in the trash. It reasoned that there was something about her that was trouble . . . even dangerous. But as with so many times in my life, I chose to ignore that voice.
TEN
SAMANTHA
I initially thought Bishop was bullshitting me about the Raiders watching out for their own. Frankly, I didn’t want anything they could offer me unless it came in the form of justice for Gavin. But Bishop was constantly surprising me, and I learned very quickly that he was truly a man of his word. Over the next week, he called or texted me every day. At first, it was just to ask how I was and if I needed anything. Then we started talking on the phone for an hour or two a night. We never really discussed anything of substance because in the end, we both had too much to hide. Most of the time, we talked about movies we had enjoyed, or the music we liked to listen to. Sometimes there were stories from our childhood—stories that didn’t reveal too much of who we really were. We seemed to spend a lot of the time laughing, which was something I desperately needed.
Regardless of the subject matter, I started to look forward to our calls more than I should have. When I tried telling myself it was for the case I was building on my own, I knew I was the one doing the bullshitting. Although it went against every fiber of my being, I enjoyed talking with Bishop. He was so much more than the guy I had originally thought he was. He was so much more than a lot of the men I had dated in the past, although I didn’t like admitting that to myself.
After two weeks of texts, phone calls, and two dinners, I was growing antsy for more MC information. More than anything, I was intrigued about what he had told me at the bar about the club going legitimate. I couldn’t imagine how a deal with a drug cartel fit into that picture, but I knew I had to find out. I had even more time at work to stew about it because Peterson kept me chained to a desk. Each time I broached the subject of going back out in the field, he would shake his head sadly. “Not until you get your head on straight, Vargas.”
A month after Gavin’s death found me in totally uncharted territory as I made my way into the gym run by the Raiders. We had just finished dinner out together on Tuesday when Bishop asked, “Remember how you said you wanted to see me box sometime?”
My mind immediately went back to the night I’d met him and one of our first conversations. “Yeah. I sure do.”
“Well, I have a fight scheduled on Saturday night, if you’d like to come.”
Considering where Bishop would be boxing, I figured it might be a great way to get some more information on the club. I also couldn’t ignore the part of me that wanted to spend as much time as I could with Bishop before our time together came to an end. “Sure. I’d love to.”
Bishop gave me his signature cocky grin. “Awesome.”
Tonight was about trying to piece together the truth about the Raiders, whether it was good or bad. At least that was what I told myself. When I got to the door, I found a hulking man guarding it. I couldn’t help being reminded of the first time I had gone to the Raiders’ compound. Before I could tell him who I was, he asked, “You Samantha?”
“Yeah. I am.”
He grinned. “B’s just inside.”
“Thanks.”
After he held the door open for me, I ducked inside. The hallway was relatively quiet, with only a few men milling around. Down the hallway past the double doors, I could hear the roar of the growing crowd.
Unsure of what to do or where to go, I called out tentatively, “Bishop?”
Within seconds, he popped out of one of the rooms. At the sight of me, his face lit up. “Hey, Sam.” He waved me over, and I hurried down the hallway.
“I’m so glad you came,” he said as he gave me a friendly hug. Although the physical contact was brief, I couldn’t ignore the solid way his arms felt around me. His embrace sparked a desire of intimate longing and a feeling of comfort. I wasn’t used to having a man make me feel that way with just the slightest touch. It