by Finn, Emilia
I swipe a hand beneath my eye and laugh. “It’s okay. I doubt you sold many.”
“I sold thousands,” he inserts. “Thousands and thousands, and every time I sold one, I had to say goodbye to you. It was like I was selling you, and it broke my damn heart every time, but that money came in handy. I needed to eat, I needed to buy things.”
“Why would…” I hesitate. “Thousands? I don’t understand why anyone would want–”
“I understand,” he murmurs. “It’s your eyes, Libby. Dirty green like the forest floor in the rain. I sold all of those drawings, I said goodbye to each one, and over the years, I’ve tried to track them down again, to buy them back.” He grins. “Some people accept my offer and sell it back. Some even give them back free and clear. And many see that they have something I want, so they dig in hard and ask for a hell of a lot more than they paid.”
“And you still pay?”
He nods. “I don’t want to share you. So I pay whatever they’re asking, I take that drawing back and say hello to the nine-year-old version of you again.”
“I don’t…” My breath comes out on a whoosh. “What does this have to do with Griffin Industries?”
“I saved my pennies from the sales of your pictures, and I purchased computers to rebuild with that money. I was always skilled with computers, which my mother knew, and though she bought me pencils because she loved me, she directed me toward the computer stuff out of desperation. She knew, as an adult, which one would pay the bills. Every single cent I’ve ever had first began as a picture of your eyes, now my company turns over…” he pauses, grins. “Well, more than your cop brain wants to hear. It would only annoy you. But a lot. Griffin Industries makes a lot of money, but I’ve never once forgotten it started with you. That’s the whole point here, Lib. Griffin isn’t dirty; every cent is legitimate. Every business deal is over the table, not under. We have auditors come in every single year to tear my books apart, and you know what?” His eyes flicker between mine. “They’re perfect. Griffin is a name to be proud of. The mighty lion, strong and brave and unafraid of any other that thinks they can step up and challenge me. Your name remains clean by knowing me.” He presses a kiss to my lips. Then another. They’re pecks, the kind where he’s trying to convince me this’ll work out. “I would never do anything to hurt you. Don’t you remember? I already made that promise.”
“I already told you,” I reply. “This has nothing to do with legitimate money anymore, and everything to do with how it looks. I can’t know Theo. It would almost be easier if you were still a Bishop. It would still suck, and we’d probably still be having this conversation, because Tate and Bishop just can’t be seen together anymore. But it would almost be easier if you were a broke Bishop.” I climb out of his lap and let his hands drop. “Those other guys, Kane and Jay, they were Bishop’s sons too. And they’ve dirtied their hands. They’ve done bad things, they’ve hurt people. They’ve broken laws, and they’ve pissed my chief off so much he’s going to sprout gray hair. But they’re unapologetic about who they are. They walk in and declare they’re Bishops. They acknowledge that they’re sons of a prick. But they earn their place in this town.”
Theo’s eyes narrow the longer I speak. He climbs to his feet and unfolds his tall body so he resembles a bear more than a lion. “How well do you know them, Elizabeth?” He slowly stalks forward so my eyes focus on his flaring nostrils. “How close have you gotten with them over the years? It almost sounds like your loyalties have made themselves clear.”
“Loyal–no. I don’t know them.”
He backs me up against the wall and shoves my hands above my head. I see the lion now. I see the anger. I see the betrayal in his eyes.
“I never met them when I was a child.” I grunt and buck my hips when he leans in closer. “Let me go.”
“Whose side are you on, Lib? Did you have fun growing up with those boys?”
I meet his eyes. “No! I’m on no one’s side. I’m Switzerland.”
“That’s a convenient fucking place to be for the cop. You feel bad for the kid whose mother was raped and murdered, but not bad enough that you won’t stop being friends with the murderers.”
“Friends with the murderers? Get off me!” I buck my hips forward in an attempt to shove him off. “I’m not friends with anybody! That’s the whole damn point. I’m alone, Gunner. I’m me. I stick to myself and do my job, and I absolutely do not make friends with Bishops anymore.”
