Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta #4) - Hailey Edwards Page 0,32
behind my ear. “Midas, you’re the expert here. What do we do with him? With them?”
“Lon is outcast. He can no longer belong to the Knoxville pack. That’s the price of an alpha’s defeat.”
Curious what that meant for Midas and Tisdale down the road, I decided the rules for an alpha stepping down must be different than an alpha defeated in a challenge. He would never boot his mother out of her home or ask her to live apart from the others.
That was one helping off my plate. “And the others?”
“We appoint a new alpha or consider integrating them into the Atlanta pack.”
The way he said we gave me hope. “You’re alpha too, right?”
“Yes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am.”
Hands linked at my spine to keep from touching him, I rocked back on my heels. “Are you mad at me?”
A chuckle was all the backup Bishop provided before making himself scarce.
“Why would I be?” Midas dropped his arm. “Nothing that happened here is your fault.”
“You didn’t sound all that happy on the phone, and you look ready to spit nails now.”
“I want to shift and rip Lon open from throat to groin.”
“Oh,” I said quietly. “You didn’t sound too happy with me earlier either.”
And I had left him a love note promising him medium rare burgers with Old Bay fries for dinner too. That was simple enough to cook, even for me, and the classic meat and potatoes combo ought to suit everyone.
“I only just introduced you to the pack.” He brushed his fingertips along my cheek until his hand slid behind my head to fist in my hair. “I worried Claudia’s death might change how you saw them, how you see me.” His fingers tightened but not painfully. “This doesn’t help with that.”
“For two people who talk as often as we do, we don’t communicate well, do we?”
“We need to work on it.” He drew me close. “Assuming you’re going to stick around?”
“A whole bottle of acetone couldn’t dissolve the adhesive where I’m stuck to you at this point.”
“Good.” He brought his head down to mine. “If glue hadn’t worked, I would have invested in chains.”
I didn’t notice he wasn’t laughing at the joke with me until his mouth crushed mine in a bruising kiss that left me in real danger of drifting right off the pavement into the sky like an untethered balloon, and then I didn’t notice anything at all as his fingertips dug into my hips.
“No wonder Abbott sent you home with a wholesale box of condoms.”
A bucket of ice water in Bishop’s hands wouldn’t have been half as effective in shattering the moment.
“How do you know about that?” I whisper-screamed. “Are you stalking me in the Faraday?”
“You say stalk, I say surveil…” Mischief glinted in his eyes as he winked at me. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I came by earlier to drop off a package from Reece for Abbott, and we got to talking. I was in the lab. I saw you in his office.”
“You saw us, or you listened in and cackled gleefully to yourself?”
“Hmm.” He pretended to give it real consideration. “I was holding it in until I saw you leave with enough rubber to retread half the tires in Atlanta.”
Unable to look Midas in the eye, I pivoted on my heel and left him to handle the gwyllgi problem.
Sadly, Bishop followed me, chuckling all the way.
Seven
Our worst suspicions were gaining meat on the bone by the time Bishop walked me back to the Faraday, pretending he had to pick up a bucket of extra crispy from nearby Ben’s Fried Chicken. We had managed to go a night without an explosion, but that could only be because I hadn’t had any particular destination or plans in mind.
An idea forming, I glanced over at Bishop. “How do you feel about traps?”
“I’m against walking into them.”
Eyes rolling, I slowed to a halt several yards from Hank and the front door. “I meant setting one.”
“I do enjoy a good game of Mouse Trap.”
“I’m guessing that’s a game played in ye olden times.”
“Kids these days,” he muttered. “Who are we trapping?”
So many enemies, so little time. “The bomber.”
“That would lead us to the coven.” Staring off into traffic, he mused, “How do you see it going down?”
“Think about Choco-Loco.” I turned the idea over in my head. “Midas and I would have been alone with Chef Daaé. Another intimate setting would minimalize casualties. Why not recreate that atmosphere?”