I WANDERED AROUND MY TINY new apartment, which took all of approximately ninety seconds. There was a small bedroom, a minuscule bathroom, and an open area that served as a living room and eat-in kitchen. But the small size didn’t bother me. My apartment in New York, one that I’d fought for the right to live in for years before Dom had allowed it, was at least quadruple the size, but I’d never used every room. I hoped this place would feel more like home than that one did.
Harriet had left a bottle of wine on the counter, and I debated opening it, still wary of alcohol.
Leaving it where it sat, I unpacked my suitcase and hung up my limited wardrobe before pulling out the envelope of cash I’d stashed in the lining of my bag. I might not have learned a lot of the how to be a gangster rules from the mobsters around me, but at the end of the day, it seemed like there was only one that truly mattered—cash is king.
For the last several months, every week when my paycheck was deposited into my account, I’d go to the bank and withdraw cash. If someone had asked me at the time, I would have said it was rainy-day money, or some kind of response like that. In all reality, it was because my bank account had been frozen once before when Dom was investigated by the FBI. I couldn’t even buy myself lunch because I’d always relied on plastic and never carried cash.
As soon as the accounts had been unfrozen, I’d started my stash in case it ever happened again.
I pulled out the burner phone and checked the Internet browser for news. There’d been nothing new the last five times I’d checked today, and I wasn’t holding my breath now. The only article I could find was the same one that had been there this morning.
I’d love to think no news was good news.
Once I’d put the money in the safe in the bedroom closet and organized the rest of my few belongings, I sat down on the small sofa. The TV didn’t work, and none of the five books I started could hold my attention. Restlessness wasn’t a familiar feeling for me, but tonight I had it in spades.
I looked out the window to the fairy lights hanging in the trees and the blue water of the pool that looked almost tropical with the lights coming from beneath the surface.
Is it heated? I hadn’t thought to ask Harriet because it wasn’t like I’d packed a bathing suit when I was rushing out of my apartment to leave the city.
Deciding to find out for myself, I opened the door and padded down the wrought-iron spiral staircase to the path that led to the pool. It was a magical little courtyard, and I could see why Charlie had called it her garden oasis. I kicked off one shoe and dipped a toe in the water.
Perfect.
Harriet said she was leaving. The pool couldn’t be seen from the gate . . . did I dare take a dip sans suit?
I’d never skinny-dipped in my life, but I was turning over a whole new leaf in New Orleans. Daring filled me. Why not? I stripped out of my jeans, cardigan, and cami before pausing to decide if I really wanted to go all the way. I could just jump in with my bra and underwear on . . .
Screw it. For once in my life, I was exercising the go big or go home mentality. I shoved my panties down my legs and unhooked my bra before stepping into the pool and slipping my entire body into the water. Definitely heated. From water level, I could see the small tendrils of steam rising into the cooler night air. It was so peaceful. Everything about this night seemed perfect.
A new beginning. Maybe a new place to belong. I was filled with hope, and every day that burner phone didn’t make another sound, I convinced myself a little more that maybe they’d forgotten me.
My quiet reverie didn’t last long, however. The iron gate clanged with someone’s entry, and I slapped a hand over my lips to hold in the shriek that threatened to escape.
Harriet? Charlie? Who?
I sank lower into the water, wanting to be completely covered, but sucked in a breath when a tall, broad form entered the courtyard.
No way.
Bishop started up the stairs but paused when the spiral caused him to face the pool. He couldn’t miss me.
“What the hell are you doing?” His deep voice carried across the courtyard as he came back down the stairs and toward me.
I slipped to the front edge of the pool, pressing my body against the cement wall. I reached out, intent on grabbing my cami or my sweater, but both were just out of reach.
Bishop stopped a few feet away from the pile of my clothes, and I stared at the thick black soles of his boots. If he came another step closer, there was no way he could miss how well-lit my naked body was by the pool lights.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” The words were uttered low and hoarse, as if he weren’t talking to me at all.
“Please toss me my shirt,” I whispered.
The last thing I expected Bishop to do was shake his head. “Nah. I don’t think I will. Because this way, I’ve got a captive audience and you’re going to answer my questions.”
