Bishop turned toward the base of the hill, where the van had crashed into the trees. Ella’s video equipment was strewn the remainder of the way down the hill, and the van’s front end was demolished by the force of the impact. FB ran circles around them, and Bishop had no idea where LK was.
“Got Manny?” Locke asked.
Bishop nodded, knowing what was on his buddy’s mind. They were under attack, and somehow they’d missed it. What were the chances that Manny had forgotten to set his car in Park? Or that it had slipped out of gear? Impossible.
“Ella,” Manny moaned. Tears leaked down his cheeks.
“Help is coming. Hang on!” She cried with him, holding his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll be back.” Locke sprinted up the hill.
“Is he going for the ambulance?” Ella asked. “I don’t hear sirens.”
No, babe. He’s hunting. “We need to keep Manny calm.”
How had Bishop missed this? They were in a wide-open park. They would’ve seen a car coming up to the parking lot. How long would it have taken someone to follow them? Or hike on foot? Too long. But nothing was impossible. They sure as hell didn’t have tracking devices on their vehicles… or did they? Manny’s van was the new item in the equation and a constant around Ella. They couldn’t search everyone in contact with her…
An ambulance siren blared in the background. Locke jogged downhill, his head shaking. Once he was by Bishop’s side, they watched as the ambulance made its way up the drive to the parking lot. Any car would have been visible, a point the ambulance just confirmed. “You’re probably thinking what I’m thinking.”
“Affirmative.”
“I’ll call in to Titan. Stick with Ella.”
He wasn’t going far from her. He almost hadn’t made it in time. The memory of cold steel slamming into his body made him shudder. Ella could’ve been roadkill in a beautiful park that she’d sworn was her favorite place on earth. Guilt tightened his lungs, and he cleared his throat.
A medical team ran down the hill with a gurney and packs. They crowded around Manny, and Bishop scooped Ella into his arms. “I’ll take you to get checked out.” Truth was, he didn’t want her to hear Manny when they immobilized him. It was better if Ella missed this.
“I want to stay with him.”
“I know you do, babe. But I promise, they have him.”
He ground his molars at the pain from his own bruises and cradled her. Ella sucked in a breath, reacting to an injury too.
She dropped her head against his shoulder. “How did I let this happen?”
“Same question I’m asking,” Bishop mumbled. They were both hiding bruises, and both asking the same questions. Every time he least expected it, he found out they were the same. This time, for the first time, it was for the worst.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The germicide smell of hospitals made Ella sick, and she itched to leave. Her room made her anxious, and the lack of Manny updates exacerbated that tenfold. Bishop and Locke hovered in the room like two ginormous, out-of-place soldiers in a dollhouse made for tender, breakable things. Their glares were hardened and angry, and their conversations were whispered back and forth, except when they were telling her to get back into bed.
“Can everybody stop fussing over me?” Ella barked at Bishop and Locke. “Because I am done with this! Done. Done. Done!”
Locke took a step back, and Bishop took a step forward. But neither said anything.
“Nothing is wrong with me.” Her irritation level reached an all-time high at that very second. “Manny was the one who was hurt. Hurt because of me. I get that he’s going to be fine, but I’m already fine. I have a few bumps and bruises. I have a headache, which I’m sure is from stress more than being run over by Manny’s van.”
Bishop crossed his arms, apparently none too thrown that she kept insisting on the truth. “You didn’t cause that.”
“Bishop’s right, Ella,” Locke repeated.
When these two decided to stick to a script, man, they did. They never deviated and never stopped pushing their agenda.
She turned puppy dog eyes to Bishop. “Can you get me out of here?”
“Not yet.”
Maybe they would work on Locke. “I’m appreciative for the checkup. But I don’t understand the holdup.”
A nurse walked into the room—the same nurse that had read Ella the riot act before. Shit.
“Observation, Miss Leighton. I thought that we had gone over this, but if you need to review it again, I would be more than thrilled to do so.” Her tone said anything but. The woman didn’t like her; that much Ella knew.
