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He nods. “I like to draw. You never knew that about me, huh?” When I stop fighting to escape his hold, he takes my moment of weakness and pulls me to the floor to sit in his lap. “My mom used to call me Doodlebug. She saved up for the longest time, bought me a fancy set of pencils and sketch paper, and that’s where I spent most of my youth; in those books.”
“The pencils,” I whisper. I remember the tin stashed under his couch. The pile of loose sheets of paper. “I found your pencils.”
His eyes soften. “Did you steal those the day you took my sweater? Because I wouldn’t be mad if you did. I’d give almost anything to have those back.”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes. “No. I left them there. I stole your sweater and had to hide it. You talked about your sweater, you said it was your favorite and you were so mad you forgot it, so I went with my father that day and stole it. But I didn’t know you loved your pencils. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head and breathes me in. “I started drawing again while I was living on the streets. There are a bunch of people in this world that paid two bucks for a drawing of you.” He leans back and chuckles. “It was a good plan at the time, but I see now how that’s kinda creepy. Sorry.”
I swipe a hand beneath my eye and laugh. “It’s okay. I doubt you sold many.”
“I sold thousands,” he inserts. “Thousands and thousands, and every time I sold one, I had to say goodbye to you. It was like I was selling you, and it broke my damn heart every time, but that money came in handy. I needed to eat, I needed to buy things.”
“Why would…” I hesitate. “Thousands? I don’t understand why anyone would want–”
“I understand,” he murmurs. “It’s your eyes, Libby. Dirty green like the forest floor in the rain. I sold all of those drawings, I said goodbye to each one, and over the years, I’ve tried to track them down again, to buy them back.” He grins. “Some people accept my offer and sell it back. Some even give them back free and clear. And many see that they have something I want, so they dig in hard and ask for a hell of a lot more than they paid.”
“And you still pay?”
He nods. “I don’t want to share you. So I pay whatever they’re asking, I take that drawing back and say hello to the nine-year-old version of you again.”
“I don’t…” My breath comes out on a whoosh. “What does this have to do with Griffin Industries?”
“I saved my pennies from the sales of your pictures, and I purchased computers to rebuild with that money. I was always skilled with computers, which my mother knew, and though she bought me pencils because she loved me, she directed me toward the computer stuff out of desperation. She knew, as an adult, which one would pay the bills. Every single cent I’ve ever had first began as a picture of your eyes, now my company turns over…” he pauses, grins. “Well, more than your cop brain wants to hear. It would only annoy you. But a lot. Griffin Industries makes alotof money, but I’ve never once forgotten it started with you. That’s the whole point here, Lib. Griffin isn’t dirty; every cent is legitimate. Every business deal is over the table, not under. We have auditors come in every single year to tear my books apart, and you know what?” His eyes flicker between mine. “They’re perfect. Griffin is a name to be proud of. The mighty lion, strong and brave and unafraid of any other that thinks they can step up and challenge me. Your name remains clean by knowing me.” He presses a kiss to my lips. Then another. They’re pecks, the kind where he’s trying to convince me this’ll work out. “I would never do anything to hurt you. Don’t you remember? I already made that promise.”
“I already told you,” I reply. “This has nothing to do with legitimate money anymore, and everything to do with how itlooks. I can’t know Theo. It would almost be easier if you were still a Bishop. It would still suck, and we’d probably still be having this conversation, because Tate and Bishop just can’t be seen together anymore. But it wouldalmostbe easier if you were a broke Bishop.” I climb out of his lap and let his hands drop. “Those other guys, Kane and Jay, they were Bishop’s sons too. And they’ve dirtied their hands. They’ve done bad things, they’ve hurt people. They’ve broken laws, and they’ve pissed my chief off so much he’s going to sprout gray hair. But they’re unapologetic about who they are. They walk in and declare they’re Bishops. They acknowledge that they’re sons of a prick. But they earn their place in this town.”
Theo’s eyes narrow the longer I speak. He climbs to his feet and unfolds his tall body so he resembles a bear more than a lion. “How well do you know them, Elizabeth?” He slowly stalks forward so my eyes focus on his flaring nostrils. “How close have you gotten with them over the years? It almost sounds like your loyalties have made themselves clear.”
“Loyal–no. I don’t know them.”
He backs me up against the wall and shoves my hands above my head. I see the lion now. I see the anger. I see the betrayal in his eyes.
“I never met them when I was a child.” I grunt and buck my hips when he leans in closer. “Let me go.”
“Whose side are you on, Lib? Did you have fun growing up with those boys?”
I meet his eyes. “No! I’m on no one’s side. I’m Switzerland.”
“That’s a convenient fucking place to be for the cop. You feel bad for the kid whose mother was raped and murdered, but not bad enough that you won’t stop being friends with the murderers.”
“Friends with the murderers? Get off me!” I buck my hips forward in an attempt to shove him off. “I’m not friends with anybody! That’s the whole damn point. I’m alone, Gunner. I’m me. I stick to myself and do my job, and I absolutely do not make friends with Bishops anymore.”
“Did you sit at their table, Elizabeth? Knowing Colum murdered my mother? Did you sit around the Christmas tree and open expensive fucking gifts and consider yourself Switzerland? You didn’t kill my mother, you weren’t the one to pull the trigger, which means it wasn’t your fault. The boy was dead too, right? And suddenly it doesn’t matter who killed who, because Christmas morning felt really fucking good when you opened all those shiny presents.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I cry out and slam my head back when he bites my jaw. My brain throbs, and my eyes water. “I never met those boys when I was a kid. I didn’t know Colum had other sons. I didn’t even know Colum’s name was Colum until I was a grown adult.”
“You called him Uncle!”
“I know I called him Uncle! I was a child, that’s what I was told to call him. He kept his soldiers in the dark, Theo. That’s all my father was to him; a soldier. I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know his face. You knew more than I did, but before you could tell me, you died.”
“How close are you and the Bishops now, Elizabeth? It’s really fucking important for me to know who has your loyalty.”
“We’re not close! If they know their father and mine were in business together, they’veneversaid. If they know I’m the daughter of a dirty cop, they’ve never said. In fact, before tonight, we have never had a private conversation at all. They stay on their side of town, and I stay on mine. I’ve never had to speak with them beyond a polite greeting in the street.”
“What private conversation did you have tonight?” He pushes his hips against mine until they dig in. “What took you an hour from when you pushed me out of that office until you came out again? With them,” he growls. “You walked out with them. What happened in that hour?”
“Nothing happened! I spoke with my chief, he tried to force me to sleep at his house tonight so they could keep an eye on my concussion. Then I left. Jesus, get off me!” I shove him and drag in a deep breath when he trips back a step. “You do not control the whole world. You do not control them. And you definitely do not control me. You were dead a couple hours ago. That boy that I loved and desperately wanted back; he was dead! Now he’s back, but you’re insane if you think you’re the same people. He was sweet, he stood up for me against bullies. He felt safe, and he made me desperately wish he never let go of my hand.Youare a fake. You’re a phony and a liar. You walk around using this fake-ass name, but you act like those of us that kept our blemished names are the bad people. We held on despite the shame our names carry. We’re trying to make them shine again, but you took the easy way out. You just made a new name up, and now you live the good life amongst your riches while the rest of us still deal with the shame.”
