Bishop

 

The old garage had been the perfect place to set up headquarters for the Cobra Kings when they had arrived in Rolling Hills five years ago. Built in the fifties, there was plenty of room indoors for the men to park their bikes out of the weather. For some reason Bishop had never been able to fathom, a second story had been built onto the place and was easily divided into apartments for the members. Out on the edge of town where nobody bothered them, it was simply ideal.

 

He loved the smell of generations of oil and fuel that constantly emanated from the concrete floor of the garage, and he strolled through the rows of bikes that morning, trying to focus on it. He needed to get his head on straight and stop thinking so damn much. It really wasn’t that difficult to be the president of an MC as long as you knew how to keep your men in line, and that was something Bishop was good at. What he wasn’t good at was figuring out why he couldn’t stop thinking about Lola Lennox.

 

She was a little blonde superstar, the kind of girl that didn’t belong in Rolling Hills or anyplace but Hollywood. She was the kind of person that every guy thought he wanted. But she was so difficult and stubborn that she wouldn’t be worth keeping a hold of. No, if Bishop were ever to settle down with a woman, she couldn’t be like that. He needed someone who had a little bit of a tough side so she could deal with the other MC members, but who was an absolute kitten in bed and submitted to his every whim. That would be perfect, and Lola didn’t fit the bill.

 

But he couldn’t deny the way the singing sensation had made him feel. Bishop had instantly snapped into guardian mode while her life was in danger. He’d tried to tell himself, as he had lain tossing and turning in bed the night before, that it was what any decent person would do. But if that was the case, he wouldn’t have tried so hard to get her to come with him, and he definitely wouldn’t have kissed her.

 

Bishop paused next to his bike and admired the cold metal. It was a machine that brought him great satisfaction and freedom, and yet it wasn’t enough today. He wanted to have the warm flesh of Lola’s lips pressed against his, or maybe pressed somewhere else on his body. She had felt so luscious in his arms as she had succumbed to his kiss, melting like a candle in his grasp. Bishop could have satisfied himself with any woman, but his body was obsessed with Lola. And there wasn’t anything he could do about it. She was probably long gone on a plane back to California, where she belonged.

 

“Boss!”

 

The voice from the other side of the garage was urgent, causing Bishop to turn immediately on his heel. He needed a distraction. “What is it?”

 

“Did you see this?” Sluice trotted across the garage floor, his tablet in his hand. He tapped the screen when he reached Bishop, displaying a video of a massive crowd. People of all ages—from young kids to adults—stood on a sidewalk, clapping and cheering. They held homemade signs in their hands, and news cameras were all over the place.

 

“This is the scene this morning outside the Magnolia Blossom Hotel,” a bland reporter’s voice narrated over the screams. “Since the press release last night about the attempt on singer Lola Lennox’s life, fans have put the information together and discovered that she’s staying right here in Rolling Hills. Police are asking everyone to be mindful of traffic and business, but that hasn’t stopped the crowd from continuing to grow. Eyewitnesses tell me that people have been congregating here since the early hours of the morning, and more have continued to come. Lola has reportedly looked out the window a couple of times but has not officially been seen other than that. Back to you, Chip.”

 

“Shit.” Bishop ran a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. So this wasn’t over. Not even close. “Shit, shit, shit.”

 

“I didn’t know how much it really mattered, but I thought you might like to know,” the VP explained. “At the very least, some of our men might be able to get security work out of it.”

 

“No way,” Bishop countered. “This is a celebrity we’re talking about. Those bodyguards aren’t going to let guys like us anywhere near her. They only want professionals, and that’s not us.”

 

“Okay.” Sluice turned off the screen and strode off toward the dining hall.

 

“Wait a second.” Bishop knew he couldn’t just let this go. He didn’t know just what he was going to do yet, but he had to do something. “Get the men rounded up. I want to have a meeting.”

 

“Yes, Boss.”

 

* * *

 

When the Cobra Kings had assembled, Bishop took a moment to just look at all of them. They were a fine set of men, all incredibly loyal. He also knew they were each skilled in their own ways, and he would have to use that to his advantage. “Men, we have a situation on our hands. I’m sure you all know that someone tried to kill Lola Lennox yesterday. I might not think too much of that if it happened somewhere else, but the fact remains that it happened here. That means we’ve got a criminal on our hands, and one who we haven’t approved of.”

 

The member laughed a little at that. The Cobra Kings weren’t exactly law-abiding citizens, but there was a big difference between exchanging some black-market goods to make money and shooting at an innocent person.

 

“I don’t think we can just stand by and let this go. We need to do something about it, and I know that you men have the talent to track this guy down. I want you to get out there and find out everything you know. Thanks to the news, we know where Lola is staying. That’s a great start. But I want to know just who the hell this guy was, and why he’s trying to kill her. Use your connections, talk to people, do whatever you have to do, but I want a full report by dinnertime.”

 

Nodding their agreeance and turning to talk to each other about plans, the meeting was adjourned. Bishop headed to his office, a small room off the garage that had once belonged to the garage manager back in the old days. It smelled of old rubber on hot days, but he didn’t mind. It was his private space, and a good place to think. He heaved his weight into the old leather chair and let it spin slowly. “Now,” he murmured to himself, “why would someone want to kill a woman like Lola?”