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Bishop takes another drag from his cigarette.

“I'm surrounded by assholes,” Pierce mutters.

I almost smile.

He gives me a few more instructions before finally packing his things.

I pull my shirt back on.

Bishop waits until Pierce leaves before speaking. “Scene is clean.”

I look at him.

“No police interest. Nothing tying you to the property. Nothing tying the property to us.”

“Anything come up on the man who stabbed me?”

“No.”

“Anyone sniffing around? Family? Boss?”

“Nope.” He pulls my keys from his pocket and tosses them to me.

I catch them, the familiar weight landing in my palm.

“There,” Bishop says. “You're officially no longer grounded.”

“Fuck you.”

He smiles.

I stare at the keys, then close my hand around them.

Bishop watches me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“So are you.”

He takes another drag.

I don't like the look on his face.

“What?”

“Where are you headed?”

“Away from here.”

“Specific.”

“You my travel agent now?”

“No.”