Across town, the empty house in the Garden District had lights on for the first time in years. “You know you’re a pain in the butt, don’t you?” Ryder said, throwing himself into one of the folding camp chairs they’d brought in. “If I had any idea you were going to be such an asshole, I would have told Madsen to send someone else. Being cooped up with you has to rank with one of my worst assignments . . .”
“Not likely,” Bishop said, glancing up from the schematics he was looking over. The moldy Gothic mansion in the Garden District was going to need a complete gut job, both for the damp and the complicated infrastructure needed for any outpost of the Committee, and he’d been staring at the sketches spread out on the makeshift table for hours without really seeing anything. “You forget, I was with you in Chechnya, not to mention that mess in Lyons. We barely made it out alive.”
“I’d take being shot at over putting up with a lovesick idiot.”
“Fuck off,” Bishop snapped, pushing the papers away from him. “The only reason she’s still here is that you haven’t taken care of business. Find one way for me to get a shot at His Eminence and this will all be over.”
“I think that was going to be Claude’s job,” Ryder pointed out.
“Well, Claude isn’t here, is he?” Bishop’s voice was like ice.
“No, he’s not. And if you think the Corsinis don’t know exactly where you are, then you’re even more of a fuckhead than I thought. There’s no reason to keep your little wife on ice . . . They don’t need her to get to you and you know it.”
“Shut up about my wife,” Bishop snapped. “It’s not safe.”
“Yeah, right. You going to tell me you aren’t just as much a fool for that woman as your dog is?”
Merlin lifted his head. He’d taken to sleeping by the door, clearly waiting for Bishop to take him back where he belonged, with Evangeline. Since no one was heading in his direction, he dropped his head back with a heavy canine sigh.
“If I were fool enough to let myself get emotionally twisted over some damned woman, I’d have been dead long ago,” Bishop said repressively.
Ryder laughed. “You didn’t fall in love before. Don’t bother denying it—I recognize the signs. I’ve seen far too many good men laid low by it. If I thought there was a chance in hell of curing you, I’d do it, but you’re too far gone. It’s a chronic condition and you’ll never get rid of it, so you may as well get used to it.”
“Give me a break. You know as well as I do that there’s no room in our lives for normal relationships.”
“Shit, I don’t think you’d know a normal relationship if it came up and bit you on the ass. No offense, Merlin,” Ryder added when the dog lifted his head again. “Neither of us is cut out for a normal life, but you let your guard down, and now you’re moping around like some fucking teenager . . .”
“Don’t annoy me.” There was no missing the very real danger in Bishop’s voice.
“Look, we’re wasting our time. We need to concentrate on shutting down His Eminence, not arguing about who wants to go steady with his best girl. Shit or get off the pot. You’re in love with her. Either take her or let her go.”
“She’d end up with a target on her back . . .”
“She already has a target on her back, Bishop,” Ryder said, clearly exasperated. “And she always will, no matter how far away from her you keep yourself. The safest place for her to be is with you—you’re about the only one who can protect her. Well, I could, but I’m not interested in the job.”
His sudden surge of jealous rage shocked Bishop. “Go near her and I’ll cut your throat.”
“Did you hear me? Not interested. Never will be—women have two uses in this life: to sleep with or work with. That’s it, and the two lines don’t cross. If you don’t get your ass in gear and do something about her then I will. If you aren’t going to take her, then it’s time for her to go
back to Iowa or wherever she comes from.”
Bishop controlled his temper with an effort. “And what the hell makes you think she’d come back with me? I’ve done everything I could to drive her away.”
“You’ll never know until you find out.” He pushed back from the table. “You coming with me?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Odila didn’t return. Evangeline tried not to look at the clock, but she knew that Jenkins had left around eleven, and it couldn’t have been more than two hours later that Odila had gone after him. It was almost three in the morning now, the noise of the city was dying down, and she was still alone.
Maybe it was simply Bishop’s way of getting rid of her. He’d called off his watchdogs long enough to let her escape so he wouldn’t have to be troubled with any messy scenes. This way he could keep Merlin and never have to deal with unpleasant trifles like emotions and a lovesick female.
Lovesick? She wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t really find it funny. She’d had a lot of time to think during the past week—and she’d twisted herself inside out trying to avoid the ugly truth, but it just kept popping up again, inescapable. No matter how big a bastard he was, no matter how he tricked and lied and manipulated her, no matter how clearly hopeless any kind of future was, she still loved him, and had never stopped, even when she thought he’d seduced her only to rob her.
She reached up and touched the diamond studs in her ears. Why had he held on to them? Clearly he hadn’t needed the money or he would have sold them—he’d simply needed an excuse to ditch her. But why keep them with him?
If he thought she was going to run away the first chance she got, then he was mistaken. He might be an emotional coward, but she wasn’t. She’d fucked up her life good and proper five years ago, and never had any closure. Oh, she could blame him, and God knows he’d been the one to instigate it, to lie and trick her.
But she wasn’t a victim. She had been dazzled by him, she’d tossed away all practicality and gone with him the moment he’d beckoned, and instead of giving herself a good kick in the ass and moving on with life once he left her, she’d moped and thrown herself into even worse relationships, culminating with her marriage to Pete.