Bishop's Queen

by Cristin Harber

  “By all means.”

  He spoke, but she didn’t write anything down. The pen remained by the notebook. Jay’s calendar items were pinpoint precise, and what did she do? Nothing!

  “All right. Thank you for your time. That will be all.”

  He seethed. “That’s it? That’s all you have to ask?” He bunched his fists, standing, and ground them into the cold table. “That could’ve been handled on the phone or in an email. You didn’t write anything down.”

  The agent showed a flicker of emotion for the first time. She looked triumphant. “No. It couldn’t. Do you have anything else you want to add, Mr. Graff?”

  Had he been set up? Was this hunter better than he realized? Jay pulled himself back; the realization of what had just happened slapped him across the face. “No.”

  She smiled. “Good day.”

  The woman in the ugly boots and ugly suit, with no makeup and bad hair, who didn’t succumb to any of his charm and didn’t flinch or flirt with a smile, pushed out of her chair, letting it scrape, then turned on her flat heels. She left him with his mouth agape.

  Jay fell back in his chair, shocked. This was all wrong. He was the master of situations, certainly the master of Ella, like a fisherman who’d thrown his net and was pulling his girl back.

  All of these things—the FBI, Titan, Bishop—they had all messed up his plan. His lungs hurt as he held his breath. Nothing seriously wrong had just happened. Simple damage control might be needed, but nothing major.

  The phone-bearing agent reappeared, and after a few short words that Jay didn’t process, Jay warily followed. He got his wallet back from security—where his phone had been—and pushed out the heavy doors, passing the security guards who had searched and scanned him.

  The sun hit his face, and Jay jogged toward the parking garage. The building loomed next to him as if it might reach down and pull him back inside. His jog became a run, until he was at the garage, taking two steps at a time in the stairwell. Jay sprinted to his car.

  Once in the safety of his Prius, he pulled Ella’s name up and hit the button. It rang once, twice.

  “Hello?” Her sweet answer soothed his soul.

  Gasping, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Hey, Ella, what are you up to?”

  “The same old. You?” She sounded distracted.

  “Actually…” He fumbled blindly for the start button, needing the AC to cool him down. “I just spent time with your FBI agents.” The air hit him, and he opened his eyes. “You have a good team. Whatever’s going on, they’re going to fix this. Don’t stress about it.”

  “I’m not stressed.”

  “You’re not stressed? Everyone’s running around, dealing with it, and you’re not stressed?”

  “I—”

  “You should be.”

  “Jeez, Jay. I’m trying to live my life. I have Bishop and Locke to run around and deal with it. Okay? I’m glad you talked with them and all, but—”

  “Bishop and Locke are assholes.” He slammed a fist onto the center console. “That Titan Group stands for everything that we don’t. You and me, Ella. We’re the team. We have our beliefs. They are a blip in time.”

  “Titan allows for whatever you believe in. That’s a simple fact.”

  He sneered. “Excuse me?”

  “Whoever’s doing this? Screw that person. They’re trying to control my life.”

  Damn. Fucking. Straight. Control her and bring her back. “You don’t get it, Ella—”

  “No. You don’t, Jay. Last night, I dropped something out of my purse, and my neighbor stopped by to bring it over. You have no idea how scared I was just because my doorbell rang. You have no clue what I went through from a simple doorbell.”

  Finally—but she didn’t call, and he had woken up on the street. How could his plan have failed so miserably? A migraine clouded at his temples.

  “And no matter what I do or what I believe…” She trailed off, and he couldn’t manage to speak any words to fill the gap. Ella continued. “Or what I want to fight for? As long as it’s for the greater good, Bishop and Locke, Titan? They’re behind me. That’s my team. The Eco-Ella team, which you’re supposed to be A-number-one cheerleader on. So get over it, Jay, and get back on the team. Or get a new job. I am done with the fighting.”

  A new job? His ear must be lying. No other reason, except… “Did you sleep with him?”

  “Are you out of your—forget it.”

