Bishop's Queen

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by Katie Reus


  Panic punched through her as everything came rushing back.

  Someone had plowed into her car and then Ollie had been there. She’d been confused to see him, then… Maybe he’d put something over her face. Then she remembered nothing. Groaning, she tried to sit up and realized her wrists and ankles were tied.

  Oh no.

  “You’re awake,” a familiar voice said as Ollie stepped out of the shadows of the bathroom.

  Fear curdled inside her, making bile rise up. She twisted her neck as he approached. “What are you doing?” Even as she asked, she knew it was a stupid question because he’d obviously kidnapped her—after smashing into her car.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his finger down her forearm.

  She tried to pull away, instinctively not wanting his touch.

  That rejection brought her a slap across the cheek.

  Face stinging, ears ringing, she closed her eyes as she tried to think. If she wanted to get out of this alive, she had to be smart.

  “You think you’re too good for me?” he growled, his voice right next to her ear.

  She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want this to be real. Ohgodohgodohgod how was this happening? Why was this happening?

  “If Bishop had just died, none of this would have happened.” His voice was farther away now.

  She hadn’t even realized he’d gotten off the bed, hadn’t felt him move. Blood was rushing in her ears so loudly that it was all she could do to think above the screaming in her own head. She opened her eyes to find him standing at the foot of the bed, watching her. Subtly she tried to tug on the bindings but they dug into her wrists, chafing.

  “What do you mean?” she asked carefully, keeping her voice as neutral and calm as possible, though she wobbled on the last word.

  “In the bombing. He should have died.”

  Wait…what? She felt all the blood leave her face. “You were behind the bombing?” Again she tried to keep her voice calm, but her father had died in that explosion. Evan had almost died. She’d lost so much. A lot of people had.

  His smile went full-on evil Cheshire cat. “I blackmailed John Nix into doing it. It was either that or let his enemies know about the existence of his little girl. The guy’s a psycho but he would do anything for her. All I had to do was show him a few pictures of her leaving school and threaten to let some very bad people know and he did whatever I wanted.” And Ollie sounded completely smug about it.

  He was calling someone else a psycho? “You killed my dad?” She stared at him in horror, unable to hide her disgust.

  “I didn’t want to!” he shouted, his face going red with rage. “What choice did I have! He was getting close to firing me.”

  She frowned, not understanding. Her father hadn’t told her everything, but he’d never mentioned firing Ollie.

  “Oh yes, he was keeping it very close to the vest. I diverted a few funds from some stagnant accounts and he caught on. He didn’t know I was behind it, but he was getting close to figuring things out. He had to go.”

  “But…everyone else,” she whispered, tugging on the ropes.

  “Once I had the idea to kill him, it was easy to add Bishop to the list and it just made sense. I don’t understand what you ever saw in him!” He wasn’t smiling anymore.

  And Isla knew better than to say anything about Evan or why she was with him. Nothing she said would help.

  “I didn’t want to kill the others, but they were collateral damage.” He started pacing at the end of the bed, his movements jerky.

  “Why did you poison me?” That was one thing she didn’t understand. Not that she understood him regardless, but she didn’t understand the motive in trying to kill her, then bringing her here. He could have just killed her in her car.

  He jerked to a halt, faced her, looking insulted. “I didn’t. That was Rodney. He was angry you’d ordered his firing, thought you didn’t deserve your job. He hated you long before that though. I took care of him.”

  Keep him talking, she ordered herself. Because if he wasn’t talking, he would be doing other things. She fought off a shudder. “Took care of him?”

  “I killed him for you!”

  Oh God, this man was completely nuts. “So you saved me from Rodney?” She swallowed down the bile as she asked the question.

  His eyes went wild and manic. “Exactly. I knew you would understand. He was smart. Not as smart as me,” he said smugly. “But he used different badges to maneuver his way around the system. He would have gotten caught even with his precautions, but I’d already put the security feeds on a loop.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I needed the mobility around the office to watch you,” he said simply.

  Oh, God. Do not show your revulsion, she ordered herself. “Did you attack me at the hospital?”

  “No. Never. I never wanted to hurt you. That’s why Rodney had to die. I killed him for you. Don’t you understand, I did that for you? I even mugged you when you were out with Geno. I thought… I thought you’d turn to me! I would have comforted you. I would have done anything you wanted.” Spit flew out of his mouth as he raged.

  She swallowed hard. “You never even acted as if you were interested in me.”

  “I did. I asked you out when I first started working there!” he snarled, his face reddening even more. She blinked, trying to remember, but she couldn’t. He must have read her expression because his face scrunched up in rage again. “You don’t even remember, do you? It was humiliating.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as fear snaked up her spine.

  “You’re going to be even sorrier for rejecting me.” He crawled onto the bed, his breathing sawing in and out, his eyes wild—and that was when she noticed the big knife in his hands.

  Chapter 27

  Heart in his throat, Evan crept along the side of the exterior wall of the single-story house. Carefully, he peered into the window of the garage and saw the truck with the push bar. This was it.

  It took all his restraint not to kick the door in or smash through a window, but he had to be smart.