“Did you sit at their table, Elizabeth? Knowing Colum murdered my mother? Did you sit around the Christmas tree and open expensive fucking gifts and consider yourself Switzerland? You didn’t kill my mother, you weren’t the one to pull the trigger, which means it wasn’t your fault. The boy was dead too, right? And suddenly it doesn’t matter who killed who, because Christmas morning felt really fucking good when you opened all those shiny presents.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I cry out and slam my head back when he bites my jaw. My brain throbs, and my eyes water. “I never met those boys when I was a kid. I didn’t know Colum had other sons. I didn’t even know Colum’s name was Colum until I was a grown adult.”
“You called him Uncle!”
“I know I called him Uncle! I was a child, that’s what I was told to call him. He kept his soldiers in the dark, Theo. That’s all my father was to him; a soldier. I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know his face. You knew more than I did, but before you could tell me, you died.”
“How close are you and the Bishops now, Elizabeth? It’s really fucking important for me to know who has your loyalty.”
“We’re not close! If they know their father and mine were in business together, they’ve never said. If they know I’m the daughter of a dirty cop, they’ve never said. In fact, before tonight, we have never had a private conversation at all. They stay on their side of town, and I stay on mine. I’ve never had to speak with them beyond a polite greeting in the street.”
“What private conversation did you have tonight?” He pushes his hips against mine until they dig in. “What took you an hour from when you pushed me out of that office until you came out again? With them,” he growls. “You walked out with them. What happened in that hour?”
“Nothing happened! I spoke with my chief, he tried to force me to sleep at his house tonight so they could keep an eye on my concussion. Then I left. Jesus, get off me!” I shove him and drag in a deep breath when he trips back a step. “You do not control the whole world. You do not control them. And you definitely do not control me. You were dead a couple hours ago. That boy that I loved and desperately wanted back; he was dead! Now he’s back, but you’re insane if you think you’re the same people. He was sweet, he stood up for me against bullies. He felt safe, and he made me desperately wish he never let go of my hand. You are a fake. You’re a phony and a liar. You walk around using this fake-ass name, but you act like those of us that kept our blemished names are the bad people. We held on despite the shame our names carry. We’re trying to make them shine again, but you took the easy way out. You just made a new name up, and now you live the good life amongst your riches while the rest of us still deal with the shame.”
“I took the easy way out?” He storms forward until his bared teeth are just an inch from my face. Unlike before, he doesn’t touch me at all. “I’ve never taken the easy road. The easy road was to stay in that club and accept Colum’s offer of a home amongst murderers. The easy way would have been to step in front of a fucking truck when I was so hungry and thin that a decent wind was a threat to me. I built myself!” He leans back and slams a fist to his own chest. “I built everything I have, I built it on the right side of the law, and I did it while I thought of you for twenty fucking years!”
“And yet, you could have had me for twenty years if you weren’t so afraid to use the name your mother gave you.”
“Fuck you, Elizabeth!” He spins away and throws his hand into the air. “You don’t know my mother. You don
’t know shit about my life. But I know about yours. I know every cent you earn, I know all of the awards you’ve received while on the police force. I know you go to the gym because the sour-sisters were mean to you. I know you’d rather have no friends at all, because you’re scared they’ll tarnish that name you swear you’re making shine. I know what date your fucking period comes!”
“You ran me.” I push off the wall and stalk forward with a balled fist. “You fucking ran me? You didn’t end up in the gym by accident. You knew I would be there.”
“Of course I knew! I have to know whose side you’re on.”
“You think I’m a Bishop soldier?” My voice wants to break, but I refuse the weakness as I stalk forward. “You think I’m a whore that can be bought. Colum owned my father, so you figure Kane and Jay own me?”
“I had to make sure,” he growls.
“And the results of your search?” I lean onto my toes when he backs up and his legs hit the end of the bed. “What did you decide, Gunner? Am I for sale?”
