It would take five minutes for Bishop to drop off Ella’s luggage. Then Jay would confront him. A solid plan. He would explain that the situation was now under control. That conversation plus talking to Ella’s dad, whenever he managed to figure out what to say, would erase Bishop.
Five minutes crept by, and his muscles started to cramp. Each slow second took its sweet time to torture him.
Jay had left his phone in his car as the next five minutes, then ten minutes, he guessed, passed just as painfully.
What was happening in Ella’s condo?
Surely, his sweet Ella would not let that disgusting slab of meat put his hands—no. Of course not. But still. Chatting, laughing?
Jay’s molars could have fused coal to diamonds. His head killed. A massive headache begged to be a migraine.
He crawled against the car, pressing his body to the cool metal while kneading his temples. The man with the gun was alone with his girl. A problem Jay had caused, but one he could fix.
Soon…
Or later…
How long would this take?
He needed to scream, to escape, to put Bishop’s bullets through his own head.
A sadistic smile crept onto Jay’s face, which relaxed for the first few moments in a very long time. An easy breath coaxed its way out, and he pinched his eyes, controlling the spiraling attack that had seized him.
At war with the darkness, maybe the only thing that could help was to embrace more violence so he could find peace.
“Yes.” His heart beat slower. Everything calmed. His eyelids drooped with each deep breath in and out…
***
The ride from the airport had been quiet, but the tension was palpable. It was an odd combination of Ella talking to Bishop as if they were a couple and then running away from a deep conversation with him. Their unspoken truce about Brie remained intact.
Could she ever admit out loud that she had almost killed him by abandoning him when he needed her the most? Two O’Kane deaths could have been her fault. Would he have enlisted if she hadn’t left him?
And if he’d died in war? After his sister died in that car? Ella would have died too. That was all she could think about.
Bishop guided her inside her condo building, and now that they were closing in on the small space of the elevator and then the very personal quarters of her unit, she felt eager for private time with him again as much as she feared the guilt he might ask her about.
Bishop rolled her bag, ushering her to a stop, and he called the elevator. “You’ve been silent since wheels down.”
“Have not,” she whispered.
They entered the elevator, and he backed her into the corner, dropping her suitcase handle the second he entered. With both hands on her cheeks, he brought her face to his and kissed her. His mouth immediately opened, hot and hungry, and she finally felt at home. His weight pressed her into the corner, and his tongue stroked hers. As strong as the kiss came on, he ended it, lingering. “Should have done that when I first saw you.”
“I…” had no words, apparently.
He stepped back, pressed the button for her floor, then moved back to the same spot and kissed her again. This time, she kissed him as ravenously as he had done her.
When the doors opened, he led the way to her unit and took her keys from her, unlocking the door and disarming her security system. “Stay put for a second.”
Back to reality. Ella’s stomach cramped at the thought that something might be there waiting for her return. But there wouldn’t be. The cameras, the doorman… This was a safe place. Instead, she focused on Bishop, not impending disaster. “I’m just going to watch the view.”
He turned to see her overtly gawking at his backside, but he went about his business, though shaking his head and smiling while checking for danger that lurked.
His back was broad, and his ass was tight. Bishop was a specimen of physical perfection. If someone was going to jump out of a corner and end it all, she was going to go out studying his butt.
Ella rolled her lip into her mouth. It hadn’t been a mistake to tell him how she felt, and his reaction had been… what? Good? Not bad. That wasn’t great. She’d kind of thrown it at him. Saying it had seemed brilliant in her sleepy head, until he stuttered through the rest of the conversation. Hell.
“Looks good, babe.” But he faltered. “What’s wrong?”
Wrong? Nothing was wrong. Or everything. “Just tired, I guess.”
“Bullshit.” He closed the distance in the small living room. “I can still tell when you’re lying.”
“I just want to feel you.” She took a step forward and put her hands on his abdomen. It was too intimate a touch for where her head was, yet maybe it was what she needed. Touch him, hold him, try to say the things she needed to without words. Those tricky suckers weren’t coming to her, at least not the right ones. She slid her hands under his cotton shirt, and his warm skin gave her a rush. “And I want you to feel me tonight too.”
He took a step back, grimacing. “Not that I don’t want in you, babe. ‘Cause I do. But not when it’s as a subject change.”
Damn it to hell. “Didn’t realize that was what I was doing.”
“So spit it out.”
“I don’t know.” She turned, not sure—
He grabbed her forearm. “Seriously, El. Ass on the couch, and your mouth better start moving.”
Her eyes bugged. “That’s a little bossy.”
“You just forced me to turn down sex in order to be an upstanding dude. I’m not thrilled.”
“Ugh.” She swallowed a groan and plopped onto the couch. “It’s stupid.”
“Obviously. But yet…” He gestured. “My boots aren’t moving, babe.”
With a deep breath, she dug into the problem neither of them had talked about since they first were catapulted back into each other’s lives. “I’m… sorry.”
“Er…” His jaw flapped for a moment before he rebounded. “Okay. But what for? Not that I’ll refuse the rare apology from you.”