  He had to be quiet above all.

  He’d parked a block away and raced here. The police were on their way but he wasn’t waiting for them. Hell, Ollie could hear the sirens and kill—

  No, he couldn’t let his mind go there. He had to focus.

  Considering what Ollie did for a living, Evan didn’t want to risk getting caught on a security camera. He didn’t see any on this side of the house so he wrapped his fist with his shirt and broke one of the garage windows as quietly as possible. No alarm sounded.

  He got the window up and crawled through the opening. The door that led inside was locked and it took precious seconds to pick the lock.

  Weapon up, he eased the door open and swept into what turned out to be a mudroom. A pair of boots was by the door as well as an umbrella on a hook. Two empty laundry baskets sat on a washing machine and the room smelled dusty, as if it hadn’t been used in a while.

  Pausing, he listened, waiting for an alarm. Nothing.

  Panic swelled. What if she wasn’t here? No, the truck was, and Ollie couldn’t have gone far with her.

  Weapon at the ready, Evan grasped the other handle and turned. Bracing for an attack, he swept into another room.

  Living room. It was dark, save for a single lamp on a table by a plastic-covered couch.

  Silently he moved through the house, looking for booby traps or cameras. Though at this point, if there were cameras, it was too late. He wasn’t stopping.

  At the sound of a muffled groan, his heart stuttered in his chest. Following the sound, he raced through the living room toward a hallway. Light spilled out from under a closed doorway.

  He heard the groan again, then a muffled cry.

  Isla. There was no time to wait, no time to be cautious.

  Lifting his leg, he slammed his foot against the door. It splintered under the impact, cheap fiberboard fl
ying everywhere as it busted against the wall.

  What he saw would forever haunt him.

  Isla was tied up on the bed, Ollie on top of her, cutting her clothes off with a hunting knife.

  She let out a silent scream against the tape across her mouth, her eyes wide with terror.

  Ollie turned, knife in hand. His eyes were wild, manic. He raised the knife high above Isla’s chest, his intent clear.

  Evan didn’t think, didn’t hesitate.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Ollie jerked forward, crimson spreading out over the back of his yellow shirt as he slumped onto the bed.

  Evan tucked his gun away as he raced toward the bed. Grabbing Ollie’s body, he threw him on the ground, not bothering to check his pulse. The guy was dead or would be soon and Evan didn’t give a shit about the monster.

  He eased the tape off Isla’s mouth and started cutting the ropes with his Swiss Army knife as she cried.

  “You’re safe now. I’ve got you,” he said as he worked. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, more for her or himself, he didn’t know. And no one would ever hurt her again. He was going to spend the rest of his life trying to keep that vow.

  Once she was free, sobs racked her body as he gathered her up in his arms. Her clothes were in tatters so he held her close as he lifted her up into his arms. Kicking the knife away from Ollie’s still body, he stepped away from the bed.

  “Did he act alone?” he asked, something he should have asked before.

  “Yes. Just him,” she managed to get out through hiccupping sobs.

  Gathering her tight to his chest, he hurried out the way he’d come as she cried against his neck. In the garage, he opened the door and stepped out into the cool, night air as it rose above them.

  Sirens sounded in the distance and he let out a sigh of relief.

  “I’m going to set you on your feet so I can give you my shirt.” He knew Isla enough that she wouldn’t want anyone seeing her like this.

  She nodded, tears streaking down her face as he quickly ripped his shirt over his head and slipped the tattered remains of her clothing off. His shirt was big and long enough to reach her mid-thigh. He belatedly realized she could see all of him—his ugly scarring—but he didn’t give a shit. He was a fool. A damn fool for worrying about his scars.

  Wanting to comfort her, he cupped her cheeks gently. “I need you to listen. Can you understand what I’m saying?” He was pretty sure she was in shock or going into it so he spoke slowly and softly.

  “I’m listening,” she whispered as the sirens grew louder.

  “The cops are almost here. I called Duarte. They’re definitely going to take both of us in. Probably separate us. They might take you to the hospital but they won’t let me go. I’m calling my lawyer right now. Just tell the truth. Stick to the truth and we’ll be fine. And know that as soon as I’m out of questioning, I will get you. I’m sorry but I know how these things work and they will definitely separate us.” Something he hated with every fiber of his being, but he needed her to be prepared. To understand what was coming.

  She nodded and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him as she buried her face against his chest. “Evan,” she whispered his name, all she could seem to get out.

  Holding her tight with one hand, he quickly called his attorney and told him to meet him at the police station before disconnecting.

  He’d done nothing wrong in killing Ollie to save Isla, but he still knew he would have to answer questions, and the State’s Attorney would make a decision on whether or not to prosecute. He knew they wouldn’t prosecute given the circumstances, but still, they would have to follow protocol to the letter. There was a dead body involved and he’d discharged a weapon. It was just the way things worked.

  The only thing that mattered was that Isla was safe. If for some insane reason they decided to prosecute him, he didn’t give a shit. He’d do it again a million times over to save her.

