Bishop was still going through the motions. I was still waiting. And Chloe was still trembling.
Just hang on, baby. I'll be there in a second.
In the driveway, Bishop circled around to the passenger's side. He studied the other front tire.
The guy holding Chloe spoke again. "Fuck the tire," he hissed. "C'mon! Jesus."
When Bishop said nothing, the guy muttered, "Son-of-a-bitch," and sat up. The knife lifted, and I charged forward, covering the short distance lightning-fast. I yanked him off her and flung him to the ground.
With blind fury, I dove on top of him. I gripped his neck with my left hand and pounded him with my right. The guy bucked and twisted, and clutched at his throat, trying to break my grip.
Like that was gonna happen.
I didn't bother to remove his mask. I didn't care who he was, or what he looked like. I was going to kill him right here and now with my bare hands.
Or at least, that was plan until I heard Chloe scream out, "Lawton! Behind you!"
I whipped my head around to see Bishop, still in the ski mask, coming up behind me with that stupid tire iron still in his hand.
So what?
I turned around and punched the guy again, how many times, I didn't know.
Too soon, I felt an arm around my neck, yanking me backward and pulling me up.
Fucking Bishop.
I barreled into him, sending both of us rolling across the lawn. The sounds of screaming made me look up in mid-motion. It was Chloe. She stood above us, clutching the knife with both hands. She looked scared and ferocious and pale as death.
I stopped moving. What the hell was wrong with me? Fighting Bishop? When Chloe was right here? Possibly hurt? Definitely scared.
I was such an asshole. Disgusted, I let Bishop drag me to my feet.
I'd barely gotten my footing when Chloe gave a shriek, lifted the knife, and charged Bishop, straight-on. His hand snapped up, capturing her wrist in his gloved hand. Chloe gave a little cry and dropped the knife.
I turned on him. "Let go of her!"
"For fuck's sake," Bishop muttered. He released her wrist and stepped back with both hands raised.
I rushed to Chloe. I took her hand and said what I should've said earlier. "You okay?" I scanned her face, and then her body, looking for bumps and bruises, or – I felt myself swallow – traces of blood.
I saw nothing. Yeah, she still looked scared, but she was okay. Or least she looked okay. But was she really?
Finally, she gave a weak nod and then glanced toward Bishop. I saw fear and uncertainty darken her face. It suddenly hit me that she had no idea who he was.
I turned to him and said, "Take off the mask, will ya? Can't you see you're scaring her?"
With a muttered curse, he pulled off the ski mask and tossed it to the ground. He gave Chloe an annoyed look. "I'd have taken it off sooner if she hadn't gone all Norman Bates on me."
Chloe glared at him. "Norman Bates?" Her voice was shaking. "As in psycho?"
He shrugged. "If the knife fits…"
Her hand in mine was ice cold. When I moved forward to take her in my arms, she yanked away and whirled around to face Bishop. "Why'd you guys attack me?" She sucked in a ragged breath. "Is this your idea of a joke?"
What the hell? Had I missed something? I turned to Bishop. Through clenched teeth, I said, "What?"
Bishop turned his gaze to the sky. "Oh, for fuck's sake."
Chloe was still glaring at him. "You already said that."
Bishop turned his attention to me. "She thinks I’m the other guy."
Chloe's voice rose. "What other guy?"
Shrugging, Bishop gave a quick glance at the car in the driveway. "The guy in the trunk," he said. "Let's just say we intercepted him."
No. It was Bishop who intercepted him. As for me, I was the one he'd be dealing with later.
Chloe looked toward the car. Her voice trembled. "He's not, uh –"
"Dead?" Bishop said. "No." He looked toward to the guy on the lawn. "And we better hope that one's not dead, either."
I felt my jaw tighten. "Speak for yourself. I don't give a shit if he's dead."
"Obviously," Bishop said. "You search him yet?"
I shook my head and made a move toward the guy.
"Hang on," Bishop said. "I'll do it."
Chloe was shaking her head. "Why you?"