“God. Never mind.” She rolled her eyes and tucked her legs underneath her, searching for Furry Baby, and remembering that Manny had her pets while she was gone. They would at least snuggle her right now as all of the emotion that she hadn’t touched in fifteen years began to climb up her throat and leak out her tear ducts. Shit. She quickly wiped the corners of her eyes.
“Ella. Calm down. Kidding.” He strode over and sat next to her. “You’re sorry. What for?”
Sniffling, the past crept back so quickly. All the hopes, all the regret. “I should have called.” Just saying that out loud was enough to let the tears loose. “Heck, I could’ve written you an email. Texted. Walked into your dorm. Gone home. Gone to you. Something. Anything.”
“Shit, El…” Bishop dropped back against the couch, his head falling so he stared at the ceiling. It was forlorn enough to make her sob. They were in love, and she was the weak link.
“I know we had different majors, were at different sides of campus.” She wiped her cheeks. “But most of the time, we were literally twenty minutes apart. Literally, the same city. I just couldn’t handle it…”
He’d needed her, and she had been so lost in her own grief about Brie that all she could think about was herself. What kind of lonely hell had he been living in when she abandoned him?
“Tell me”—Bishop reached behind her and pulled her into his lap—“that’s not what you think.”
Of course it was. What else was there to think? One day, everything was fine; everyone was alive. The next day, there was silence. Silence morphed into depression that became separation until she wasn’t there.
Bishop stroked the back of her head. “I didn’t hunt you down as much as you didn’t come to me.”
“She was your sister.”
Without looking, Ella felt him nod. “Yeah.”
“You don’t blame me?”
“For Brie dying? Yeah. I did. Both of us. A lot…” He cleared his
throat. “If we hadn’t been playing. If we hadn’t been drinking.”
Ella stifled a sob. “I know. I mean…” She took a shaky breath. “I mean with us. You and me. Do you blame me for us? Breaking up. Because, I’m sorry.”
“Ella.” He shook his head. “Never occurred to me.”
“Why?”
“Babe—” His brow furrowed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Babe. I left you. I enlisted and never looked back. Couldn’t.”
Dumbstruck by that paradigm shift, she sat there, letting that weigh on her. “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t offer.”
“We were so far gone,” she whispered.
“It was bad.”
She nodded. “And you thought all this time that I… knew? That you left me?”
Bishop rolled his bottom lip into his mouth. “Makes me a pretty solid piece of shit, huh?”
“We were so young. And we just sat there, holding her hands, and she died.” Ella remembered how Brie’s unresponsive hand had turned lifeless. How they’d each held one. Each begged her to be okay, told her that help was coming. She remembered the littlest things, like glass in her kneecaps and the wail of the sirens that were too late.
“Ella, take a breath.” Bishop hung onto her. “I’ve got you.”
She trembled as hard as her heart and buried into his chest. “I know you do.”
“Good, babe. Good.”
“You and me?” she murmured against his shirt. “It’s happening again. Except this time, we’re adults, and I just said things I’ve never been able to say out loud.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I’m falling for you all over again.”
His heavy arms tightened, enveloping her in a safe cocoon. “When you stop falling and simply understand, let me know.” His chin rested on top of her head. “Until then, don’t rush it. You have a lot going on.”
She would’ve melted away if he hadn’t held her tight. This was more than just seeing someone…
Today. That moment. This was the start of them. They had been in love before; they could do it again—
The doorbell rang, and his hold that had been as easy as an angel’s caress transformed into steel. “Expecting anyone, babe?”
This late at night after she’d just come home? No heads up from her doorman? All of her shook. “No.”
“That motherfucker.”
Fear woke every nerve as Bishop deposited her on the couch and unholstered his gun. “Go into your bedroom. I’ll be back in one minute.”
She scurried up at the sound of what had to be his gun clicking into action and his boots heading for the door.
***
It was morning? And whose voice was that? Jay rubbed sleep from his eyes, feeling an awful crick in his neck.
“Sir?”
He blinked, more awake but still disoriented. The rising sun shone brightly. Wildly, he searched for the moon and night’s sky. It was gone, replaced by the brilliant purples and yellows of dawn falling into morning.
“Hey!”
Jay turned, putting the pieces together. He was on the ground, pushed up against a car, with his legs half in the grass.
“Get off my car or I’m going to call the cops.”
A tire had been his pillow. Not his worst sleeping conditions. “What time is it?”
“Christ. Six a.m.”
Oh, shit. He’d been asleep all night. “Sorry, I—” He had no explanation, and when he looked up, Bishop’s truck was gone. “Shit!”
Jay scurried to his feet, unsteady and unsure. He rushed toward his car. If Ella saw him now, he would have no explanation for her, either.
What did it mean if he was losing control? If he couldn’t see the differences between himself and the stalker, of spiraling to sleep on a sidewalk?
Jay quickly closed himself in the safe confines of his car and checked his phone. There was a voice mail—not from her—and text messages from Ella. She had not even told him she was back at home. He pressed play on the voice mail.