Locke’s eyebrows bounced, and Bishop barely stifled a laugh. Jerks, all of them.
“Observation, I understand. Can’t one of them observe me? They’re paid a lot of money to make sure that I don’t drop dead. And I’m still alive.”
Bishop grumbled, and Ella took a mental note. Bishop was taking this hard, placing blame on himself as much as she was, maybe. “You guys know what I mean.”
“I’m sure they have other things to do,” the nurse said.
“That is literally their job. They are doing it here, and they can do it anywhere.” She turned to Bishop and Locke. “Surely you two people have enough pull with”—Ella gestured wildly—“whomever to get me released from here.”
Both of them twisted their mouths and tilted their heads as though she were right, but neither of them made any move to comply with her wishes. Maybe there was another way. Hello!
“Release me against medical wishes, or whatever it’s called. Either way, I’m out of here. I’ll just hitchhike my way home.”
Bishop’s brow furrowed. “You’re not hitchhiking anywhere.”
Locke just shook his head as though he were glad he was secondary on her assignment. Truth be told, she was probably not the easiest person to work security for.
She laser-focused her attention on Bishop. “I will hitchhike all night, searching for big rigs and gas-guzzling trucks. Does that tell you how bad I want out of here?”
“Christ, come on already. Can’t you just chill and relax? Listen to what you’re supposed to do?” They faced off in a staring contest until Bishop blew out his frustration. “What do we have to sign to get her out of here?”
As though the nurse had been prepared for the conversation, she picked up a clipboard from the end of the bed, which she refused to sit on, flipped the pages, and handed it over. “Sign where marked. You’re leaving against medical advice.” She clucked her disapproval. “Good luck. I’ll give you a printout of what to be aware of. If those things pop up, come back to the emergency room.”
Ella scribbled her name where indicated. “I’ll be fine.”
“Sure you will.” She waited for the signatures then walked out of the room.
As soon as the door shut, Ella stifled a thousand comments about how she was fine and that everyone’s overreactions were causing her more issues than what had happened. “I’m not sure why she was hell-bent on hating me.”
Bishop grumbled. “People either love you or hate you, babe. We’re here because you’ve enraged a tree hugger.”
“Ella.” Locke worked his jaw back and forth. “First answer that comes to mind. Don’t think. Just answer. Who is it?”
Jay.
Her eyes rounded, and she dropped her chin, staring at the floor, shocked. Where had that come from? Sure, she was mad as hell at him. He’d lied to her, played games with her, and he’d clearly crossed the line about Bishop and with Tara. But never had she once thought Jay was creeping on her, not even in the back of her mind.
“Ella?” Locke pushed.
She pulled her gaze off the floor and sought comfort in Bishop’s eyes. His stare wasn’t entirely what she needed. Or maybe it was. Fiercely protective and equally angry, the man wanted vengeance and blood. He wanted to make the hell she’d been through stop, and wipe away her suffering. Amazing, she got that all from a glance.
“
Fuck, I thought so,” Bishop growled. Fury flexed in his jaw. Even the way he breathed flared his nostrils with hostile intention. If Jay had been in a thousand-yard radius, Ella would’ve been worried for his life.
“The FBI is all over Seneca, but whatever you just thought,” Locke said, his tone as serious as Bishop’s face, “you tell Angie Byrd if you won’t tell us.”
Years of happy memories, tough times, hard work, and future goals disappeared as she fought to find the simple words. During the last hours spent under hospital observation, she’d been fine. Now, Ella shook like a lavender sprig in a summer storm.
“It’s Jay, isn’t it?” she whispered.
They remained silent, but their menacing, hardened features said her opinion matched theirs. Bishop had pushed her to question Jay before, and she had pushed back. Locke, though, had no reason to pull a jealous ex-boyfriend card, and truly, neither did Bishop. He wanted her safe. She knew that. He wasn’t the jealous type. A man like that needed no comparison and had no competitors.