“No,” he growls. “You’re too fucking broke to have sold yourself.”
I’ve never slapped anyone in my life. I’ve hit, I’ve kicked. I’ve shot at, pepper sprayed, and one time, I tasered. But I’ve never slapped.
Until now.
My arm comes around so fast that I don’t even realize it’s happening. My palm is open, and the loud crack that comes when my skin connects with his hurts my ears. I snap his head around, and cry out at the pain that radiates through my hand and arm.
“Fuck you, Gunner Bishop! I am not, have never been, and will never be for sale. You arrogant, smug, hypocritical piece of shit asshole. How dare you doubt me? I was on your side!” I bring my arm back for another swing, but he doesn’t accept a second shot.
He grabs my wrists and tugs me forward until the breath explodes from my lungs.
“I was on your side!” I screech. “Yours is the only side I’ve ever been on my whole life. You think the whole world is out to get you. You think that everyone is gonna fuck your mother.”
“Don’t speak about my mom!”
“You place yourself above the rest of us. You assume the daughter of a dirty cop should be dirty. You assume Kane and Jay are your enemies, because their daddy was the enemy. You assume everyone else is going to hurt you, but you’re the son of a prick too. You’re the very same product that came of a bad hookup; you’re just like the rest of us! Colum killed my mother too!” I slam my arms against his chest. “He killed Jay and Kane’s mother, too! You think you’re the only victim around here? You’re running my records through your computer, you’re trying to trick Sophia into giving you answers about Checkmate.”
I pull back when clarity snicks into place. “This has nothing to do with computers and companies, and everything to do with the owners. You’re expecting to find out they’re bad people. You want to hurt them.” I slam my fist against his chest. “They are your brothers. They share your blood, but you want them to be the villains. What then? What will you do when you find out they’re dirty, huh? Go to the cops you hate so much?”
“No.” He leans in close enough that I feel his hot breath on my aching cheekbone. “I will take them the fuck out. I will remove them from society, so they join the ranks of Colum, of Raymond-fucking-Tate, of Sean Frankston, and Abel Hayes. Every man that had a part in my mother’s death is being sent away or executed. I don’t give a single shit who turns the locks or pulls the trigger. All I care about is the fact it’s being done. My list is getting shorter, and now I’m up to these fuckers you call my brothers.”
“I was on your list.” I stand on my toes when he refuses to meet my eyes. “I was, wasn’t I? That’s why you ran me. What would you have done if you found out I was accepting bribes from shady folks? What would you do if I told you I was bad?”
“I would have had you taken out,” he admits on an angry whisper. His eyes come down and meet mine. They’re not smiling. Not warm. Not loving, like they were earlier in Club 188. “I would have had you removed. But you’re not dirty, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It fucking matters!” I snap. “It matters you ever questioned it.”
Nausea roils in my stomach just like it did in the club, and anger wars against it to be the dominant feeling that rushes through my body. Turning away, I snap my hands from his grip when he tries to tug me back.
“I’m not getting into this, Theo. Or Gunner. Whoever the fuck you want to be, I’m not playing this game. I didn’t ask you to come back. I didn’t give you permission to run me. I will not help you run the Bishops when they’ve never done anything to you.”
“Their father murdered my mother!”
“He’s your father too,” I spit. “Perhaps check yourself in the mirror and ask the same questions you ask everyone else.”
I stop by my pile of clothes folded and laid out on a chair on the far side of this massive room. Theo’s hotel room is as big as my whole apartment, and it pisses me off that he can live in this world of luxury, but question everyone else’s morality compass.
The rest of us live humble lives, in regular homes – or in my case, a damn shoebox apartment where I have to walk up three floors. None of us take fancy vacations, none of us have fancy jobs.
How dare he, of all people, assume we’re the product of our parents?
My head throbs so much that I’m tempted to scream. My eye stings, my cheek pounds, and my lip is split again from all of my shouting.
