Chapter 6

six

. . .

Bishop

N ow that Volkov had made a move, it was more important than ever to keep Cross in my sights. Even if Walker hadn't asked me to tag along tonight, I'd have been here. I recognized the wild look in Cross's eyes—I'd worn the same expression more than once—the man was about to snap. That's why I was being choked by a damn tie and toying with the rim of my untouched whiskey glass as I sat in this fancy steak house a table away from him.

He hadn't noticed me. I'd been led in after him, and he had his back to me. The hope was we'd keep it that way. Neither of us could afford a public blowup if he decided he wanted me gone. Me for the obvious reasons, even though my cover was barely intact these days, but also because we were trying to keep things about River under wraps. We'd all agreed it was safest for her that way.

Unfortunately, hotheads were all the same. Unpredictable.

That went for the Russian as well as Cross. There was no telling what those two were liable to do, which made me twitchy.

How was I supposed to keep anyone safe when the only thing I could predict with any certainty was trouble?

Cross shifted in his chair, an irritated sigh escaping him as he glanced at his watch.

"Fucking ten minutes late, you bastard. I don't have time for this," he muttered, so low I almost couldn't make it out.

He pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. I glanced down at mine, clearly seeing the message he was typing thanks to the software my buddy helped me install on the sly. One click on a discreet little app icon, and his phone was completely mirrored on my screen. There'd be hell to pay if he ever found out.

Cross:

Is this guy always fucking late?

Walker:

Ted? Yeah, usually by a few minutes.

Cross:

If he's not here in five, I'm calling it and the deal is off the table.

Walker:

Fair.

Without warning, he closed his messages and clicked on his photo gallery. Dozens of images of River filled the screen, and my hand tightened reflexively on my phone. Cross chose one at random—so far as I could tell anyway—and her smiling face peered back at me.

Holy fuck, I missed her.

It'd been two weeks, and already it felt like something vital within me had been lost.

Sterling was long gone, replaced by the unfeeling and soulless shell of a man I'd been in the days following my rescue. I was in survival mode, doing any and everything I could to pass the time while waiting to get her back.

All that mattered was the mission.

Cross's phone went black, and my attention shot back to the scene in real time. He'd gotten to his feet, slipping his cell into the breast pocket of his blazer. A tall man with a thick mustache approached, a wide smile on his face and one hand resting on the hip of his companion, a statuesque Black woman with curves that rivaled a back road. I raised an eyebrow at the way he looked at her as he held out her chair. Sonofabitch had a solid reason for being late.

"Sorry I'm late, Daniel. Tracy had some trouble with her dress." Ted offered a hand, but Cross didn't shake.

"Call me Cross. Daniel was my father, and I'd like it to stay that way."

"Oh, sure thing, Cross. I get it. I'm named after my granddaddy, but I never wanted to be called Theodore."

"Although he lets me get away with Teddy every once in a while," Tracy said with a stunning smile.

I wouldn't be surprised to learn the woman graced the pages of fashion magazines. How the hell Ted managed to score her was a mystery for the ages.

Cross must have thought the same, though he didn't offer more than a soft grunt.

"So where's your lady wife? I told Tracy this was a double date. Husbands talk shop, wives talk... whatever they want." Ted smiled, stepping right in it with no fucking idea it was the worst possible question he could ask.

Cross's shoulders stiffened, climbing up around his ears, and as I watched, he tucked his hands into his lap, curling them into tight fists to mask the trembling of his fingers. "Away."

Ted cocked one brow. "Already? You a snorer? I'll tell you a secret, invest in a solid set of earplugs for her, or even better, I got Tracy a headband with little speakers in it. She listens to her audiobooks, and I can snore away."

"Well, aren't you just a fucking delight?" Cross grumbled before raising his hand and signaling for service.

"Was it something I said?" Ted asked softly, his voice only just reaching me as he angled his head toward his woman.

She soothingly ran a hand over his chest, shaking her head slightly. "Think you touched a nerve, babe." She gave him a sweet kiss. "I wouldn't worry about it. Cross here has a bit of a reputation for being a jackass."

I had to bite back a smile at her assessment. The censure in her words was unmistakable. Cross better watch out. She was liable to come after him if he spoke out of turn about her husband. Something about the entire exchange made me think of River, and just that quick, my smile fell, my heart giving a dejected little pang.

The waitress bounded over, hearts in her eyes for the broody cowboy who'd summoned her. "What can I get you, Mr. Cross? Another of the same?"

"Yes, and whatever they're having."

"Nothing fancy for me, just an Arnold Palmer, thanks. I'm responsible for driving this pretty lady home." Ted tilted his head toward his wife. "You want the usual, babe?" Tracy nodded, so he continued chattering at the server, "A glass of your finest Pinot Gris, please." Then he chuckled. "Never gets old. I do love me a rhyme."

Cross had to be in agony. He was the grumpy to this man's sunshine. A match made straight in hell. I, however, was in heaven. This was way more entertaining than I could have ever hoped, and damn if I hadn't needed some levity.

"So, how's it been since your daddy handed you the reins? You holding up okay?" Ted asked.

Coming from anyone else, this could have been considered a dig or prying. But this man radiated genuine concern. He was like a golden retriever that just wanted you to pet his soft underbelly. If I wasn't witnessing it with my own eyes, I'd never believe a person could be this kind without any sort of agenda.