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  “Jay!”

  “Did that ‘roided-up buffoon touch you?” Jay spat into the phone.

  “You know what? I’m so done with this. You’re fired.”

  The phone clicked, and the silent line screamed louder than his demons.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The rage finally left Jay’s shaking hands. Forty-five minutes later, he handed Tara a no-foam soy latte and took a burning sip of his. Together, they walked out of the coffee shop. Tara didn’t have her quick-footed gait, and the corners of her mouth hadn’t perked up, even with the promise of caffeine. She had nothing to complain about, though, given she hadn’t been fired. Jay planned on wringing Ella’s neck if she didn’t call him back in the very near future and beg for forgiveness.

  Tara worried him, though. The FBI didn’t call her up and schedule an appointment. They’d dropped by her office, wanting a tour of her conference room, even though that had happened weeks ago and Titan had reported everything. She was a jittery mess.

  He tugged at his collar.

  “Jay—”

  “What did they ask you?” They navigated the pocked brick sidewalks on Capitol Hill.

  “Where was I, who I was with, what did I think about what was happening to Ella.” Tara’s bossy-bitchy, always so-sure candor wasn’t there. Her lips rested on the lid of the coffee cup as they paused at a crosswalk.

  “That’s not a big deal.” Encouraging her worked for both of them. That one little stunt he had looped her in on wasn’t his best move, but she had no idea the extent to which he had played with Ella. Tara had held his letters, looked at his pictures, talked about his doings with him, and had no idea. Everything would be fine. “It’s a good thing to hash it out with them. It’ll keep her safe.”

  But the heat had been set to boil. The game would have to end now. Ella had changed the rules; the FBI might be on the right trail. If Ella took him back, the stalker would go away and the game would be done. Everything would go back to normal, and their life would move forward.

  The crosswalk sign changed, but Tara only moved the cup from her lips. “Wait—Jay. Every time and date they asked me about, I was with you.”

  Interesting that she thought that was noteworthy. “We’re always together.”

  “Not always.”

  “I thought the same thing about you.” He laughed, arching an eyebrow. “Do you have a plan to drive ratings with a stalker?”

  “No!”

  Perfect reaction. She was accused of pushing the envelope so often that she would be defensive. “We’re together all the time. Throw a dart at the calendar, and we’d be together.”

  “Right… Does this have anything to do with what we had—”

  “No.” He cut her off abruptly. “Absolutely not. That was totally separate. It was just a thing. It’s not even worth bringing up.”

  “Okay, because they asked if there is anything else that I could think of, and—”

  “Did you mention that?” Because everything banked on the fact that Tara was unscrupulous enough to play a little with her clients, nothing illegal, and not mention it if questioned.

  “No. It just seems silly,” she stuttered.

  “Exactly. We were just playing games. Now that everything else has happened, no one would find it funny. Context is everything.”

  “You’re right,” Tara said.

  “You’d lose all your clients if that got out.” Jay was going to have to pull off something big when he wasn’t with Tara but still had
an alibi, especially if this “you’re fired” bullshit didn’t wrap up.

  Tara bit the edge of her cup, her silence agreeing with him. Nerves were contagious, and he drummed on the side of his coffee cup as they came upon Tara’s office. What kind of event would force Ella his way and ensure he and Tara didn’t have an issue with their identical calendars?

  The taste of excitement mixed with his coffee. “Don’t worry, Tara. Everything will be fine.”

  “Sure,” she mumbled.

  “Good news is Eco-Ella has never been so hot. Did you see the numbers from the last few nights?”

  She stopped chewing on the edge of her cup and shined. “I did.”

  When all else failed, he could throw ratings out to pacify Tara. Mission accomplished.

  ***

  Ella swirled the straw in her smoothie cup, unable to stop fidgeting. She had torn the team apart, and now it was time to tell Tara, who was always an advocate of the Ella-Jay dynamic duo.