"Because given half a chance, Romeo here –" Bishop flicked his chin toward me. "– would probably finish him off. Then we'd have real trouble on our hands."
Wrong. The only people in trouble were the two strangers. As for me, I had a shovel. I could dig just fine and keep my mouth shut, too.
Chloe's gaze darted from Bishop to me, and then toward the car that – as she'd just learned – happened to have a body in the trunk.
Hey, at least it was alive.
For now.
In front of me, Chloe's gaze shifted to the guy on the lawn. She gave a small shudder, and then her whole body started to shake.
Slowly, careful not to startle her, I reached out and took her hand. I gave it a soft squeeze. "Come here," I said. "It's gonna be alright." I put an arm around her and nestled her close.
Suddenly, she pushed herself away and gave a bark of laughter. "Alright?" Her voice grew shrill. "Seriously? This is so not alright."
She was losing it. And I couldn't say I blamed her. I leaned close to whisper in her ear. "Shhhh…it's gonna be alright."
But she wasn't listening. She was watching Bishop, who had crouched down near the near the guy on the lawn. Bishop pulled off the ski mask, and I saw the guy's face.
I felt myself go very still.
His face was bloody, and his eyes were shut. But I'd seen the guy before, yesterday in fact. It was the guy from the club, the one who'd been talking to Chloe.
What the hell?
Chapter 51
None of this made sense. Standing in Chloe's darkened front yard, I turned to face her. "Wasn't this the guy from yesterday? At the club?"
She looked down at the guy, but said nothing. Watching, I tried to read her face. What was I seeing? Recognition? Or something else?
Finally, she nodded. "I, uh, think so."
The way it looked, she didn't think so. She knew so.
What did that mean?
With a trembling hand, she reached up and touched her throat. With her gaze still on the ground, she gave a little shudder. Her fingers strayed across her skin, as if searching for something she didn't want to find. Cuts? It had to be.
As I knew firsthand, a knife at your throat definitely left an impression – with or without any cutting. But in this case, there were no cuts. I knew because I'd checked.
Chloe's hand fell away from her throat, and she gave a small whimper that turned into a sob. Instantly, I had her wrapped up in my arms, where nothing – and no one – would ever hurt her. She was crying now, softly with small, jerking movements. I held her close, whispering soothing sounds while I stroked her hair.
I hated to see her like this. My grip tightened. If I had my way, she'd never feel this way again.
For some reason, I thought of Brandy Blue. On the night she'd been attacked, she'd cried like this, too – except in Brandy's case, it had all been a lie, right down to the torn clothes and drunken low-lifes who didn't even exist.
But Chloe's attackers did exist. They were right here. She was right here. I was right here. I stroked her hair and then her shoulders, wanting to keep her safe and calm.
As for me, I wasn't calm. Inside, I was thirsting for revenge.
No. Not revenge. Justice.
With Brandy, there had been no justice, because, in spite of her claims, there had been no assault – only a staged boo-hoo-fest and a partner in crime, some player-wannabee who hung with my crowd. In the end, Brandy got exactly what she wanted, thanks to crocodile tears and a secret camera, mounted above her bed.
But out here, there were no cameras, just the girl I loved, nestled agains
t me. She was still crying, quieter now. I held her close and stroked her back.
Forget Brandy. She didn't matter. Not anymore. The girl in my arms was the girl I loved. She was the only girl I'd ever loved, and the only girl I would love, if things played out the way I wanted.
The night was cold, and she felt unsteady. She gave a shudder that twisted my heart.
I needed to get her away from all this – the freezing air, the scene on the lawn, the sounds of Bishop, going through the guy's pockets.
I glanced toward Chloe's house. "Let's get you inside, okay?"
With a sad sniffle, she pulled back to look up at me. "Sorry," she mumbled. "What'd you say?"
"I'm taking you inside."
She glanced at the dark sedan, still sitting in the driveway. "But what about the other guy?"
The guy in the trunk? I wasn't worried. There was a reason I kept a stash of handcuffs at the house. Every once in a while, Bishop and I ran into trouble. We kept emergency supplies, just in case.
