay in here?”
“Yeah, I’m good. As long as you’re here, I’m good.”
“This place is kinda shitty compared to the cabin, huh?”
I smile and bring his hand up so I can press a kiss to cracked knuckles. He sparred the heavy bags in his home gym yesterday, and his knuckles are still showing the proof. “I was thinking that this morning. I can’t believe I ever complained about the cabin. Oh, poor us, having to get up to switch the tub jets on. Our lives are so damn horrible, because you only had a few channels on your massive TV.”
“Wanna go back?” he whispers.
“So damn much.” I lean up and pucker my lips until he takes them. “I will never complain about your money again.”
He scoffs. “Speaking of. I need to get her the hell out of my system.”
“I don’t know if you can!” I laugh. “You can’t find how she got in, so how are you supposed to get her out? She’s like the little sperm that survived the pill.”
“And the pullout.”
“And the morning after pill,” I add. “She’s super determined, but she’s not doing harm. In fact, if we take her at her word, she kinda did you a solid by diverting the dude.”
“I’m not ready to tell her thanks.” He pulls me in closer and breathes into my hair. “So I’m gonna pretend she’s sending little STDs into my files, and stay mad a little longer. I’m not ready to let it go.”
“Whatever makes you happy. Hey… What do you think of that Romeo?” I keep my words low, but somehow, when I look up, the man I speak of lifts his brow in question.
Can he read lips? Can he hear me, but Jay and Soph can’t? Or is he still turned on at the thought of a female cop?
“Dunno,” Gunner answers. His lips are buried in my hair, hidden and muffled, so Romeo’s eyes go back to Spence while they talk of… stuff. I don’t eve
n know what. “He’s a random dude, and he’s theirs.”
“He’s Soph’s,” I amend. “Jay doesn’t seem super pleased about this.”
He nods. “And he’s Spence’s. They have history. So when shit gets messy, he’s gonna protect Soph, then he’ll protect Spence. Jay will protect Soph. Spence will protect Jay and Soph.” He pauses. “The point is, none of them are gonna be looking out for us.”
“We’ve always been a team. You and me. It’s okay. I prefer it this way.”
“You and me. When it all goes to shit, and I’m certain it will…” He pulls back to look into my eyes. “It will go to shit, Lib. We’re with Bishops and sharpshooters, this shit will explode, so remember who’s on your team, okay? I won’t fuck it up.”
I nod, and when the tension almost suffocates me, I take his hand and grin. “Spit shake?”
He gives a gentle smile. “Spit sha–”
His words cut off on a gurgle when I open his palm and spit straight into the center.
“Spit shake.” I close his fingers, and laugh when his lips curl back in disgust. “Don’t forget.”
26
Gunner
Team Bonding
One day turns into three. Three days turn into a week. Then two weeks.
Just like that, time passes us by, and though I’m with Libby, so it’s really not as bad as it could be, we’re also with these people we don’t want to be with.
Jay is still as angry as always, made worse because Soph isn’t. She seems to actually like me, and every time she speaks to me, Jay gets more and more frustrated.
I get it, of course. Jealousy isn’t reserved for high school students, and I wouldn’t even consider it a juvenile emotion. He has something he refuses to give up, but he also has a genius for a girlfriend, and while he has many talents in his own right, he can’t match her intellect. He can’t challenge her in that way.