Ella had to realize it on her own, and the process took Manny’s injury to do so. Hot tears slipped free. “I need to talk to Agent Byrd now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Bishop had offered, but Ella had taken Locke up on the ride to the FBI appointment, needing to be away from the deep emotions and reactions that bubbled up when Bishop stood close. He acted as though he understood why she wanted Locke to take her to meet the FBI, and hopefully, she hadn’t hurt his feelings.
And now that she was here… This wasn’t what Ella thought the conference room would look like. A man about her age, wearing a suit and tie, had offered her water or coffee, maybe trying to make her comfortable, but nothing could.
The door opened, and Agent Byrd walked in as perfunctory as ever. Her face was an odd combination of comfort and let’s-get-down-to-business.
For the next thirty minutes, Ella poured her guts out. She recounted every thought, concern, and suspicion. She relived every second guess in vivid detail, explaining Jay’s changing behavior and her changing attitude toward him.
None of it was evidence. Nothing she shared had been informative, but it was cathartic. Agent Byrd occasionally picked up her pen and took a note, but mostly, she listened. When Ella came to a stop, her agent leaned back in the chair, put the pen down, and rubbed her chin.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Ella. There’s nothing concrete here.”
“I know.” Still, everything inside her felt shattered. “I just—”
“But,” Agent Byrd continued. “We’re on the same page. And I think he’s who we’re most interested in.”
The truth hurt.
“But Ella, you know this. Jay is smart, and the thing is, technology? It can be hard to trace. We need to have that one string in the sweater to pull, then that’s our in. We’re not there yet, but we’re looking. Until then, you need to be vigilant.”
“What do I do? And… what are you doing?” Ella asked quietly, feeling like a traitor.
“We need something to pinpoint him on, but we’re just shy of an arrest.” Agent Byrd clacked her teeth once in thought. “I’d say get a restraining order. There’s nothing to tie him to any of this. There’s nothing to tie it to anybody. You need to stay safe.” Agent Byrd sighed. “The problem with stalkers—and I need to be honest with you—the problem is that when things go bad, they go very bad, and there’s not much I can do beforehand.”
“Fantastic,” she mumbled.
“You have to be aware. You have to stay away. Extract yourself from the situation.”
“Which I’ve done,” Ella explained. “I broke up with him. I fired him.” All of which she already had said.
“On the surface, yes. But this is a whole new breed. There are online trolls. Online stalkers. Harassers. They know how to use technology and create profiles, hop IP addresses, use multiple SIM cards. The list goes on and on. It’s so cheap. Readily available…” She shook her head. “What we’re most vigilant about is the transition from the online fixation to real-life violence.”
“But he has done things in real life. Manny was hurt.”
“And now that he’s done that, and he’s spiraling, losing control, he’s going to make a mistake. But he’s also getting more dangerous. This was an attempted homicide. An attempt on your life. On Manny’s. We’re no longer talking about online games and hiring college kids. We’re talking about harming you. He wants the last word, and it’s murder.”
To hear those words come out of her mouth… Nobody had put it in those terms before, and she hadn’t even thought about it like that. Jay had tried to kill her. Tears leaked, and Ella wiped haphazardly at her cheeks and chin. Agent Byrd reached across the table and grabbed the tissue box, sliding it toward her.
“It’s just when you said that…” Ella sniffed. “I’m not sure how much more I can take. Everything I’ve understood about my world just changed.”
But was it really Jay? Or was her mind so clouded now as to reach for the improbable? Because murder? They had traveled the world together, saving animals, saving the innocents. “None of this makes sense. It’s just not like him. That’s not his personality. It’s not who he is to hurt another. What if I’m wrong?”
“Maybe you are.” Agent Byrd acknowledged that very possibility, which only served to confuse Ella further. Then the agent signaled to the window. “That’s why this is an investigation. Evidence trumps guesses as much as I rely on my instincts.”