I'd be using some of those supplies later. For what, I still didn't know. But for starters, I'd be getting some answers. However it played out, those guys would never, ever hurt Chloe again.
But I'd deal with that later, after Chloe was warm and settled and safe.
I squeezed her hand. "Don't worry." I flicked my head toward the trunk of the car. "He's not going anywhere."
Bishop walked past, carrying the guy's partner over his shoulder. "Neither is this one," Bishop said.
"Oh my God," Chloe stammered. "You sure he's not –"
"He'll be fine," Bishop said. He kept on moving, heading toward the sedan.
Chloe watched the procession in obvious shock. It was the blood. It had to be. The guy's face was dripping with it, leaving a long, dark trail along the concrete.
Eh, I'd seen worse.
But the way it looked, Chloe hadn't. She gave Bishop a nervous look. "Are you sure?"
"Trust me," he said.
From the look in Chloe's eyes, trust wasn't exactly the thing she was feeling. She turned her questioning gaze on me.
I gave her hand another squeeze. "If he says he's fine, he's fine." Of course, the guy wouldn’t be fine later, but that was better left unsaid.
In the driveway, Bishop popped the trunk and dumped the guy into it. From somewhere inside, I heard muffled thumping. Obviously, the other guy had woken up.
I felt myself smile. Good. It'd be that much easier to get answers out of him – well, as soon as we pulled off the duct tape, that is.
When Bishop slammed the trunk and returned to my side, Chloe said, "Shouldn't we be calling the police?"
Bishop and I shared a look.
The police? No. We had different plans for these guys. What specifically, I didn't yet know. But we had a code, and we stuck to it. Guys like this? They didn't get off so light.
From the look on Chloe's face, she saw things differently.
I reminded myself that this was about her, not me, and not Bishop. It would kill me to do it, but if that's what she wanted, we'd make the call. Hey, I could always find the guys later.
I made myself say, "Is that what you want?"
Her eyebrows furrowed as if she didn't understand the question. Her gaze drifted over the lawn and onto the walkway, still dotted with blood. She glanced at the sedan, and then across the street, as if wondering how much the neighbors had seen.
I wasn't worried.
We were covered in darkness and hidden by trees. What had happened here tonight, no one needed to know. In my book, that included the police.
Next to us, Bishop leaned down and picked something up from the grass. It was the knife, with its commando-style handle and short metal blade.
Looking at the thing, I felt a cold anger settle over me. Maybe I'd keep the knife. I could use it later – on its owner. I almost smiled at the thought.
Bishop ran a hand along its blade. His gaze narrowed.
"What is it?" I asked.
Bishop shook his head. "It's fake."
Chloe's hand flew to her throat. "What do you mean fake?"
"It's metal alright," Bishop said, "but I wouldn't call it a knife. Feels more like a movie prop." He turned to Chloe. "Here. Hold out your hand."
I spoke up. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Humor me," he said.
If it were anyone else, I'd have told him to take a hike. But I trusted him. He wouldn't be asking if it weren't important. I turned to Chloe and gave a small nod.
She hesitated, but then held out her hand, palm up.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," he told her. Carefully, he ran the blade along her skin. Nothing happened – no flinch, no reaction, and definitely no blood.
I lifted my gaze to Chloe's face. She looked confused. "It's not even a knife," she murmured, sounding a little embarrassed, but somehow, not quite as surprised as I might've thought.
I kept my voice calm. "Chloe, what's going on?"
She shook her head. "I have no idea."
The inconsistencies were adding up – the knife that wasn't really a knife, the attacker she knew, but didn't know, the house that remained, after all this time, a no-go zone.
I pushed those thoughts aside to ask, "So what do you want us to do?"
Chloe glanced toward the car. "You sure they're okay?"
It suddenly hit me that she seemed awfully concerned for their welfare, given all that had happened. Bishop and I exchanged a glance.
Were the guys okay? Probably. For now, anyway. I turned to Chloe and said, "Yeah."
She looked at me for a long time. "Don't lie to me."
