Bishop (Endgame Book 3)

by Riley Ashby

  I spent much more time on the internet. There were new books released I wanted to catch up on, and other former possessions of mine that I wanted to replace. The entire time, I was mindful it was Archer’s money I was spending. If it was Ellery’s, I wouldn’t have cared. I could have bought out the internet, and he wouldn’t have noticed, but I wanted to make sure I was cautious with Archer’s card. I was shocked he had ordered this duplicate card for me knowing I would ask for money, and I didn’t intend to make him regret deciding to help me.

  My heart leaped when he woke me one day, only to realize the only reason he was speaking was to force me out the door to my next therapy session. He stood guard in the living room while I changed from the pajamas I had been living in into something more appropriate for the wider world.

  I tried to make conversation with him in the hallway and elevator, but it was probably more awkward for me than it was for him. I had no idea what to ask him. I knew he hadn’t gone anywhere, and neither had I. We had no new experiences to share with each other, and I doubted he was interested in the plots of my romance books.

  I was happy enough in my little apartment with its wide windows that allowed me to see the outside world without actually touching it. Was he going stir-crazy? Did he wish I had asked to go out for a meal, visit a museum, or do anything besides watch sitcoms and binge happy-go-lucky romance novellas? If so, he wasn’t giving it away. He finally spoke his longest sentence in a week as we stepped into the lobby.

  “Wait here and I’ll flag down a cab.”

  I rolled my eyes at his overprotectiveness—Chad wasn’t going to just snatch me off the sidewalk—but in truth, I didn’t mind waiting in the air-conditioned lobby one bit while he went into the heat. It was nice that someone was actually doing something for me that was in my best interest, even if he was only doing it because he was getting paid for it—or so he continued to remind me. I wandered back and forth in a small circle, looking around the high-ceilinged lobby with all its filigree and Gatsby-style decorations.

  “Miss Tabor?”

  The man sitting at the security desk was looking at me curiously, trying to see my face.

  “That’s me,” I said nervously, taking a step back.

  He held up a white business envelope. “This came for you a minute ago.”

  Another letter! I looked outside; Archer was still standing at the curb searching for our transportation. I hustled over to the security desk and took the envelope with a smile.

  “Thank you so much. Do you know who dropped it off?”

  He shook his head. “Came in with a grocery delivery, actually. After the other resident had taken away their bags, this was left on the counter.”

  I frowned. Chad was getting creative. Why wouldn’t he just come out and talk to me?

  The door whooshed open behind me, and I hurriedly shoved the envelope into my purse before turning around. If Archer knew about this, he’d confiscate it for sure.

  “Let’s go, Josie. We’re not going to be late.”

  I rolled my eyes as he hustled me into the car. He promised the driver an extra tip if he could get us there in under ten minutes, and the driver took it to heart. I found myself clutching Archer’s arm without pretense as we weaved in and out of traffic and around corners at breakneck speed. Still, he jerked his arm away too quickly when we pulled up to the office. He all but pushed me into the bland, sepia-toned lobby and checked me in as the clock struck my appointment time.

  I planned to remain silent again, but the doctor caught me off guard with his first statement.

  “Let’s talk about Bryce.”

  I caught myself smiling but decided to let myself show it. What was the point of hiding my feelings from him? “He prefers to go by Archer.”

  “Is that his last name?”

  “Yeah. I think he was military before he joined the FBI.”

  “So he’s used to being in positions of authority.”

  I nodded. “He always knows what he’s doing.”

  “Always?”

  I thought back to the night in the cab, the way he kissed me so tight and then admitted the truth. How devastated it left me for days after. “Most of the time.”

  “It seems like you lean on him a lot.”

  “He was there in the hospital with me after I blew apart my hand. He helped me eat real food. He kept me company when my pain was almost too much to take. He does more than act like a bodyguard … he really cares about my well-being.”

  He nodded, making a couple of notes. “Sometimes it’s very easy to feel a connection with people whose job it is to take care of us.”

  I sighed and rubbed my temples. I knew that was where he was going eventually. “That’s not what this is. He’s a good person. He helped make sure the people who hurt me are going to jail forever.”

  “So you feel like you owe him?”

  I opened my mouth to reply, then snapped it shut. Was that what I felt? “I don’t think so. He’s never asked for anything in return.” I frowned. He’d never asked for thanks, but I’d also never offered it to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever told him thank you for all his help.”

  I waited for a response, but the doctor regarded me with a blank expression, waiting for me to continue. I scraped my thumbnail against the back of my hand and thought.

  “He also gave me money when I asked since I can’t work right now. His own money. He didn’t ask me to pay it back, just to be judicious with my spending.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  I flushed with the memory of the glow I felt when he handed me the card and how I made the snap decision to turn on the charm and try to seduce him. It hadn’t even been conscious. He had given me the gift without any expectation of restitution, and then I tried to come on to him again. And it had worked, kind of. I’d seen the look in his eyes before he turned away after I called him daddy. He liked it. But I hadn’t really registered that he hadn’t asked for future repayment. Some part of me had just assumed he would take it another way, sometime in the future, and I responded accordingly so he would be gentle when he did. But there had never been an expectation of sex as repayment with Archer, and I knew there never would be. He wasn’t that kind of person.