“Hello, Mr. Graff. This is FBI Special Agent Angie Byrd. Sorry for the late-night call, but I’d hoped to catch you. I’d like to learn more about Eco-Ella and get your insight on Miss Leighton. My schedule is open tomorrow. Please call.”
Jay hit save, and his pulse raced at the opportunity to enter the conversation. Whenever she wanted to meet, he would be there.
An opening from the FBI to see what they had, and still, he had nothing from Ella.
Jay opened the sun visor and stared at the mirror. “What does that mean?” No calls? “It means you need to gain control of Ella. Quickly.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
This was some bullshit. Jay tapped his fingers nervously on the metal table. But it was all in the name of Ella’s safety. He glanced around the FBI waiting room. When he’d agreed to chat with Special Agent Byrd, he thought it would be a conversation. Jay had envisioned coffee and a meeting of the minds, where they sat around a conference table, working out all of the possible threats against Ella, all of the headaches and concerns she’d received over the years, starting when they took on their first corporate challenge and reaching its zenith when she was the star of reality prime-time TV.
His eyes tracked to the two-way mirror and dropped to the scarred table. This wasn’t the right setup, and he wasn’t thrilled to be waiting to help. Jay pushed back the heavy metal chair, not comfortable in any position, and drummed his nails on the table again.
Tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Anyone around?” How long had he been in there? He didn’t have his cell phone on him—security had forced him to leave it at the building check-in—and Jay could feel eyes on him through the mirror. Was this what Ella felt like? Eyes boring into her.
Was this not a friendly visit? Were they smart enough to study him closer? He’d hunted Ella, and now maybe they considered hunting him?
No. Not possible. His planning had been too clean. His alibi was airtight, his schedule flawless. Even with the questionable one-time use of Tara into his well-orchestrated plans, it didn’t matter. They could have at him for hours… days. He would play.
“Hello? I don’t have all day.” Confidence was a declaration of innocence, a simple challenge.
The door handle jiggled before it opened, and in walked a dowdy lady.
“Mr. Graff.” She wore a pantsuit and blocky black boots.
That was Ella’s agent? Not even a smear of makeup, but she was unlike that of the all-natural, Eco-Ella crowd. This woman seemed as if she didn’t care.
“Good morning,” Jay said.
“Thanks for coming in.” Her chair scratched across the tile floor, and she did nothing to stop the jarring scrape until she took a seat and made official introductions.
Jay gave the smile that worked on most women. “Nice to meet you.”
The agent opened a portfolio, turning over a scribble-covered page that had lines and circles, arrows and asterisks. She rolled a cheap pen between two fingers, dropped it to the page to test for ink, then put it down before glancing up as though she didn’t give a hoot that he’d put on his most charming smile. “I had a few questions to clarify.”
Bitch. “Anything to help Ella.”
She didn’t smile. No twitch of her lips, no dip of her head. Nothing. The woman gave up zip and probably killed at poker. Though not chess, where a person had to think.
The agent remained silent, but the pen began to write. What could she possibly have picked up and thought important enough to jot down in the last two seconds?
“You’ve had a working and personal relationship with Ella for several years? Would you say you’re close?”
Irritation sharpened its claws against his chest, and Jay ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “No one knows Ella better than me.”
“No one else?”
Certainly not Bishop. “No.”
“Not her family?” the agent asked.
&n
bsp; “Outside of family,” Jay conceded. “She’s close with her parents. But friends and lovers are the family you pick.”
Would she understand that? Some people couldn’t comprehend friends and lovers. And how special could this special agent be? She had no reaction when Jay basically offered her the encyclopedia of intelligence.
The agent flipped to a new page and wrote feverishly. She tore it free and pushed the straggle-sided note to him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
Her blank face remained even. “You tell me.”
His eyes dropped to a list of dates that he had memorized and planned around. He was visibly, physically nowhere near Ella at those times. More often than not, Tara was with him, and she was exceedingly visible, which made the best alibi. Jay read the list of days Ella had been stalked. “What is this? Dates of when things happened to Ella?”
The agent’s passive face didn’t flinch. “Can you please check your calendar against these dates? Then let me know where you were?”
“They wouldn’t let me bring my phone upstairs, but sure, I can get that to you.” He offered his trademark pearly white smile. It had helped him time and time again, whether he and Ella were on the beach and needed to get in good with the locals, or they needed to sweet-talk the secretary of a corporate CEO.
Agent Byrd didn’t notice. Jay tilted his head and deepened the smile. Still no reaction from the agent. He leaned back, assessing his opponent. She didn’t retreat.
“Just in case, I had it brought up.” She gestured at the mirror, and the door swung open.
An older man walked in with Jay’s phone outstretched, and a trickle of concern ran along the back of his neck as he snagged the device. “Fine.”
Scrolling through his apps until he found the calendar, Jay pulled up the details. They were perfectly scheduled for this exact situation. By his estimation, it would take approximately an easy two minutes to fill anybody in. “Ready?”
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