Page 137 of Bishop's Queen

Still, every step she took exacerbated the feeling that something was off. The farther she got, the more he was concerned. Bishop’s eyes tracked behind stage, seeing the expected chaos, but nothing out of the ordinary.

The hairs on his arm stood like soldiers readying for war. The ones on the back of his neck jumped to attention. His cold chill escalated, crawling across his shoulder blades, and sweat dampened his shirt underneath his tuxedo jacket.

Hesitant, he brought his wrist to his mouth again, chewing his bottom lip. “Locke, does anything seem out of place?”

“That’s a negative.”

“Parker?” Bishop couldn’t see across the stage for all of the glaring lights. Then all went dark as the large screens showed a video montage about Ella’s category. Something about best in documentaries on TV, but Bishop didn’t give a crap about what was on the screen.

“Not that were seeing, buddy. What’s up?”

What the hell was he supposed to tell Parker? That he had a feeling his girlfriend—hisex-girlfriend—was in a bad spot? They already knew that. He probably just had nerves by proxy. He’d never felt so out of place before in his life. This was the antithesis of being on an Afghani mountain in the middle of nowhere on the back of a donkey while carrying a gun.

“Bishop,” Parker ordered. “Spit it out.”

“Something’s wrong. I don’t know it. I feel it.”

“Feel what?”

Bishop shook his head, unable to explain. “Locke, is Tara with you?”

“Affirmative.”

“Shhhh,” the guy with the clipboard hissed.

Bishop glared until the man shrank down even though he took a step back and focused on his conversation with Parker and Locke. “Ask about the bracelet. She’s wearing a bracelet.”

“Hang on.”

Seconds felt like eternity until Locke came back. “Tara said that it is uglier than hell and she wants to have Bishop’s ass for letting her walk onstage with it—And if that was hisI’m sorrygift, she had things to teach him.”

Both Locke and Parker chuckled, and if his guts hadn’t bottomed out, he would have had something to say. “I didn’t give that to her. Ella said it was waiting for her. Something from the awards show?”

Locke relayed that information and came back at breakneck speed. “Tara said no way. She would’ve known prior.”

If his stomach had bottomed before, now Bishop’s insides catapulted to a layer of remorse he’d never experienced—not in war, not since the realization that his sister had died and he could’ve prevented it. Ella had a piece of metal wrapped around her arm, and he couldn’t place its origin.

“It was in her green room?” Parker questioned.

“Yes.” Bishop’s unease choked him tighter than the sashes around the giant velvet ropes along the stage.

“Staff, security, and talent…” Parker’s voice trailed off. “Are the only people that had backstage access. I’m rushing through their surveillance footage. Give me a second for facial rec.”

Onstage, the spotlight followed Ella as she met a Hollywood movie star that Bishop recognized. He watched the man guide her safely to a podium, where they smiled and laughed as if they had known each other for years.

Good job, El.

Ella mastered the audience, and she and the actor effortlessly flowed into their lines. They bantered back and forth, pausing perfectly and nailing their timing. Their presentation was scheduled to take five minutes, and they were less than a minute in.

“Fuck.”

Parker’s one word stopped Bishop’s heart. “What?”

“I don’t know what the deal is with that bracelet, but I do know that Jay Graff is on video with the Eco-Ella credentials wrapped around his neck, walking into Ella’s green room hours before you guys got there.”

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