Page 2

Bishop

Outside the building were three cars. I pushed the button on the keys and walked to the one whose lights flashed. Once in the driver’s seat, I leaned across the center console and opened the glove compartment. Inside was another handgun, a driver’s license, and a packet of wet wipes. I took the gun, checked the mag, and placed it on the passenger seat next to the two I’d taken from inside. The driver’s license was next.

Sandro Trebuni . The name meant nothing to me.

The photograph was of the man who had tried to interrogate me. I put that with the guns, then checked the time. I had less than thirty minutes to get to the airport, but I needed to go back to the hotel first. It was going to be tight, so I had to be fast if I wanted to make it.

Jamming the key into the ignition, I started the car. Just before the engine roared to life, there was a muffled thud from the back of the car.

I cocked my head.

What was that?

I cut off the engine and listened.

Nothing.

As I was about to start the engine again, there was another muted bang. I frowned. It definitely seemed to be coming from the back of the car. I grabbed one of the guns and climbed out.

Skirting around to the back of the car, I looked down at the trunk. Another thud sounded. I popped the lock … and revealed a body hogtied inside it.

Face down with a hood covering their features, their hands and feet had been pulled behind their back and tied together, it was hard to say whether the figure was male or female, especially in the dark. The shape wriggled while I watched, and muffled moaning reached me. At a guess, I’d say their mouth had been taped closed.

Rubbing the muzzle of the gun across my jaw, I considered my options. I could leave them there and drop an anonymous call to the police once I was at the airstrip … or I could find out who they were.

Could they be something to do with why I’d been grabbed? If so, they might know who was behind it, which would save me the hassle of tracking them down.

I checked the time again. Wade was going to fucking shoot me. There was no way I could avoid being late. I needed to find a phone and let him know. Slamming down the lid of the trunk, I rounded the car and climbed back in. Whoever they were, they’d keep for another fifteen minutes. I’d get my shit together and then deal with it.

I drove out of the abandoned trading site, and followed the roads until I started recognizing the sights, and then found my way back to the hotel. I didn’t park there, though. I found a deserted side road, wiped down my fingerprints off the car and left it there, walking the block back to the hotel.

The hotel lobby was silent and empty when I entered, and I got back to my room without being seen. Once inside, I found my cell where I’d left it beside the bed and called Knight.

“Bishop.” As always, my youngest brother was wide awake.

“Run a search on the name Sandro Trebuni for me. I want to know who he worked for.”

“Worked?”

“He met with an accident a little while ago.”

My brother laughed. “Was the accident six five, temperamental and named after a chess piece?”

“Might have been.” I dragged my suitcase out of the closet and tossed clothes into it.” He was asking after someone called Eden Marshall.”

“Oh? Do you know who she is and why they were asking?”

“I’m guessing she pissed someone off. That’s where you come in. I want to know who is looking for her and why. I should be back home tomorrow night. Tell me what you find then. I have to go.” I cut the call before he could respond.

Once I had everything packed, I went into the bathroom and grabbed the toiletries I’d left there, tossed them into the case, and then pulled on fresh clothes. I wiped down all the surfaces in the suite to remove my fingerprints, then picked up my case, the bag containing my laptop, and walked out.

I’d already paid my hotel bill, so there was no reason for me to linger and I made my way to my car. I tossed my stuff into the trunk, then checked the time. Fifteen minutes. Glancing back down the block, I sighed, locked the car, and set off toward the side road where I’d left the other vehicle.

When I arrived, I unlocked the trunk, threw it open, reached into my pocket for my switchblade, and leaned over.

“Don’t move.”

A muffled yelp sounded, and the body tried to wriggle toward the back of the trunk.

“I’m holding a knife. I want to cut the hood off your head. If you keep moving, I might accidentally stab you. While I personally don’t care either way, I doubt you want to bleed out in the trunk of a car.”

The body froze.

“Better. Now stay still .” I cut a hole through the material, then grasped each side with my fingers and ripped it apart. Dark red hair spilled over my hands. I pushed it away and got my first look at the person lying there.

Female, for sure. It was hard to tell much more than that. Blood and a purple bruise marred one cheek. Tape covered most of the lower half of her face. Eyes wide and full of … was that anger ? … stared up at me.

Tossing the hood to one side, I moved to the duct tape around her wrists.

“Hands now. I don’t know how long you’ve been like this, so be aware that when I release you and the blood returns to your extremities, it might hurt.” I sliced through the tape, and straightened her arms and legs as best I could in the confines of the trunk of the car.

“Can you sit up?” I reached in, ignored her when she shrank back, and wrapped my hands around her arms to haul her upright. She glared at me and lifted one hand to pull the tape away. I caught her wrist, stopping her. “It looks like there’s blood dried to the tape. Let me check you’re not going to rip away a scab or something first.”

Her eyes continued to shoot fire at me, but she dropped her hand. I pressed a finger beneath her chin and tipped her head up, letting the glow from a nearby street light shine on her face.

I picked at the edge of the tape with one fingernail, ran along the edge of it and then gave a sharp tug and ripped it off.

Okay, so I’d lied about the possibility of ripping scabs away.

But I knew from experience she would have wanted to peel it away slowly, and that would have been worse. My way was better.

She screamed, the sound echoing down the road. I slapped my palm over her mouth and sighed.

“Don’t do that. People will come. I’ll have to defend myself. Things will get messy, and then I’ll have to deal with your body on top of all the other shit I’ve had to put up with tonight. I don’t have time for drama.” I lifted the gun with my other hand. “I didn’t put you in here, so why don’t we try this again? I’m going to remove my hand. If you scream, I’m going to shoot you. Got it?”

Her eyes widened, and then she gave a sharp nod.

I slowly removed my hand. She screamed. My voice was irritable when I lifted the gun.

“What did I just tell you?”

“N-no, please.” Her voice was hoarse, probably from all the screaming I’m sure she’d been doing before they gagged her the first time.

“Then do as you’re told, or I’ll gag you again. Can you stand?”

She eased forward until her feet touched the floor, and then cautiously rose to her feet. She swayed but stayed upright.

“Great. Do you know who grabbed you?”

She shook her head.

“Do you know why you were grabbed?”

Another headshake.

Damn it. She was either lying or got caught in the crossfire of something she had no idea about. My gut said she was lying; I just wasn’t sure what about.

“Fine. Then you’re no use to me. I’ll call the police and have them come to collect you.” I slammed the trunk shut, narrowly missing her fingers, and strode to the front of the car.

“No! Wait!” She stumbled after me, caught my shirt sleeve and tugged at it.

And that’s when I got my first good look at her face.

“Who are you?” My demand was sharp.

She ignored my question and asked one of her own. “You’re Bishop Chambers, aren’t you?”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’ve been trying to find you.”