“You can leave this town, Theo. I wanted the boy back, but if this is what I get…” I pause with my jeans pulled halfway up my legs. I look him up and down and barely swallow the fresh grief that wants to consume me. “If that boy is gone forever, and you’re this guy who’d rather execute innocents because of who their parents were, then not only are we not compatible on a personal level, but you can be sure I’m taking my ass to work and I’m going to run you too. I have powerful computers too. In fact, I’m pretty sure the Griffin logo is on the back of every monitor on every desk at the station. I’m going to find your crimes, and I’ll lock you up.” I yank my jeans up and jump to pull the button together. “I’m a good fucking cop, I’m clean, I do good work, and you…” I laugh and shake my head. “You’re an asshole. You came here thinking you’re the only victim in Colum’s empire, but you’re not. You’re not even the hardest done by.”
I pull the Griffin shirt off and toss it away, only to quickly slide the one I was wearing earlier back on. I’m braless, my shirt has dried blood on the front, and wearing it gives me the heebie-jeebies for reasons I can’t figure out, but I shake my shoulders back and ignore the slithering oil that moves in my stomach. “You won’t find an ally in me if you’re here to hurt people.”
“You’re choosing them,” he murmurs. “You say you’re clean, but you’re choosing Bishops over me.”
“You are a fucking Bishop!” I pick up a water bottle from the desk in the corner and toss it so he has to bat it away. “You are a Bishop. But you’re wrong; I’m not choosing them over you. I’m choosing right over wrong. My entire life, the only control I had, the only thing I could do and control all on my own, was whose side I was on. Whose word I believed. Whose back I could have. I choose right every time. I would choose you too if you were here for the right reasons, but you’re not. You’re not looking to find the good in people you literally don’t know. You’re digging up dirt, tossing it at them, and hoping it sticks.” I meet his eyes and shake my head. “I will not help you do that.”
I snatch up my phone and wallet and move across the room. I need to buy another half a dozen packets of ibuprofen on the way home, then I’m going to sleep and pray I don’t wake up. Take me, concussion, because I got everything I wished for… but it’s nothing like what I wished for.
“Don’t stay in town, Theo. We have nothing here for you.”
“I can’t let it go, Lib!” His voice cracks when my hand wraps around the door handle. “I’m not saying everyone else who step
ped into the club didn’t get a shitty hand. We all did. I get that, okay? But how do I know if they’re good or bad? How do I know that they wouldn’t sell an innocent woman for a few bucks?”
“You could ask them,” I argue quietly. “Instead of offering Sophia sex and a penthouse, you could ask her about her sister. You could ask Jay about the sex-trafficking operation he shut down. He didn’t benefit from it, Gunner. He didn’t allow it to go on. He shut it down and saved countless lives.”
“They have dirty money in their accounts.” He stands on the very opposite side of the room and swallows. “I came to you because your accounts are clean. Your whole fucking life is clean. But then I look at Sophia’s dance studio, and she’d have us believe she’s made millions in less than a year?”
“You want them to be guilty,” I murmur. “You want to punish them, because you can’t punish Colum. I don’t know them on a personal level. I don’t know about their money. I’ve stayed far away from it all, because that’s what I can control now. I can control the people I associate with, because I need people not to assume I’m just like my father.”
“You’re not.” He takes a step forward. “You’re nothing like that mongrel.”
“And you’re nothing like your dad, right?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing like him.”
“So maybe they deserve the same benefit. They at least deserve the opportunity to discuss it. They have no clue they even have a brother.” I release the door handle and walk toward him. “They have no clue there’s a third. How is that fair?”
“You…” He hesitates. “You didn’t tell them tonight, while I waited outside the club?”
I shake my head. “No. Because Gunner Bishop has my loyalty. This dude Theo? He’s an asshole. He’s no one to me, but Gunner… that sweet boy?” I look between his eyes. “He has brothers. And all three of them deserve to know each other. They deserve the truth.”
“It’s not my responsibility to mind their feelings, Libby.”