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Screwing up my nose, I finally reached for the envelope, slipping my finger in under the flap and tearing it open.
There was a single piece of paper inside.
A check.
“What is…” I started to ask, but as I pulled it out and took note of the dollar amount written on it, every brain cell I had seemed to explode. “How… where… what…”
Fifty thousand dollars.
It was a check for fifty thousand dollars.
I held it pinched between my fingers as I looked up at Bishop. His expression hadn’t changed. He just continued pulling the plastic off the stack of plates like he hadn’t just handed me almost more money than I saw from a year of working at the hospital.
“You’re gonna have to give me something here,” I pleaded with him, flapping the paper in the air. “Bishop, seriously…”
He let out a heavy sigh. “When Evan Hersh came to me and asked the club to find his daughter, he promised to pay for her safe return. He paid up, and the club decided since it was actually you who put your ass on the line to make sure she was safe, then the money was all yours.”
“No, no, no,” I replied, shaking my head as I placed the check back on the table and slid it away. “I did that because it was the right thing to do. I don’t want to take any money for it.”
Bishop rolled his eyes dramatically. “It’s not like the man is hurting for it. He’s a multimillion-dollar businessman who was only too happy to pay whatever the hell the price was to get his daughter back. You got her back.”
I had.
And I’d paid for it myself with some bruises and a little bit of my sanity.
But I still didn’t want the money.
“I’m not taking it. The club needs to keep it. Buy all the boys a round.”
“A round…” he repeated, clearly amused.
“Bishop. I don’t need the money.” Lie. Who didn’t need fifty grand? “I just… I don’t want it.”
I understood the club being paid for the man hours and the risks they faced while they searched for Alice, but I literally stumbled over her by chance.
I didn’t deserve that money.
“I’m sure it would do so much more good if the club used it for something,” I insisted when he didn’t reply, continuing to busy himself as if we were having a casual conversation about the weather or what we watched on television last night. “Aren’t you thinking about opening another bar soon? I’m sure it would help with that.”
“Hawk told me the other week you were looking for extra hours at the bar, needing to make some extra money.”
I shifted uncomfortably. I’d been hoping to ignore any conversations about Ali until I could figure out how to talk to him about getting the hell away from that toxic asshole, Jason. “It was for my brother. He asked if he could borrow some money because Jason was going to give him a job, but seems like all he’s done is just get Ali addicted to the drugs he’s selling.” I curled my hand into a fist, frustrated with myself for thinking Jason could do anything but fuck up people’s lives. “I just wanted to get it to him as fast as possible without leaving myself short.”
I had a little money in the bank. If there was one thing I’d learned from my past, it was always to have something put away for emergencies. I lived pretty comfortably on what I made from work and didn’t touch my emergency fund unless there was no other option.
“Jason’s the one who slipped those pills in your bag.” The way his voice tightened let me know that wasn’t a question. He remembered, and honestly, I was glad I wasn’t the only one who felt pure rage now anytime I heard that asshole’s name. “Anything else you wanna tell me about him?”
I leaned back in my chair, releasing a weak laugh. “Other than I’d like him out of mine and my brother’s lives forever, there’s not much to say. Ali can be an idiot, and I get frustrated with him, but when push came to shove, he did step up for me. It’s hard to watch him slowly be destroyed by someone who he thinks is his friend.” I noted the way Bishop’s eyes darkened and seemed to float away from me as if he was lost in his thoughts.
That wasn’t unusual.
He was a man of few words, and often, the ones he didn’t say were the most important.
Which was why I suddenly found myself on my feet and in front of him, tugging on his hand. “That was not me asking you to step in and do something.”
His eyes fell to meet mine.
They were light that day, the color almost like a fog or mist on a winter morning—soft and airy around the edges but also somewhat ominous.
