Page 136 of Bad Bishop
“Of course,” she said diligently. “Unlike you,Idon’t mind admitting I love Lila.”
“She’s going to have around-the-clock security,” I ignored her dig. “Plus, I hired Ransom Lockwood’s company to do patrols around the neighborhood, so all I need is for you to keep her company and take her to her OB-GYN appointment.”
“Gotcha.”
“I’ll see what I can do about Achilles.”
I turned around, scanning her face. She looked exhausted, but also tough as nails.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
“But I mean it, Tierney. Don’t fuck with the feds. If you do, I won’t be able to save you. Not this time.”
A sad smile touched her lips. “I know.”
_______
My next stop was a sex shop.
I was only going to be gone for a couple days, but Lila needed to sleep, and she couldn’t do that without at least two orgasms.
I’d put her to bed every night for the past few months after pleasuring her with my tongue and cock. She was dependent on it. It was a habit we’d need to break at some point. But that point was going to comeafterI killed the Rasputins and found her rapist.
Besides, I’d met worse chores.
At the store, I purchased a suction vibrator and a wand massager. I steered clear of mammoth-sized dildos. The mere thought of something else inside her made my eye twitch. I could barely come to terms with the fact the baby was going to come out of her cunt.
Thebaby.
Now that we were a few weeks shy of his arrival, all sorts of thoughts crept into my head.
We did not think this arrangement through.
What if he were another race? Half Asian? Black? Pacific Islander? A dead giveaway I wasn’t the father? My entire suspect list was Caucasian, but there was a vast different between Italian Caucasian and Irish Caucasian.
What if she’d pour all her love and attention on the baby and forget about me?
Yes, I was jealous of an unborn baby.
No, I wasn’t above such notions.
I all but stomped my way back home, clutching the discreet sex shop bag in a chokehold. When I walked in, I spotted Imma in the kitchen, making pasta and singing out of tune in Italian.
“Imma,” I barked. “Take the evening off.”
She looked up from the boiling tomato sauce, startled. “Where would I go?”
“Do I look like a fucking tour guide?” I gestured to my face. “Have my driver take you to the movies. Or drive you up and down the street in circles. I don’t care.”
She gave me a disgruntled glare, but didn’t argue.
I found Lila in our bedroom, drawing. She looked up from her sketchbook when I entered. Set her pencil down and flipped the sketchbook over on her nightstand.
“When are you leaving?”
I could hear her disapproving tone through her hand gestures alone. The only other person I knew so thoroughly, so completely, was Tierney.
“About an hour. Plane’s engine is already running.”