  “You’re ruining your smoothie,” Tara offered. “It’s already a soupy mess. Consistency is half the battle.”

  Exactly. Consistency. And that was Tara—consistent. She’d always been there with the truth whenever Ella needed to hear it, never wavering, even if the delivery hurt. But that was one of the reasons why Ella appreciated Tara’s insight. She would tell Ella if firing Jay was the wrong move.

  “Jay met with the FBI today.” Ella stilled her straw. “Then he sort of… crossed the line.” His attitude problem had to be jealousy-based. Everything had been fine until Bishop showed up.

  “I did too,” Tara offered.

  “Oh. Good.” Everyone played a part in nailing the bastard that was screwing with her. Didn’t Jay see that? Each person was part of the team, playing their role. “But with Jay… he’s got a problem with Bishop.”

  “No shit, chickadee.”

  Ella’s eyes bugged. “Well, if you know that—”

  “Honey, the whole world knows that. I’m surprised even fans aren’t commenting on that.” She smirked. “Well, if Bishop would ever go on video, they would.”

  “That’s not his role in all of this.”

  “And what is his role?” Tara sucked on the straw, tilting her head, waiting for gossip.

  “I fired Jay.”

  The straw fell off Tara’s bottom lip as it dropped. “You did what?”

  “He asked if I was sleeping with Bishop.”

  “Well…” Tara’s cheeks blushed. “I kinda did too. Are you going to fire me?”

  “He did it in an angry way. Like he threw it in my face and yelled it a few times.”

  Tara pulled the straw back into her mouth. “Well, shit. When did that happen?”

  “Right after his meeting with my agent.”

  Tara sipped the smoothie then chewed on the straw. “Hmmm. How about that shit?”

  “I wanted to let you know, so that, I don’t know. This is awkward. I just thought you should know.”

  “It’s not awkward. Bishop’s hot. You’re single. I get it.”

  Ella blushed. “I always thought you wanted me back with Jay.”

  “No.” She put her cup down. “You and Jay are ratings gold. When you two do a video, it’s like whoa.” Tara tossed jazz hands. “I’m a ratings whore. You know that.”

  “You’re not pissed?” Ella asked.

  “God… fuck me sideways. You’re going to fire me, anyway. Let’s get it over with now.”

  “What?”

  “When you two first broke up, Jay asked me if I could help play matchmaker in getting you guys back together.”

  Ella blinked. “Meaning what?”

  “You had some red-carpet event you were going to, and he wanted to escort you. You’d had some nutso fan letters within the couple weeks before that event. So… he wrote one up, and I let you see it.”

  “Tara!”

  “It was nothing.” Tara cringed. “Super poor timing, considering you had a real loose cannon out there. Look, I’m sorry. It was stupid. It was one of your first big events after the breakup, and I didn’t know how it would go without him on your arm, and—I’m sorry.”

  Her mind reeled. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Please,” Tara whispered. “Don’t say I’m fired. I do all kinds of publicity stuff for you. I lumped it in with that. Didn’t think twice.”

  “That’s so… so…”

  “Manipulative as shit. Appalling. Categorically fucked up.” Her brow furrowed. “I legitimately didn’t think it was a big deal at first, and I have been letting it eat me alive every day since. I’m sorry.”

  “And Jay was in on this?”

  Tara nodded. She bit her lip, tears welling. “I’m sorry.”

  “You guys are my team. My friends,” she whispered.

  “I really am. I made a mistake. It was just a letter, just for one event.” Tara shook her head. “I don’t mean to downplay. At the time, it didn’t seem big. Now? With everything going on? My perspective has changed. And maybe, what I do for ratings too.”

  “This… really hurts.”

  “Are you going to fire me? Maybe you should. You shouldn’t. But maybe you should…” She sucked in a breath and whispered, “Please don’t.”

  Ella closed her eyes. “No.”

  “Are we still friends?”

  “If that’s what you call us…”

  Tara wrapped her arms around Ella. “I’m going to be a better friend.”

