“Hold up.” Bishop glances at Elena. “I need coffee. Do you remember how I like it, Ellie?”
She blushes. Smiles. Nods.
I clamp my mouth shut, running my tongue along my teeth to keep from snarling.
“Same for me. Thanks.” Langston rounds the table, walking behind my chair and clapping me lightly on the shoulder. “Good to see you again, cousin.” The familial reminder grates as he sits opposite his partner in crime. “How’s business?”
I meet his stare, my rage barely leashed. “Cut the shit. What do you want?”
A flicker of warning narrows his eyes. “There’s no need for hostility. We’re just doing our job.”
“Thereisno job. I have the situation under control.”
“Understood, but given this is our last duty to your father, we’re not going to neglect our responsibilities.”
“And what a sad duty that is. He left you nothing, yet you still run around after him like Satan’s favorite lapdogs.”
Bishop snickers. “He gave us everything we needed while he lived. I’d say that’s worth more than your inheritance.”
He’s right, and the truth reopens the old festering wound—my father chose to mentor these monsters while he abdicated his own sons.
“Tell us more about Ms. Cross’s appointment as CEO,” Langston says. “Why are there rumors she severed ties with the Cavallo Group?”
“Rumorsbeing the operative word,” I mutter.
Langston quirks a brow. “That’s all they were?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t see her statement addressing the matter.”
“A statement that reeked of desperation and backpedaling,” Bishop counters.
Elena returns with a serving tray and sets a flat white—my usual—in front of me, her gaze apologetic as I scowl at her.
The three of us wait in taut silence as she serves the remaining coffees, then retreats inside.
The moment the sliding doors shut behind her Langston lifts his mug. “We’d like to speak with Ms. Cross.”
“No.” My word is final. Absolute. I’m not negotiating when it comes to Isla’s safety.
Bishop smirks. “He still doesn’t understand how this works.”
Langston sips his coffee. “It seems that way.”
“You can cut the subtle intimidation.” I relax farther in my chair, trying to own a calm that’s overridden by hostility. “You’re glorified messengers for a dead man. The agreement hasn’t been breached.”
“And your brothers would agree?” Langston asks.
“My brothers are just as disgusted by the blood debt as I am. We never wanted any part of our father’s lifestyle.”
Bishop chuckles and spreads his arms wide, indicating our surroundings. “Obviously.”
“If you’re not interested in the favorable terms of the debt, why not sell it?” Langston counters. “The woman is young, smart, beautiful. She’d fetch a high price.”
The thought of Isla sold—of some piece of shit buying her like property?—
My body primes, like it’s waiting for permission to unleash hell.
“Is there more to this, cousin?” Langston cocks his head. “The situation seems personal.”