Page 113 of Ruthless Bishop (Sinners and Saints 3)

“No you don’t!” The sound of his feet pounding on the creaking wooden stairs will haunt me forever if I make it out of this alive.

I scream as his weight collides into my back once I’ve made it through the basement door, tackling me. We land against the kitchen table, shattering a glass in the fall. It cuts one of my palms as I try to push him off. From this angle, the best I can manage is stabbing the small screwdriver clutched in my grip into Mr. Coleman’s leg, squeezing so hard the handle hurts the bones in my hand. He lets out a furious shout as we thrash against the table.

“You’re all mine, princess.” He hisses into the back of my neck, breath humid. “Your knight will take good care of you.”

A heavy bang sounds nearby. Mr. Coleman growls.

Pinned in place with my stalker panting against my neck, I fear for my life. Tears stream down my face while I struggle, my breaths coming short and fast, burning my lungs.

My heart breaks in a splintering mess.

I wasn’t good enough. Not strong enough or fast enough. Not brave enough. I didn’t escape.

Am I about to end up like my mother’s dead sister after all?

Thirty-Eight

Connor

Thea’s Mini Cooper is the first thing I spot when I whip onto Coleman’s street. I park crookedly behind it and check the handgun once I load the full magazine. There’s no time to waste. It’s past dusk now, making it easier for me to sneak around Coleman’s house in the dark.

The cops haven’t arrived yet.

“Where are they?”

Five to six minute response time, my ass. I made it in under fifteen minutes breaking every speeding law. With a muffled, aggravated exhale, I circle toward the backyard.

No lights are on in any of the windows. I strain my ears, listening for any sign of life in the house. It’s hard to focus when my pulse won’t stop pounding over everything. If they aren’t here, he could’ve taken her to a second location.

Thea has to be here.

Keeping low, I creep up to the back door, gun squeezed in my grip.

All bets are off once I hear a shout. The back door is locked when I grab the knob. There isn’t a window to smash to reach in and unlock it. Coleman’s house is older, maybe I can—

Thea’s scream followed by a crash makes my heart stutter.

“Fuck!”

Stepping back to center myself, I kick next to the knob as hard as I can. The old wood cracks, but it’s not good enough. Nothing will keep me from getting in this fucking house. With a grunt, I kick again, then another. The frame breaks as I bust through the door.

It’s mostly dark, the only light coming from an open basement door, but I make out Coleman pinning Thea to the table in the middle of the kitchen. He wrenches his head up, glaring in my direction. I slap my hand against the wall and flick on the light. Coleman squints as the brightness blinds him momentarily.

“Connor!” Thea screams, desperate and pleading as she struggles beneath her attacker, craning her neck to see me.

“I’m here!”

Coleman snarls, bracing his forearm against the back of Thea’s shoulders to keep her in place. There are splotches of blood on her white coat—hers or his? She chokes on a sob, nails scrabbling for purchase on the table amidst broken glass.

The sight of Coleman on top of her, the tears staining her blotchy cheeks, her terrified cry, it all makes me wild with the need to protect her.

“Get the fuck off of her!” I lift the gun to make the threat clear, my savage yell echoing in the room. I hope the neighbors hear the commotion of the break in or the goddamn police get here soon.

“What are you doing here? Leave, or I’ll call the cops,” Coleman sneers. “You’re not wanted.”

“Nah, man. Not a chance in hell.” I bark out a laugh. “The cops? Already on their way. Besides, you think they’ll care about busting in your back door when they find out what the fuck you like to get up to? They already know. You’re finished.” I level the gun, aiming at Coleman. My tone turns deadly. “Now get the fuck off.”

Coleman ignores the gun pointed at him and plasters himself over Thea’s back, messing up my clean shot. He angles his head and shoots me an evil smirk. “You won’t do it. You’re nothing but a spoiled, cocky pissant playing hero.”

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