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Bishop rubbed his face. When she had come home, he’d spent all night with her. Every minute of that time had been spent wide awake, reminding her that she had been missed.
Something moved in his peripheral vision. He turned as Locke did too.
“What the hell?” Bishop jumped up, and Locke muttered the same as he bounded up also.
Manny’s van moved in the parking lot at the top of the hill. Slowly at first. Enough that both he and Locke stared, stupefied. Then the slow roll turned into a rush. The hill was steep, and Ella and Manny sat in the van’s path with their backs to it, staring at a screen and wearing big fuzzy headphones.
Bishop and Locke sprinted forward. Bishop’s mind was racing. “Ella!”
“Who’s in there?” Locke shouted.
Bishop’s eyes narrowed, but the angle made the windshield hard to see. “No one!”
He veered toward Ella and Manny, who were still oblivious. “Move!”
Neither did. What were those fucking headphones? Noise cancelling? How loud was their audio?
“Go,” Locke shouted, but Bishop was already pivoting downhill. Locke angled toward the van as it gained speed. What was Locke going to do? Climb in and divert?
“Ella!” Bishop charged down the hill, arms pumping and thighs burning as he hollered for them to look up. How did Ella not see the commotion in her peripheral? That screen in their laps—they were glued to it. “Manny, move!”
But they were too far away.Fuck it.Two choices: get them out of the way or make them move. He pulled out his sidearm and fired into the air. Ella and Manny startled and spun, seeing the van.
They froze. Fuck it. They froze.
Flight or fright, and those two chose the wrong fucking thing to do.
“No!” Bishop powered as fast as he could. “Move! Move, now!”
His heart was in his chest. His lungs pounded. He couldn’t run any faster. Locke stopped short out of the corner of Bishop’s eye. His teammate had his gun in hand and—bam, bam, blast—the back tire blew out, trajectory and speed only slightly altered and not enough.
That shocked Ella to stand up, but Manny didn’t. She clung to him, was right by his side, both of them shouting and yelling.
These had been the longest seconds of Bishop’s life, and the last two were an eternity. Bishop wanted to scream, “leave him,” but neither he nor she would.
Bishop threw his arms out, praying to God, and dove for them. He caught Ella by the waist, twisting and spinning, throwing her out of the way, grabbing Manny by the shoulder, and—slam.
Bishop went down. Cold metal hit him like a football team clad in armor. He spun, losing his grip. Losing himself. His face hit the ground, dirt and grass in his mouth. When he realized where he was, he opened his fists—and his hands were empty.
Rolling over—hell, that hurt—his head spun.
“Don’t move,” Locke said from somewhere to somebody.
His elbow reached behind him, pushing up, and a splitting headache made the skyline tilt sideways. “Eloise—Ella?”
“Stay down, Bishop,” Locke ordered.
No, thank you. Fucking hell. His head spun, and his stomach roiled. Where was she?
Hands cupped his face. “Bishop? Are you okay?”
Relief rolled through his confused mind. “Yes.”Thank fuck.He dropped back, needing to catch his breath. Now he could stay down. Now… Panting, he just needed to know she was fine.
“Promise me!” Ella demanded.
“Yes, babe. I promise.” Bishop wheezed, catching the breath that had been punted out of him by a van grill. “Give me a minute.”
Squeezing his eyes shut once more, all he could remember was Ella’s scared face the microsecond before the impact. All he could see was his world coming to an end as terror screamed in her eyes and her mouth gaped silently.