Don't lie to me, either.
But I didn't say it. She'd had a rough night, and it might get rougher. Because later on, I'd be asking her some questions. I didn't want to. But I had to. Whatever she was hiding, it had to stop, and not only for my sake. If she was in trouble, I needed to know.
"Alright," I said, "yeah, they're banged up a little, but they'll be fine in a couple weeks. Maybe sooner."
"How can you be sure?" she asked.
Bishop spoke up. "Romeo fights for a living. Remember?"
I gave him a look. "Used to fight for a living."
"Yeah, whatever." Bishop said, turning back to Chloe. He gave her a long look. "But it seems to me that you wouldn't be losing sleep over these guys. You worried about them?"
Good question.
Chloe stiffened. "No. Of course not. It's just that –" She shrugged. "I dunno. I don't want 'em dead or anything."
I didn't want to hear it. "About the police," I said. "It's your decision. Yes or no?"
She bit her lip and gave it some thought. Finally, she said, with obvious reluctance, "I don't want them doing this to anyone else."
Bishop spoke up. "We'll encourage them not to."
"How?" she asked.
"Better if you don't know," Bishop said.
Her voice was quiet. "You're not gonna hurt them?"
Hell yes, I was going to hurt them. What did she think? That we'd just let them go with a stern warning?
"Baby," I said, working hard to keep my voice soothing, "want us to take care of it? Say the word, and you don't need to think about this ever again."
After a long, painful pause, she gave a small nod.
Good.
I turned to Bishop. "You take care of them. I'll get her inside." I draped an arm over her shoulder and began leading her toward her front door. She kept pace for a couple of steps, but then abruptly stopped.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing." She hesitated. "It's just that you don't need to come in with me."
The hell I didn't. I glanced toward her house. "At least let me check the place out, make sure everything's alright."
She shook her head. "No." Her voice grew shaky. "Really, I'm sure it's fine."
I gave her a long look. "Baby, it's not fine. You're not fine. I can see it all over your face. Now tell me, what is it?"
"Nothing." She pointed toward Bi
shop, who was now climbing into the driver's seat of the dark sedan. "You should go with him."
No. That was not going to happen.
Chloe was squinting at the car. "Where's he going, anyway?"
Nowhere she needed to know, that's where. Somehow, I made myself say, "I'm guessing he'll drive 'em home. Or maybe some public place. Hard to say."
She frowned. "How would he know where they live?"
"Driver's license."
"Oh." She paused. "So what's he gonna do? Drive them home and just leave?"
I dodged the question. "Hard to say."
"You're at least gonna open the trunk before you leave 'em someplace. Right?"
It struck me again that she seemed awfully concerned for their welfare. Why was that?
I glanced toward the trunk. "I dunno. Maybe." I returned my gaze to her. "Except it won't be me doing anything, because I'm staying here with you."
She gave the car a long, worried look. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
I'd done a lot of things before. A lot of those things weren't pretty. I stalled. "Done what before?"
"I don't know." She glanced around the front yard. "Stuff like this."
From the driveway, I heard a sudden burst of muffled thumps and angry voices. It was nothing I hadn't heard before.
"See?" I told her. "Second guy woke up. He's fine. Just like I said."
Chloe was still looking at the car. She bit her lip. "They're trying to get out."
"Maybe," I said. "Either that, or they turned on each other." I shrugged. "It happens."
She turned to stare up at me. "It happens? How would you know?"
From the driveway, Bishop rolled down the window and called out, "You comin' or what?"
"No," I said.
"Yes, he is," Chloe called back.
"No," I said through clenched teeth. "I'm not."
Bishop looked at us, his eyes flat and his tone bored. "I'm leaving in five seconds. In or out. Your choice."
"Go ahead," I told him. "I'll see you at the house."
A moment later, Bishop was on his way. Together, Chloe and I watched as the car reversed out of the long driveway, and then pulled slowly out onto the quiet street.
When I turned back to Chloe, she blurted out, "You should've gone with him."
"Why?"
"Because I can't have guests over."
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