Page 9 of King

Bishop walks in and watches me climb off Lucas’s lap.

“That your blood or his?” He points at my pants, and I curse.

“His,” I sigh at my ruined designer clothes.

“She stab you?” Bishop looks at Lucas but points at me, making me frown.

He nods with a goofy grin.

“Love hurts.” The retired priest nods at Lucas’s words.

“Amen.”

CHAPTER FIVE

KING

“Done,”the man Gianna called Bishop looks more like a biker than the retired priest he claims to be.

He just spent the last twenty minutes cleaning me up before stitching the wound my girl gave me closed.

“This goes without saying. However, considering I’m here, maybe you need a vocal reminder that this kind of blood play has dire consequences.” I snort at his words as Gianna cures in Italian again.

“If you are done giving unsolicited advice about our sex life, you have another patient.” She points at her belly, making Bishop arch a brow.

“How’d you get her pregnant if she likes to stab you?” I smile and wink at her.

I slowly lift up my right pant leg.

“Cost me a leg.” H snickers as I tap the metal revealed.

“For fuck sake,” Gianna rolls her eyes.

“Too soon?” I chuckle, but her look tells me I probably went too far.

Oh well.

Laughing is better than crying, and I’ve done enough of that for a fucking lifetime.

“Not sure it was worth it, Mate,” Bishop says as he points to the couch.

“Lay down, big momma. Let’s take a look at what you got cooking.” Fury crosses Gianna’s face as she does as she’s told.

“Why the fuck do I keep you around,” she huffs as she tries to get comfortable.

“I’m cheap, discreet and have excellent bedside manner. Show me some skin.” That makes me arch a brow.

“Careful Bishop. I don’t take kindly to men asking my wife to stripe for them.” He snorts.

“Dude, we’re sitting in the back of a stripe club. It’s literally her business to take off her clothes. But I am a professional, and if you want to see your kid, this needs to touch her stomach. So, off with the shirt. Keep the bra so I’m not stabbed next.” He picks up a wand-looking device and squirts a blue jelly on it.

The small TV monitor comes to life, and I look at a black-and-white screen with a wave of appreciation. It’s one thing to know a thing, and it’s another to see it. The moment the wand touches Gianna’s belly, sound fills the room.

It’s all static for a few moments until a rapid whooshing sound comes into sharp, echoing clarity. It’s the sound of fatherhood.

“That’s my kid,” I say, looking at the screen funny.

It’s just a grey blob.

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