Chapter 9
BISHOP
There isn’t any time to act.
No opportunity to get the girls out through the back door and to safety.
He’s already here.
Already approaching us.
The Devil in the flesh.
Everyone at the table tenses as my hand curls around my gun at my hip, concealed by my jacket.
Gage stands just to my right, directly in the line of fire, completely oblivious to the fact that the man approaching us might be one of the most dangerous people on Earth.
Because he certainly doesn’t look it.
With his perfectly cut and styled silver hair, immaculately tailored Italian suit, and matching shoes the gleam under the lights of The Grind, he looks like he should be on the cover of a magazine.
But I know what lies underneath the slick exterior.
Pure fucking evil.
The Devil in disguise who uses his charm to hide his sinister intent.
Someone who’s willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants.
And what he wants is New Orleans—and more.
He came here on a revenge mission against the Hawkes, and he’s stayed to cement himself as the most powerful crime boss in the Gulf Coast. The only thing standing in his way now is our refusal to bend the knee.
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to pull my weapon and point it at him immediately, but a quick scan of The Grind tells me it would only cause panic and hysteria for the customers milling about and sitting at various tables casually enjoying a lazy morning.
Something we definitely don’t want.
After the explosion and shooting here, it’s taken Ang far too long to get things back to running normally. We don’t need to remind the public that this place has been attacked twice, or they’re going to steer clear of it.
Why tempt fate a third time?
That would ruin her business and permanently destroy her greatest joy in life—running this place.
I can’t do that to her, no matter how strongly all my instincts tell me to just end him now.
Satriano inclines his head at Angelina, who stands completely dumbstruck behind the counter clutching a coffee mug in her hand as he moves toward the table.
I keep my palm wrapped around the gun grip—just in case he leaves me no other option but to pull the trigger my finger has been itching to for so long.
When Satriano finally stops directly behind Jack and Kennedy and beside Gage, I hold my breath, staring down the man who has caused nothing but pain and anguish for this family for so long.
He offers a warm smile that anyone who didn’t know what he was might believe is genuine, but I see the monster that hides beneath it. “Well, if it isn’t the Hawke ladies, looking lovely as ever.”
His smooth, slightly accented voice floats over us, and any tension that we were all holding only increases ten-fold.
Astrid goes ghostly ashen, her hands fisting on the tabletop. Kennedy turns slightly and glares at him with a stiff spine, her knuckles white with her death grip on her mug. Jack does the same, one hand sliding below the table to rest over her belly protectively.
Of anyone at the table, Allie knows him best. Or at least knew him. Back when he was merely Damon, before she had Benjamin, when she was working here and he was still concealing his real identity.
He offers her a soft smile. “Alessandra…” Her name rolls off his tongue so beautifully that it almost sounds like poetry. “Bellezza, I do hope your bambino is doing well.”
She swallows thickly, casting a glance in my direction as if to ask, “What the fuck do I tell this man?” but I don’t have the slightest clue what the right move is when it comes to Satriano.
He did step in to help rescue her, Benjamin, Atlas, and Astrid from Daniele Roselli when he came for them, but it came at a price to Pope, one he still pays.
It leaves Allie and Pope in a strange and tenuous position with this man that there isn’t any clear way to handle. Or a way out of. At least, not yet.
Finally, Allie gives him a curt nod. “He’s good.”
“Eccellente! I haven’t needed to call on Pope recently”—he grins—“knock on wood…that’s the expression you Americans use, isn’t it? Well, it’s such a relief to know that I can, at any given moment, and any time of night, and he’ll come running to assist.”
It isn’t a compliment toward my brother or his medical skills.
It’s another reminder that he has an invisible hold on Pope, and that he’s going to pull on it if he needs to in order to remind him, and all of us, who is in control.
Damiano’s eyes sweep over the table again, lingering on Astrid for a few seconds with a tension at the corners of his mouth before his focus moves to Jack and Kennedy. “It’s nice to see that you ladies are all doing well.”
Kennedy snorts. “No thanks to you, asshole.”
She doesn’t bother to say it under her breath, just looks the man dead in his eyes as she throws her contempt for him squarely in his face.
I cringe.
Of course she would antagonize this monster.
