Page 194 of Bishop

“Fine. But if I don’t hear from either of you in ten, I’m following regardless.”

Bishop’s hands squeak against the steering wheel before he growls, “I’ll text you when we arrive.”

He disconnects the call, the finality leaving me chilled.

This is it. I’m about to meet my daughter and the people who raised her, and I have no clue what to say.

Hi, I’m Tilly’s biological mother and you need to pack your worldly belongings and relocate somewhere far, far away, doesn’t seem like the best first impression—not that I’ve been great in making those tonight.

Bishop takes a left turn, then a final right onto Bayvis Street, and my heart lurches. The only glow of illumination comes from a mile or so up ahead, the house lights marrying up with the final destination dot on the GPS.

Bishop turns off the headlights and slows our approach. “There it is.”

I nod, my palms sweating as Tilly’s life takes shape in front of me.

She lives in what looks to be a quaint red-brick home with a wraparound porch and a tiny attic window above the front door. The yard is lush and green, the red rose bushes coming into view as the car slithers closer. When I squint, I can make out a metal swing set alongside a small pink slide.

My daughter grew from a baby into a toddler here. She sits on those swings. Slides down that slide.

I lower my window, wanting to experience more of Tilly’s surroundings, needing to inhale the air she breathes as we inch closer, the road crunching beneath the car tires.

Bishop stops a few hundred feet away from the dirt drive, quiet as he scrubs a hand over his mouth.

I glance at him, sensing his unease. “What is it?”

“The car. The lights.”

I frown, glancing back at the property, taking note of the black vehicle parked in front of the garage. My heart sinks. “You think that’s my mom’s car?”

“Maybe. But with the porch lights on when it’s close to midnight, it’s a safe bet they have visitors.”

The tremble returns to my hands, the adrenaline making a comeback. “What do we do?”

He pulls to the side of the road, turns off the interior light, then cuts the ignition. “I’m going to check it out and see what we’re up against. I want you to get in the driver’s seat while I’m gone. Just in case.”

“In case what? I’m not leaving without my daughter. Or you for that matter.”

“You’ll vow to leave at the first sign of danger or I’ll restart this car right now and dump you with your brothers, you hear me?” His tone brooks no argument. His narrowed, lethal stare, too.

“Bishop, you can’t expect—”

“I don’t just expect it, I fucking demand it. You’re not putting yourself in danger again, Abri. I won’t allow it.”

My stomach twists. “But what if—”

“You either trust me to handle this or you get babysat. What’s it going to be?”

I want to curse at him. To protest and fight. But I’m too wrecked, my confidence flittering in and out of stable currents like a feather in the wind. “Okay.”

He stares at me a moment. Reading me. Scrutinizing me.

Until finally he gets out of the car, walks around the hood, and silently pulls my door open. “The key.” He holds out the fob, grasping my hand when I reach to take it. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

I stare into his eyes, my heart aching.

“Promise me, belladonna.”

I sigh. “What happens if my mom leaves the house with Tilly?”

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