9. Bishop
Charles fucking Davenport.
He thinks he’s the biggest and most important boss in this city, and as such, he calls on us any fucking time he feels like it. The asshole needs to be reminded where he falls in the New York food chain, and it’s well below us.
My father was brave enough to send Kaos and I to have this little chat with him, especially considering it’s two in the morning and I was asleep in the chair beside our guest’s bed when I got the call.
Something about her presence calms me. Watching her chest rise and fall steadily, her eyes fluttering in her sleep, it brought me peace, and it was nice not to have my thoughts running a mile a minute. The calm is unfamiliar but welcome, even if it is short-lived. In our line of work, the lulls are far outweighed by the storms, and that’s part of the reason we do it.
“What did he say he wants?” Kaos grumbles as he pulls up outside Davenport’s building. The asshole lives in the most ostentatious penthouse I’ve ever seen in my life, and although we have money now, it’s a world away from the life we grew up in. Cunts like Davenport really grind my gears with the useless bullshit they spend their money on. There are so many people in this city living below the poverty line, and if Davenport had it his way, there’d be even more.
The legitimate side of his business is development, and the number of buildings in poorer areas he’s bought up and kicked the residents out, uncaring about whether he was forcing families onto the street, makes me sick. I’m not a good person, but I know what it’s like at the bottom, and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Well, maybe men like Davenport, just so they can see what it’s like to live in poverty, to wonder where their next meal is coming from.
“He just said he needed to see us.” I shrug. I’m trying to slide my poker face into place. I’ve never had any issues in the past, but tonight is proving difficult.
“I’ve had enough of this motherfucker.” He slams the door of his Aston Martin closed so hard the sports car shakes under the force.
“That’s why we’re here,” I remind him. When I woke him up to come with me, he was half-asleep when I was explaining why we were leaving the compound in the middle of the night in the dead of winter, just another reason to hate Davenport.
“It’s like he thinks we’re his fucking lap dogs.”
“Yep.”
“Doesn’t he know he works for us?”
I chuckle as we step into the lobby, the warmth immediately surrounding us and taking the chill off. “It seems he needs to be reminded.”
“You’d think he’d know, seeing as he pays us every month for the privilege of running in our city.” Kaos shakes his head as we step into the elevator. Grumpy Kaos is always a source of amusement for the rest of us, especially Kovu, and it’s exactly what I need to ease the annoyance of this little fieldtrip.
“You’d think.” I chuckle, but there’s nothing funny about the way Davenport and the other families forget who’s in charge around here. It’s our city, and I won’t hesitate to remind every single one of these motherfuckers that they’d be best to remember that.
We ride the elevator in silence, all the way to the top floor. Sixty-seven goddamn levels. Like I said, ostentatious. When we reach the top, we step out into his living room, and I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. This isn’t the first time I’ve been summoned here in the last decade since we took control of the city, but I swear he gets more vases every time I step foot into this penthouse.
“Gentlemen.” Charles greets us with a wide smile, but it’s fake like everything else the man does. He’s a snake in the grass, the monster lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike, but he forgets the company he keeps. “I’m so glad you were able to make it on such short notice.”
“Didn’t have much choice,” Kaos mutters.
“What is it we can do for you, Charles? It’s late,” I say bluntly. There’s no room for niceties at three in the morning, and although I’m the diplomatic one, there’s only so much diplomacy I can show in the early hours of the morning.
“Please, have a seat and join me for a drink.” He gestures toward the living area, where a large modular leather couch fills the room. It’s only Charles that lives here, but this fucking couch could seat the starting lineup of the Knicks and the Nets and still have room for a few of his staff.
“No, thank you,” I reply, crossing my arms across my chest. “As I’m sure you can appreciate, it’s late, and we’d like to get home.”
“Of course. I’ll jump right to the chase then.” He walks to the couch and returns a moment later with an envelope in his hand. “I appreciate your help in ensuring De Marco was properly punished for breaking the contract we signed nineteen years ago, but sadly, I need your assistance once more.”
Kaos tenses beside me, his anger palpable. He’s right, this motherfucker has forgotten who works for whom.
“Charles.” I interrupt him before he can continue. I don’t want to listen to another word of his bullshit. “I think perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding. We don’t work for you. In fact, in terms of the food chain in this city, you’re below us, and therefore, if anyone would be doing anyone else favors, it would be you doing them for us. Now, if you don’t mind, we must get back.”
Kaos and I turn toward the elevator. I’m fucking pissed I was dragged away from the girl for this, but at least we’ve said what we needed to say, and the next time this asshole asks for something, I’ll give Kovu full permission to do whatever the fuck he wants to the cunt.
“It’s about the De Marco girl,” he tells us, and for some reason I stop in my tracks. “Some of my guys roughed her up a bit before I could give them instructions, and the idiots assumed she was dead because her breathing was so shallow, but when the clean-up crew went to pick her up, she was nowhere to be found.”
My eyes snap up to meet Kaos’s. It couldn’t be…
“Do you have a photo of the girl?” he asks. “So we can keep an eye out for the body?”
I turn around in time to see Charles holding a photo out to us, and I snatch it from him before Kaos can. I stare down at the image for long moments, allowing myself to process what I’m looking at.
Our houseguest isn’t just some woman fleeing a bad situation.
She’s Camilla De Marco, and everything just got a whole lot more complicated.