“What do I do now?” Ella balled up the tissue. “I can’t keep Agent Byrd on my list of favorites forever.”
The door opened, and the person who had escorted her in dropped off a cup of water. Agent Byrd pushed it to her. “You can call me Angie, Ella.”
She sniffed. “Okay.”
“You grieve.” Angie laid it on the line. “You grieve the changes that you can’t control. The loved ones and friendships that you lose. When your world alters, and everything you think you knew may be wrong? And the people who are most loyal to you end up delivering the most pain?” She paused. “You grieve that loss but then grab onto your strength. You find it, and you rise.”
Ella wanted to believe she could do that. She breathed deep and swallowed a sip of water, trying to handle the pain in her throat.
“I’ve studied you enough, Ella, to know that you have an inner strength. Everyone has it. Some more prevalent than others. But it’s always there. You find it and move forward.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ella was nervous when she saw Bishop’s truck idling, waiting for her. But the nerves were for naught. He asked her one question: “Do you want to talk about it?” Then he easily accepted her succinct answer of “no.”
Angie’s words about strength stayed with Ella, and she appreciated that Bishop let her be alone with her own thoughts.
The drive took a long time, and she used that time to drift in and out of self-pity and question if she was wrong.
Bishop slowed down and turned off of the two-lane road onto a tire-track-cut driveway.
“We’re here?” she asked.
They rumbled over the uneven pathway. “Home of Bishop and Brick.”
This was exactly the kind of place she thought he would like. Trees made a canopy on both sides of the driveway. They wrapped around the corner and opened up to green space with a house sitting on top of a hill. A large dog tore out of the house.
“That’s Brick, right?”
“That is.”
“Did he come from inside?” Bishop had a doggie door? She wouldn’t think that was very secure. It seemed to her that he would’ve had a tougher security system.
“He has the run of the place.”
“What about an alarm? Doesn’t he set that off?”
“Like a security system?”
“Exactly.”
Bishop laughed. “Brick is the security system.”
Oh… It took them another minute to roll up the driveway, and a few moments to unload and
for her to meet Brick. He gave her a lot of love, but she could tell he was every bit the security system that Bishop had called him.
They walked into his house. The last time she’d actually been in a place that Bishop called home was when they were in college. This place looked like him. It was comfortable and practical, with homage paid to his dog and his time spent in the army. It was bigger than she thought it would’ve been and had more green space. And it was very clean, even though he joked about her place being cleaner than his. Maybe a little sparse, but nothing unexpected. This house was real grown-up Bishop.
“I’m going to go check something upstairs and be back in a minute. You need anything? Shower? TV? Bourbon…?”
“No, I’m going to nurse my water and nose around.”
“Good. Snoop all you want. I thought you’d say something like you needed to talk to Tara—”
“Well, that too.”
He shook his head. “Sometimes, I think you’re a masochist.” Then he walked down the hall.
Ella took a sip of her water and put it on the counter. She’d carried that cup of water all the way from the FBI headquarters, focusing on it instead of her phone. Now it was time.
She pulled out her phone and saw that Tara had texted.
TARA: Huge response online today. It leaked that you were in an accident. So always an upside.
Ella threw her phone into her purse only to dig it out and slam it back in. Not responding to Tara would adequately convey how she wanted to wring her publicist’s neck. But she couldn’t because she was too busy wiping away tears. Frustrated ones. Angry ones. There wasn’t an upside to this! She was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do.
She drank the remaining water and went to throw the cup away. Ella opened the cabinet and froze. She expected some ugly black industrial trash can, but what met her gaze were two receptacles, including one labeled “RECYCLING.”
She blinked, dumbfounded, as the cup she’d held onto since she left the FBI field office crushed in her hand. Almost in a state of shock, she slid the recycling bin forward and faltered at the contents. Crushed cans. Bishop had crushed all his cans. She couldn’t look away. It was so stupid, so simple. The guy gave no craps about landfills, not two shits about the size of the cans if he were going to recycle. But there it was, staring back at her.
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