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“Didn't need to,” she said.

“Angel,” Ghost breathed.

“Ghost,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jackhammer sat on a barstool. “This should be fun.”

Ghost pointed at him. “You're supposed to help.”

“I learned three arguments ago to let you handle your own shit with our woman,” Hammer said.

“What exactly did you learn?” Ghost asked.

“Well, for starters, don't tell her what she's doing—or not doing,” Hammer explained.

Angel smiled. “See? Hammer's trainable.”

“Fuck both of you,” Ghost drawled.

“Maybe later,” Jackhammer said. Angel's eyebrows rose, and Monster groaned.

“Jesus Christ. Can we wait until after we deal with the corrupt judge before we start negotiating bedroom schedules?” Monster grumbled. Angel turned red. Ghost stared at Monster, and Jackhammer laughed.

Monster pointed toward the hallway. “Church. Now.”

Bishop knew more about Harrison Cole than Ghost liked. That became obvious quickly. Everyone who mattered sat around the table—Monster, Ghost, Jackhammer, Angel, and Bishop. Crow had returned against medical advice with his arm in a sling and enough painkillers in his system that Bones had threatened to knock him unconscious if he tried anything stupid. Razor was still downstairs. Ghost would've preferred Razor in a shallow grave, but Angel wanted him alive, so he was alive—for now.

Monster leaned back. “Start talking.”

Bishop folded his hands in front of him on the table. “Harrison Cole was an assistant district attorney when I first met him.”

“How long ago was that?” Angel asked.

“Thirty-one years,” Bishop said.

“He recruited Robert Mercer?” Ghost asked.

“Yes,” Bishop said.

“For what?” Monster questioned.

“Cole understood something before most criminals did,” Bishop said.

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest. “What's that?”

“Everybody watches criminals. Nobody watches respectable men,” Bishop said. “Cole built relationships with cops, prosecutors, judges, business owners, and even clubs. He didn't run drugs himself, move guns, or collect protection money.”

“He let other people do it,” Angel said.

“Yes,” Bishop agreed.

“And took a cut,” Monster said.

“Yes,” Bishop said.

Jackhammer shook his head. “He was smart.”

Ghost looked at him. “What?”