  “And a nicer publicist?”

  She pulled back. “I’m nice.”

  Ella choked on a laugh. “You should read back some of your text messages. They can be harsh.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded.

  Tara pulled her chair closer. “I’m team Ella. I love working with Eco-Ella, and I hope you’re banging the brains out of Bishop.”

  “Tara!”

  “I value you. I’ll make it up to you. But first, I have a phone call to make.”

  “To who?”

  “The FBI.”

  That caught Ella off guard. “About this?”

  “About a couple things that popped to mind while we were sitting here. Drink your melted smoothie and do a video—and God help us, don’t post that thing until we walk out the door. As hot as your bodyguard is, I don’t want him breathing down my neck.”

  It looked as though Tara had been on the receiving end of Bishop’s “how to be safe in the age of the Internet” conversation. “He has a strong argument.”

  “I think he probably has a strong everything.”

  “Tara!”

  “What? Dirty girl. I didn’t say anything like your face just said. Who knew it’d take a beefcake like him to turn Eco-Ella into—”

  “Don’t finish that.” But Tara was not wrong. “Make your phone call, then I have to go home.”

  Because now Ella had her own calls to make.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jay paced the apron of the Lewandowski driveway. Ella’s parents weren’t home. Big surprise. They traveled too much, and her father wasn’t returning Jay’s phone calls and texts. What kind of dad didn’t do that when his daughter was in the middle of this dangerous situation?

  He pulled out his phone, trying one more time. It rang and hit the third chime. Voice mail was a moment away. Again.

  “Hello?” her father grumbled.

  Jay startled. “Hi. Hello. This is Jay.”

  “I know, Jay.”

  His forehead wrinkled. Then why wasn’t he answering? “I needed to speak with you about the security group you hired for Ella.”

  “This isn’t a conversation that we’re going to have, son.”

  See! Even her father still acted as though they were family, as though he and Ella were still a couple. “What you don’t know—”

  “Jay, I’m not meddling in my daughter’s affairs.”

  “Exactly!”

  “What’s between you and El is between you two. I’d like to stay out of it.”

>   “I’m trying to explain about the ineptitude of her security.”

  “Hmm.” The sound drew through the phone. “I’m quite pleased. Thank you for your concerns, Jay. Take care.”

  The call ended, and he raged. “Fuck!”

  ***

  Bishop watched Special Agent Angie Byrd walk out. Rocco shut the door, one hand resting on it, while he shook his head. With Rocco’s back turned toward the room, Bishop hadn’t been able to get a read on his team leader’s face, which had remained impassive throughout the entirety of the briefing. This was not going to be a slam, bam, thank you ma’am fast job. No, this was nothing more than gut instinct and a lack of evidence.

  Rocco turned around. His gaze first went to Winters, and they exchanged a nonverbal conversation that Bishop wished he’d been at Titan long enough to read. Roman and Cash seemed to understand every word, their body language agreeing with a nod. Nicola and Beth had come in for the briefing, sitting side by side near Winters. While on maternity leave, they’d only come in for the most important of intel jobs, and Bishop didn’t know what to make of their intense focus or the etched worry radiating from them as Nicola twisted her fingers and Beth remained eerily still.

  Locke and Jax mirrored him across the table, both eyeing their teammates without making their moves obvious.

  “Goddamn it,” Jared growled from the head of the table.

  All the attention shifted to him as Rocco dropped back into his chair next to Boss Man.

  Rocco ran his hand over his face. “They don’t know which way is up, which way is down.”

  “They do,” Jared disagreed. “And aren’t telling us shit.”

  Winters shook his head. “They didn’t say that.”

  Bishop glanced at Locke then Jax. Disagreement in the family. Surely it happened, but they’d never seen it. Across the table, Roman and Cash were harder to read. Nicola and Beth were not.

  Roman leaned back in his chair. “It’s definitely not someone who gives two shits about Vamanato.” He rubbed his chin. “It’s someone she’s close to.”