The man was the human equivalent of a hug. The sliver of my soul that was still untainted decided then and there he needed to be protected at all costs.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Cross bit out, accepting his fresh drink with barely more than a nod of thanks to the waitress.

"Well, losing him, gaining your wife, Walker getting hurt so bad in that tractor accident... It's enough to shake anyone. I guess I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I know when my own dad died, I tried real hard to pretend I was fine, but it ate me up inside. If not for Tracy here, I'd still be a blubbering mess."

Cross shook his head, as if he couldn't believe a grown man would admit such a thing—at a business dinner, of all places. But I could see Ted was starting to wear him down. He released a breath and relaxed slightly.

"Yeah. It's been a lot."

Ted leaned forward, as if waiting for the rest of the confession. But it wasn't coming. Cross wouldn't air his dirty laundry even if he owned the damn laundromat. He was as tight-lipped as they came. Especially when it came to his family.

Or his feelings.

The only person he seemed to let his walls down for was River.

"You'll be okay. Eventually."

Cross cleared his throat, leaning back and taking a sip of his drink, then said, "We're not here to talk about personal things. Walker said you have an investment opportunity for us. Hit me with your best shot."

Ted lit up like a kid in a candy store as he dove into his pitch, but I was willing to bet Cross didn't hear a single word. Because none other than Dominik fucking Volkov chose that exact second to walk into the restaurant. His eyes lasered in on Cross, as if he'd known exactly where he'd be sitting, and his lips twisted up in a knowing smirk.

Shit.

This was no freak coincidence. That asshole was making a power play right here in front of half the upper-class members of this community. Most of them entangled with his organization in one form or another, even if they didn't realize it. On instinct, I touched the gun holstered at my side.

This was going to get messy. Fast.

I had to get Cross out of here.

And then I needed to figure out how to put a tail on Volkov without getting myself killed.

Our lead had turned out to be a dead end. Seeing the man here, in the flesh, told me he'd probably had that lead planted. He was onto us. Not just Cross, but the agents looking into him.

Motherfucker.

Before I could anticipate it, Cross shoved his chair back so hard it fell to the floor with a crash.

"Where is she, you prick? Where are you hiding her?" he shouted, two hundred plus pounds of enraged alpha male as he made to lunge across the table at the monster who'd stolen our woman.

I was behind him in an instant, one arm around his chest, restraining him. Cross struggled against my hold as Volkov let out a patronizing laugh.

"Lost your wife already, Cross? So much for a happy couple."

"I swear to God, if you hurt her, I will rain hell down on you tenfold."

Volkov laughed, a deep rumbling chuckle that only incensed Cross further.

Ted watched this all unfold with wide eyes, his body protectively placed in front of his wife, who I'd clocked when she palmed a steak knife from the table.

"Not here, Cross," I whispered. "You have to let him go right now."

He continued to fight my hold. "Like hell I will, that bastard?—"

"I know exactly what that bastard has done. But this is what he wants. If you attack him here, he wins. There's more than a dozen witnesses that will claim you went after him unprovoked. You'll get thrown in jail for assault, and you're useless to her there."

"Unprovoked?" he spat.

"No one else knows he has River. To them, it will look like you were the one who started it."

Cross growled but backed down. "I'm good. Let me go."

I stepped away but kept myself close enough that I could stop him if Volkov tried another dig, but the big Russian had already walked away, taking a seat in a corner booth with a self satisfied grin.

"Come on, let's get out of here. None of this is helping our girl." I clapped him on the shoulder and prayed he'd see reason. Everything in me wanted to pummel Volkov until he talked, just like Cross, but I knew it wouldn't do any good.

Cross gave a tight nod, pulling out his wallet and dropping a couple hundreds on the table. "Apologies, but I need to cut our meeting short. Please enjoy dinner on me. I'll have my assistant follow up to reschedule."

Ted nodded, smoothing out his tie as he settled back in his seat. "Good call. Tensions are running a mite high at the moment. Best to regroup and chat when we can both focus. You just go relax. I'm not going anywhere."

It took me two tries, but Cross followed me out of the restaurant, both of us vibrating with adrenaline. When we hit the parking lot, he turned to me, anguish on his face.

"We have to get her back, Bishop. That fucker is taunting us. He doesn't think we'll beat him."

"We will."

"How?"

I shook my head, understanding the quiet devastation better than he knew. "Patience. Strategy. Backup. All things we don't have right now."

"And you don't care that he's probably done horrible things to her? Because every fucking minute that passes means he has another chance to hurt her."

Grabbing him by the collar, I shoved him against the side of his truck. "Never say that to me again. I'm doing what you seem to be unable to—searching for her, planning her rescue. We will find her. You have to trust me."

"Why should I trust you? You've been lying to me from day one, and your promises don't mean shit. Your leads are garbage. Your contacts can't find anything. What the fuck good are you, Bishop? From where I'm sitting, you're just letting him take her all over again. Whose side are you really on? It's like you want him to get away with it."

Finally at the end of my rope, I reared back and decked the fucker as hard as I could. Then, before he could get his bearings, I turned and walked to my waiting SUV. I didn't have time to fight with Cross in a parking lot. If he wanted to take on the entire Russian mob in a steakhouse on his own, so be it. I had a call to make, information to uncover, and a woman to save.

Because despite his baseless accusations, the only side I'd ever been on was hers.