DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

cars, and a home in Puerto Rico. He uses low-lives to make his fortune. I doubt he’s ever stepped foot here to collect a thing in his life.”

“Sounds like your type,” he grumbles. “You’ll fit right in.”

“You don’t know my type.” I pat his chest harder than necessary like a petty asshole. “But, if you still wanna play the husband card, you can keep watch while I hack into his computer. You know, making yourself useful and all.”

“I’m divorcing you, wife,” he ventures flatly. “You didn’t work out for me the first time.”

“The first time?” I repeat, twisting my face in repugnance. “You mean when you fucked Blue because I needed you to be open with me?”

“We broke up,” he retorts through a growl.

“Then divorce me for real.” Bishop’s nostrils flare, and I swear to God he’s going to kill me one day. Just whip out a blade and slit my throat so he can watch me bleed out for him.

He’s a sick fuck like that.

“I’ll think about it,” he dismisses. “In the meantime, if you need the backup, I guess instead of sending Marty or Mills, I should go to make sure that shit is done right.”

“Oh, Bishop, you really think I’d go somewhere with you alone without one of the guys? I’d fucking kill you.”

He closes another inch between us so that I have to crane my head back more to meet his clear blues. “I’d love to see you try. I’m extremely curious about your methods.”

“Mhm.” My lips coil in a shitty smile. “I’m sure you would. In fact...bring your girlfriend, she loves to fuck my brothers just to see me get all pissed off, so maybe you’ll get your wish.”

Yeah, Blue did that.

Invite a bitch to your family birthday party and walk in on her deep throating your brother’s dick in your childhood bedroom.

I mean, why would we pick the bathroom with a lock or maybe his room.

Blue keeps striking out with me left and right, literally fucking me over with the men in my life.

“Does it involve your lips wrapped around my dick or you talking me to death?”

You see, I never can fully read this asshole.

One moment it appears that he loathes me. The next, he wants to fuck my brains out, and my body is cheering the idea on with pom pops and a full marching band.

“My Wushu Whip chain.”

“Choking was never a fetish of mine, but I’ll try anything at least once with you, Ems.” His chest presses into mine but gently, attempting to erase why I should be annoyed with him. “Just tell me when. It’ll more than likely be the last time you get fucked good in your life.”

“Who says I can’t do it all by myself? I don’t need a man to make me come.”

Bishop’s lips curl. “Now, you’re just being a tease.” His hand latches around my waist, searing the skin underneath. “Come inside and eat, and we’ll talk about a plan.”

I shake my head and take a step back, crossing my arms over my chest to protect me from everything him. 

The push and pull effect that I get from Bish is exhausting. I came back here as a favor because he’s family, not someone who belongs to me. I need to start hammering it into my brain more and more. Maybe tattoo it in my palm so I can look down at it every time I catch myself drooling.

“I already have one,” I assert confidently.

“And I don’t like the sound of it.”

“Kace,” chimes a small voice behind him. He doesn’t turn around, but I don’t require him to because it’s a female and not Scarlett. “Lunch is set up.”

“I’m coming,” he deadpans, gaze still honed in on me.

If he wants a staring contest, he picked the wrong one, two older brothers—need I say more?

“Text me when you’re—”

“Why would I need to text you when you’re right here?” he challenges with a raised brow. “Don’t you like spending time with me, wife?”

“No,” I reply flatly. “I don’t.”

“But she enjoys time with me,” Marty replies, wrapping a warm arm around my shoulder. “Don’t ya, Emmy Lou?”

I attempt to shrug him off, but he squeezes me into his body. “Not really.”

“Awww…” Mills chimes in, clasping my hand and lacing his fingers with mine. “I know I’m your favorite but—” He lowers his voice to a loud whisper. “—we promised we wouldn’t tell the others.”

“Would you get off me?” I roll my shoulder and yank at my hand, but both men stay put despite my growing frustration.

“Welcome home,” Bishop muses before stepping aside. “You’re eating lunch with your loving family.”

I can’t be the only one in this house to feel the tension. I mean, literally, it’s suffocating and uncomfortable, clogging my throat as I try to eat.

And I’m not talking about how Kyson and Mills are sandwiching me in between them, but because the blonde known as Camilla hasn’t stopped studying me like a piece of shit on her shoe.

We’re all eating hamburgers. The boys are too busy stuffing their faces while Scarlett talks about how cool it is that we all work together and are helping Bishop “clean their mother’s trailer”.

I don’t know what the hell that means, but I’m taking a wild shot in the dark that she has no clue what her brother does nor what we do, for that matter.

So, instead of being the person to break the news, I nod and smile at her comments.

Bishop, surprisingly, lets her carry on with asking questions while he sits next to her and eats, knowing full well we’ll play along with whatever story he’s come up with. Kyson is in the same mindset across from him, with Camilla at his side while she continues to just pick at her food.

She’s the blonde at the daycare bust.

The one Bishop took with him, and he hasn’t introduced us at all, which pricks at my nerves and paranoia, leaving Kyson to do the awkward intro of “this is a childhood friend.”

Except she doesn’t strike me as one.

Not when she