Kennedy’s spitfire attitude has always served her well in her role at The Hawke Enterprises office and as the heir apparent to running everything one day, but when we’re facing a man like Satriano, it’s more like she’s poking a bear who could snap at us any second.
But he doesn’t react, just continues to smile at her. “And how is Cass?”
He asks the question so casually in response to her ire, but we all know what it really is: a reminder that Cass betrayed him, that he’s on the top of his shit list and that all has most certainly not been forgiven between them.
Kennedy plasters on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, batting her thick, black lashes at him. “Better than you’re going to be in a minute when Bishop gets done with you.”
Fuck.
The man’s gaze flicks to me and he grins, then his eyes sweep up to Gage standing beside him and just behind me. “And who’s your friend?”
Shit.
Gage’s hand brushes my shoulder, as if he’s trying to give me a physical reminder that he’s backing me up.
He may not know who Satriano is or why, but he senses the problem without me even having to say a word or look at him.
“None of your business.” It’s the only answer I can give, because the last thing I want to do is drag Gage into our shit. “What do you want, Satriano?”
The fucker smiles broadly, motioning toward the mugs on the table casually.
“I came in for one of those wonderful cappuccinos Angelina makes.” He glances over at her behind the counter where she stands stock-still, watching everything unfold with sheer terror racing through her gaze.
“Ang, principessa, can I get my regular?”
Her hand trembles as she sets down the drink she was working on and gives him a sharp nod. She watches us out of the corner of her eye, occasionally glancing toward the front windows that we all know Jude can see straight through from their condo or the book shop.
If he saw Satriano, he will have alerted the family by now.
Which means the cavalry is on the way.
Unless Jude has his head buried in a book or in his computer, working on his own, or is busy with a customer and missed the arrival of our greatest enemy.
When Satriano turns back to me, he crosses his hands behind his back in a casual move, but all it does is expose the grip of the gun at his hip underneath that perfectly tailored jacket.
“I’ve missed this place.” Another sly smile spreads across his face.
“Now that I’m back in town, this was my first stop. ”
Because he wanted to make the threat to the most vulnerable members of the family.
He wanted to prove that he could get to us.
And he did.
Far too easily.
He just waltzed straight in.
The security personnel who escorted all the girls here today remained in their vehicles on the street since I’m in here to guard them, and as I glance at the glass windows lining the front, I can see them watching everything unfold, debating if they should come in or if I have everything handled.
You should have handled it before he even got in here.
But I know why they didn’t.
The same reason I give them an almost imperceptible shake of my head now.
I don’t want to escalate anything, and they didn’t want to draw on him with customers around and risk a shootout.
But my hand doesn’t leave my gun.
I stare up at him, doing my best to keep my voice level. “Well, as soon as you have your drink, you can leave.”
His silver brows rise. “Speaking of drinks, did you receive my gift?”
Kennedy scowls at him. “Kind of cheaped out, didn’t you?”
Jesus…
Stop antagonizing him!
I want to scream it at her, but I grit my teeth instead to keep from doing just that.
He chuckles low. “I didn’t realize you had such expensive taste. Next time I’ll try to do better.”
“There won’t be a next time.” My warning comes out as cold as ice, and his hard, dark eyes shift to meet mine. “You’re going to walk out of here, and you’re going to leave us alone.”
Gage’s hand brushes my shoulder again in warning, but I’ve already said it. It’s already hanging out there, and I didn’t bother to veil my threat, either.
At this point, the game has gotten old and stopped being fun a long time ago, at least from our side. Satriano appears to still enjoy it, though.
He merely smiles again. “Bishop, I’ve always appreciated how unwavering you are in your desire to protect your family. It’s admirable, really.”
His gaze flicks to Astrid again and lingers there, and I know what he’s thinking.
That I failed that night, when she and Atlas were shot, when Allie and her son and Kennedy were all put at risk.
How ultimately, it was his intervention that got Astrid and Atlas the help that they needed before they bled out on that warehouse floor because he distracted Dan enough to allow Gabe, Dad, and I to do what we do best and take out the fuckers holding them one by one.
I grit my teeth, trying desperately not to say something that’s going to antagonize the man even more, and Ang walks over with a to-go cup in her trembling hands and holds it out for him without a word.