Goose bumps rose along my shoulders, and I slipped further beneath the surface so that my chin touched the edge.
“What are you talking about?” I tried to sound nonchalant, but my heart hammered harder with every beat.
“You bailed on the hotel. Stiffed them on the bill for what you said you’d cover. Why?”
Oh shit. I knew that was going to come out sooner or later, but I’d naively hoped for later. Of course his friend would tell him as soon as possible. And of course I didn’t have a story to give Bishop . . . yet.
He stared down at me, clearly waiting on an answer.
“I . . . forgot?”
His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t forget shit. You ran. What I want to know is why? I have to assume you have enough to pay rent to Harriet, or are you going to skip out before you pay her too?”
“No! Of course not. No way would I do that to Harriet.”
“But you thought it was okay to fuck over the hotel?”
My fingers curled around the concrete edge of the pool. “I’m so sorry. Really, I am. I got spooked and bolted. It wasn’t planned.”
Bishop’s stare intensified, as if he were trying to take me apart layer by layer. “You’re not going to tell me the real reason why, are you?”
I broke away from his gaze and stared out into the darkness that had settled over the courtyard. “I can’t. I . . . if I could, I would.” My voice was quiet, but at least my words weren’t a lie.
“I heard all the stories about when Charlie was working at the shop and she was on the run, and I gotta say, I see a whole lot of similarities with you. No one can help you if you won’t tell someone what the fuck is going on.”
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Help me? The bastard daughter of a mobster being investigated by the FBI and a grand jury? Yeah, right.
“No one can help me. But I’ll pay for the hotel. Just let me get out and I’ll get the money.”
He scowled down at me, clearly unhappy with my answer. “We’re way beyond you just handing me some cash and calling it good, cupcake. I want answers. You need me to fuck them out of you? Is that what you’re waiting for?”
The words came out in a growl, and I jerked away from the edge of the pool, not thinking about how plainly it would put me on display.
He reached for the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head.
“What? No. What are you doing?”
My voice was so high-pitched that I didn’t recognize it. I also didn’t recognize this even-rougher-than-normal Bishop before me. It was like someone had flipped a switch. I could practically feel the anger radiating off him.
“I’m coming in. Don’t want to get my clothes wet.”
I wrapped my arms around my body. No man had seen me fully naked . . . ever. I’d lost my virginity in a beach cabana with my cover-up still on, and he’d barely done more than unzip his khaki shorts.
Bishop crouched and unlaced his boots before kicking them off and removing his socks.
I should have been filled with fear, but when he reached for the button of his jeans, my mouth dried and any trace of apprehension disappeared. Heat flowed through me like the temperature of the pool water had been increased another twenty degrees when he lowered the zipper.
Was this the moment I was supposed to look away? Because there was no way I could do it. I wanted to see everything.
I thought of Kitty and how she’d practically licked her lips when she’d seen Bishop enter the room. I’d known what she wanted then, and apparently my body was on board for that same thing right now, even if my rational mind was screaming at me to cover my eyes.
He shoved off his jeans, and I expected boxers or briefs or even boxer briefs beneath them. Instead, there was just . . . Bishop.
A whole lot of Bishop.
Oh. My. God.
I’d seen porn; I wasn’t completely unacquainted with dicks. But I was also under the impression that dicks in porn were way larger than the average man. Apparently, I’d been misinformed, because Bishop was . . . big.
He was also totally shameless as he came toward the steps and walked down into the water.
“You’re really fucking quiet all of a sudden, cupcake.”
The word fucking, regardless of the context he used it in, sent my imagination tumbling into the gutter.
“Why . . . why are you doing this?”
“Because I can’t seem to get answers out of you any other way, and if we’re both naked, I’m a hell of a lot less likely to pick you up and shake them out of you—unless it’s going to make you come.”
My insides clenched.
“I would tell you if I could, but I swear it’s better if you don’t know.”
He stepped closer to me as I shrank back against the opposite wall of the pool from where I’d stood before.
“That’s just too fucking bad, because I’m not leaving without answers.”