Page 206 of Bishop

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Where’s he going?”

“I don’t know.” He slides in and buckles his belt. “Have you got the keys to this thing?”

“They’re in the console. But I’m not leaving without him.”

“I’m going to politely request you change your mind so that scary mofo doesn’t kill me for my disobedience.” He presses the ignition, the engine humming to life. “Hold onto her. I need to get us out of here before the house blows.”

My heart skips a beat, the fear, panic, and confusion overwhelming. “But what about Bishop?”

“I’m pretty sure that guy makes the devil shit his pants, so I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He shifts into drive and takes off.

I quickly pull the belt around Tilly, clasping us tighter together, her arms clinging to my neck. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re going somewhere safe.”

At least I hope we are.

I just don’t want to go there without the only man who’s ever fought to protect me. To protect us.

I try to catch sight of him through the darkness, to gain just a glimpse in the hopes of deciphering what his abrupt rejection means. Is he concussed? Confused?

The pained beat in my chest says it’s neither of those things. That Bishop’s dismissal has everything to do with my actions tonight. How I betrayed him by fleeing the safe house. How I broke my promise to stay in the car and almost got him killed.

And worst of all—how I dared to seduce him. How I begged him to turn a blind eye to his abstinence despite knowing how much it meant to him.

“Seriously, Abri, don’t worry about him,” Remy murmurs. “He’ll be fine.”

I nod, hoping he’s right, praying I get a chance to apologize, when an explosion thunders through the silence, the bright glow of flames illuminating the sky.

I flinch. Tilly whimpers.

“It’s just fireworks, little one.” Remy smiles at her. “Someone must be having a party.”

My heart hurts. For his compassion through the carnage. For Bishop’s absence in the midst of my growing anxiety. For the beautiful girl who trembles in a stranger’s arms.

I glance to the side mirror. Fire smothers the house.

“What about our uncle and Salvatore?” I whisper. “Where are they?”

“Right behind us.” Remy takes the next corner, heading back toward Denver.

“And what about her?” I stare at him, attempting to read anything he might try to hide. “Was she left behind?”

“No.” He keeps his attention on the road. “She’s in the car with Lorenzo and his driver.”

I stiffen. “I thought Bishop…”

I don’t finish the sentence. I can’t. Not in front of Tilly.

“Lorenzo forbid it.” My brother shoots me a pitying glance. “To say Bishop was unhappy about the instruction was an understatement. And I don’t blame him. With that bullet wound, the poor guy isn’t going to need to dress up for Halloween for the rest of his life.”

Remorse twists at my gut.

I drag my stare out the window, the whirlpool inside me spinning faster and faster as I cling to my little girl. Anger mixes with devastation. Anxiety with regret.

I wish my mother was dead, but that yearning also comes with guilt. And the heavy agony where I’m left to mourn something I never had—a maternal nurturer. Someone who should’ve been everything good, kind, and comforting. Instead, she was cruel, mean, and heartless.

A soft hum of vibration drags my attention back to Remy. He pulls his cell from his pants pocket and answers a call.

“Pull over,” Salvatore says loud enough for me to hear. “Lorenzo needs to talk to Abri.”

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