  “What’s going on in your head, Josie?”

  I snapped out of my trance to find the doctor looking at me, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

  “It made me feel like I owed him,” I whispered. “But not, like, afraid of him. Like I wanted to pay him back somehow.”

  “Somehow?”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. Was I really going to tell this man I wanted to pay my debts with my body?

  God, Archer was right. I wanted him because of who he reminded me of. And how fucked up was that? How must that make him feel, knowing he reminds me of the man who beat and raped me for months, and I wanted to sleep with him because of it? It was so selfish of me to keep pushing him, especially when he saw through me so clearly. This wasn’t some little boy I could manipulate into doing nice things for me; Archer was a man who had seen the worst of humanity and the effects it had on the people left behind. He didn’t need me to weigh him down with my issues.

  But then … why did he kiss me last week?

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t sit here and try to beat back what I felt for Archer. Not when purging him from my mind meant leaving room for the other things.

  “I don’t want to think about him anymore.”

  “We can move on to …”

  “I didn’t mean Archer.”

  He was blessedly silent for few minutes while I tried to fight back my tears. “You mean the man who held you captive?”

  I nodded. “He’s always in my head. If I’d managed to kill myself, I wouldn’t have to think about him anymore.” Tears fell without permission. “And when I touch Archer, it just goes away. He doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just Bryce. I don’t feel the bad things.”

  “You said that Archer is leaving eve
ntually.”

  I knew what he was getting at. “If I lean on Archer now, when he leaves, I’ll be right back here.”

  He let me think while I tried to stop crying and prepare my face for the rest of the world.

  That was one hell of a burden for someone to take on. Regardless of whether Archer was ready to be the person to try to free me from my memories, did I want to entrust him with my entire mental well-being? We knew this arrangement wasn’t permanent. He’d been clear about that from the first time we spoke.

  “I’m afraid that’s our time for today.” The doctor’s soft voice brought me out of my reverie once more, and I glanced at the clock to see it had indeed been an hour. How much time had I spent inside my own head?

  “Sorry I didn’t say much,” I muttered.

  “On the contrary.” He stood and walked to his desk, replacing his notebook and preparing for his next patient. “You said quite a bit, just not with words. I think you made some progress today.”

  I shook his hand and rushed out the door before he could say more. I had to be in control of myself when I saw Archer again.

  I’d told the therapist Archer was a good person, but I couldn’t shake the memory of what I’d learned about why he left the FBI. Bad people in the world were able to continue doing bad things because he let them go. And he was right; whatever his reason behind those decisions didn’t make up for what had happened because they were still free to commit crimes.

  Was it possible for him to have done something awful and still be a good person? I’d been made to do some awful things myself. Despite everything I’d been through and everything that had happened to me, I still felt like a good person. Couldn’t the same thinking apply to Archer?

  Did it even matter, knowing what I now knew about myself? Now that I’d given words to why I’d latched on to him so tightly … and knew why I had to let him go?

  He was reading his book in the lobby when I walked out, and he stood to push it into the back pocket of his jeans as I approached him. He had transformed a lot since the first time I’d seen him, out of his suit and into a white T-shirt with jeans. I could see the ink of his tattoos through the thin fabric, and I had to tear my eyes up to his face.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “Fine. Can we go home now?” I started to regret opening up at all the minute I stood from the couch. I should have kept my damn mouth shut. Now the doctor would want to talk about Archer every time.

  He nodded. “Wait here. I’ll get a car.”

  I suddenly remembered the envelope in my purse. I could wait to look at it until we got back, but I wanted to see it now. It had been burning a hole in my purse the entire session. “Actually, can I use the bathroom first?”

  He frowned at me a little. “You don’t need to ask my permission.”

  I flushed and ran for the bathroom before he could say anything else. How did he manage to pick up on those little remnants of my victim’s personality? It was embarrassing how attuned he was to me, knowing we couldn’t be anything more.

  In the bathroom, I slipped into a stall and pulled out the envelope, noting the lack of stamp and return address. Archer said the other envelope was the same, so this must be from the same person. Inside the envelope were two more pictures—one from my childhood and one from high school again. It was our graduation this time, and I was standing with my arm around one of my friends. I flipped it over to the back to see the words, “It’ll be soon.”

  Looking back at the picture, I squinted a little closer. There, in the background, was Chad. He was grinning at the camera as though he was part of the picture, not merely happened to be caught in the background.

  I shoved the photos in my pocket as there was a pounding on the door.

  “Car is here, Josie.”

  “I’ll be right out!” I flushed the toilet and washed my hands for good measure, then joined Archer in the lobby. We rode in silence back to the apartment, and I caught him looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

  He finally broke the silence as he followed me into my apartment. “Is everything okay with you? Did the appointment go all right?”