  Chapter 28

  Isla stood up from her hospital bed as the door opened and her mom rushed in. “When did you get here? How did you even know—”

  “The police called me.” Her mom hurried across the room in a flurry, her ankle-length dress swishing noisily before she pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. “Oh honey, I’m so glad you’re okay, though I’m a little fuzzy on the details.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” She hugged her mom back tightly, fighting the onslaught of tears. She’d already had a breakdown after Evan had saved her and she’d barely been able to get through the police questioning. Thankfully they hadn’t pushed too hard given her state, but she wanted to keep it together until she got home. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she repeated as her mom finally stepped back.

  Her mom wiped tears from her eyes. “I’ve already spoken to your doctor, and you’re free to go.”

  Good. She’d been planning to check herself out if they didn’t let her. “I need to call Evan and we need to go see Geno Conti. He was admitted, and one of the nurses let me know that he’s out of surgery.” Thankfully it sounded as if he was going to come through it fine, but still, he’d been shot. “I can’t believe that psycho shot him. Mom, I don’t know what the police told you, but…Ollie was behind the bombing.”

  Her mom nodded, her jaw tightening even as tears filled her eyes. But she blinked them back before straightening. “I’ve already spoken to the detective in charge and he relayed what you told him. I’ll get more details later but it’s my understanding that Ollie somehow blackmailed the bomber.”

  “Yes. At least that’s what he told me.”

  Her mom stepped back and ran her hands up and down Isla’s arms as she inspected her like she was looking for unseen injuries. “Did that man…hurt you?”

  Her skin crawled at the memory. “Yeah, but not like you’re asking. He was going to. And then Evan stopped him. God, Evan. I need to call him now.” She’d already tried multiple times from the hospital phone, but it kept going to voicemail. “I don’t know if he’s still down at the police station, but—”

  “I’ve already spoken to him. He’s being let go and I told him to come to my house. After we see Geno, I’m taking you back home.”

  “I would like that a lot.” The thought of going back to her condo didn’t hold any appeal, but going back to the place she’d grown up? Even with all of its mixed memories, it was home. And she needed to feel safe again. She was just glad that Evan was being let go and would be meeting them there, because she needed to see him too. Needed to hold him and know that he was okay.

  He’d come for her, had saved her life. She had a feeling she was going to be having nightmares for a long time about what had happened in that awful room, but at the end of it, Evan had been there.

  * * *

  Evan was desperate as he steered down Sophia McDonald’s driveway. He knew Isla was safe but he still needed to see her. Needed to wrap his arms around her. After the police had arrived, she’d been taken immediately to a hospital and they’d refused to let him go with her, as he’d predicted. He understood that they had needed to follow protocol, but it hadn’t made things easier.

  He threw his truck into park and was barely aware of rushing up the walkway until the front door opened. So he must have knocked.

  To his surprise Sophia stood there and not her assistant, Rosa.

  “She’s sleeping right now so you can stop all that banging.” Stepping back, she let him in.

  He hadn’t even realized he’d been banging on the door. His heart rate was jacked up as nerves punched through him. “She’s okay?” he demanded.

  The last time he’d seen her she’d been crying in the back of an ambulance, and he’d been unable to go to her. He scrubbed a hand over his face. The image of her crying as they’d shut the doors ate away at him. If he could, he would go back and kill Ollie all over again.

  “She’s okay. She’s a tough cookie.” Taking him off guard, Sophia stepped forward a
nd pulled him into a tight hug. He hugged her back as she said, “Thank you for saving my baby girl. I couldn’t have survived losing her.”

  “Me neither,” he rasped out. “For the record, I’m sorry for the way I treated her before, and I’m never going to hurt her again. I’m in this for life.”

  Her look was assessing as she stepped back. “I believe you.”

  “Evan?” Isla stepped out into the foyer, wearing pajamas he’d never seen before—navy blue pants and a long-sleeved thermal top with little unicorns on them. Her auburn hair was down around her shoulders, her eyes sleepy. His chest tightened at the sight of her.

  “You shouldn’t be out of bed.” Her mom’s tone was worried.

  “I thought I heard voices. Are you good? Did the police drop everything?” She hurried toward him in sock-clad feet.

  He gathered her close, something inside him easing as he held her. “It’s a clear case of self-defense. There won’t be any prosecution. Your mom is right though. Let’s get you back into bed.”

  Looking exhausted with dark rings under her eyes, she simply nodded as he wrapped his arm around her and walked with her to her bedroom. Her hair was slightly damp and smelled of shampoo.

  “I got here as soon as they let me.”

  “I’m glad. Stay, Evan.” She looked up at him as he shut the door behind them. “Please stay.”

  He couldn’t believe she was even asking. “I’m not going anywhere.” Gently, he guided her back to the rumpled sheets of her bed and slid in with her, but not before taking off the T-shirt the police had given him. Worry about his scars, his body, seemed like such a distant, unimportant thing after everything that had happened. She accepted him for who he was, period. He knew that.

  She turned on her side, sliding her arm around him and burying her face against his chest. “Thank you…for what you did.”

  “Oh honey, don’t thank me.” He rested his chin on her head as she remained still against him, grateful to feel her warm and alive next to him. “I love you. I’d do anything for you.”

 

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