  I noticed for the first time how anxious he was. He was bursting at the seams, antsy and restless with how quiet I was being. Why did he want to talk to me all of a sudden?

  “We can find you another doctor if he makes you uncomfortable. I was worried about sending you to see a man, but he was the only one who could see you on such short notice. I could find a female if you want. You don’t have to go back there.”

  He was already on his phone, no doubt scrolling through listings of female psychiatrists in the area. I reached out and put my hand over his, lowering the phone. He looked at me, brow furrowed.

  “It’s okay, Archer. He’s fine. I’d like to keep seeing him.”

  He looked like he didn’t believe me. I took a deep breath, already feeling myself flushing as the blood rushed to my face. Better to get it all out in one go.

  “I wanted to say thank you for the money and the computer. I know you don’t have to do that, and I promise I’m not going to spend wildly. And I’m sorry for all the times I tried to pressure you into … stuff.” God, could I really not say sex? “It was inappropriate of me, and I should have stopped when you said it made you uncomfortable.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time, finally clearing his throat and looking away. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I went into the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. Being around Archer always made my throat dry up.

  “Do you want to have dinner tonight?”

  I sputtered a little. After a week of avoiding me, all it took was an apology for him to want to hang out with me again?

  I wiped my upper lip before turning around. “That would be nice.”

  His nod was jerky as if he wasn’t in complete control of his movements. “I’ll make something. Come on over around six.”

  “Okay.” It came out as a whisper, so I cleared my throat. “Okay, sure.”

  We stood awkwardly for a while, looking everywhere but at each other. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he said and finally disappeared through the side door, leaving it wide open so he could hear me if I called for anything.

  “What?” I whispered to myself. I had hoped things would be a little bit easier once I apologized, but I wasn’t expecting a dinner invitation. What was his game? Was it really just a little apology he was looking for?

  What would tonight be like?

  I sprinted to my room, sorting through the dresses in the closet. I grabbed a tiny black dress and actually started to put it on before I halted.

  No more flirting, remember?

  I looked through the clothes a little more slowly, finally deciding to leave on my jeans and change into a nicer blouse. I did a quick touch-up on my makeup but no heavy eyeshadow. Just to look nice, for a nice dinner, with a nice friend.

  I had just today noticed the landline next to my bed, one I suspected was for communicating within the building. We’d had one at home growing up, so I supposed I glanced over it at first, though it was out of place in this world of cell phones. I happened to be staring at it when a red light started blinking.

  I hesitated at first, wondering what to do, then snatched the handset. I knew what the message would say, and I didn’t want Archer hearing it first. The recorded voice informed me that there was indeed another letter waiting for me downstairs.

  I looked at the clock—five minutes to six. Did I have time to run down and grab the envelope before dinner? It would be cutting it close. What if he came looking for me?

  The sounds from Archer’s kitchen masked the noise of my door opening, and I ran down ten flights of stairs rather than wait for the elevator. I was panting by the time I got to the lobby and slapped the button for the elevator—no way was I walking back up.

  “There’s a letter for me?” I asked breathlessly. The man at the front desk nodded hesitantly as he took in my heaving chest but h
anded me the envelope all the same. I jumped into the elevator the moment it arrived in the lobby and slipped back into my apartment noiselessly.

  I looked at the clock. It was already after six so examining the contents would have to wait. I slipped it into a drawer in the kitchen and took one final deep breath before crossing the threshold to Archer’s domain.

  I really only had one recipe memorized by heart, but it was homemade macaroni and cheese, and I knew every girl liked macaroni and cheese, so I felt pretty confident it would impress.

  Not that I wanted or needed to impress her.

  It was probably one of the unhealthiest meals on the planet, but I wanted to put some more weight on her. It had been amazing to watch her transform in the hospital; her cheeks filling out and eyes looking less sunken as they transitioned her from fluids to clear solids and then to regular food. It became a goal of mine to see how much I could get her to put down, picking up whatever smelled good when I went outside onto the street and then watching her face light up when I came back with loaded nachos or greasy fries. The way she smiled when I sat on her bed and cut food too big for her to hold in one hand, and the contented look on her face when she settled back after finally ingesting some calories that actually tasted good. I wanted to keep that upward trend and make sure her body and mind kept getting what they needed in order to repair.

  The range of emotion she experienced was always so startling to me. I had seen women come out of situations like hers completely dead inside, unwilling to crack a smile even when seeing their husbands or children again. But since waking up after almost dying, she seemed opened to new experiences for the most part. Her face transformed as she read, mouth dropping open in shock and then curving up into a smile, even hiding her face against her arm and reading with one eye when whatever was on the page overwhelmed her. She cried at sad parts and laughed out loud at jokes. Beneath it all, I remembered the feel of her body in my arms as she trembled uncontrollably, completely unable to stop crying, clinging to me as if she were flying apart.

  She thought I didn’t see her, but I did. I saw everything.