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Eden

The interior of the apartment didn’t match what I’d imagined. I’d expected something like the things you saw on television when people went into the homes of long-term hoarders, with a man dressed in scruffy old clothes.

The reality was very different.

The man himself was dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a plain white t-shirt. Tattoos covered both arms. His dark hair was longer than Bishop’s, falling down into his eyes and looked like he’d run his fingers through it more than once. But his eyes were the same as his brother’s—dark, knowing, and sharp.

The apartment was large, with clean white walls, a dark wood floor and minimal furniture. Two doors led off from one end of the main room, and a third door was on the opposite wall. A television took up almost the entire third wall, while the fourth was glass and I could see out onto a secluded balcony, with walls high enough to give anyone sitting out there privacy from the street below.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Knight’s voice pulled my attention away from the room and back to the two men.

“No, thank you.”

He nodded. “Okay, well I need to talk to Bishop, so …” He waved a hand toward the couch on the opposite side of the room. “The remote control is on the table. Help yourself to drinks from the refrigerator or there’s a coffee machine on the side.” He jerked his chin to the kitchen area which swept around to the right of the door we’d come through.

“Knight.” Bishop sighed.

His brother shrugged. “You know the rules, Bish. I don’t know her. She’s not coming in.”

“It’s fine.” I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but I didn’t want to cause any arguments.

“See, it’s fine,” Knight said and walked over to the single door on the far side of the room.

Bishop shook his head and looked at me. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” While there was nothing in his tone or face to suggest it, I was sure Knight’s behavior was irritating him.

“Bishop.” Knight called his brother’s name from beside the door, and Bishop’s gaze shifted to him.

“Make yourself at home. Just don’t open any doors. They’ll be alarmed.”

“I won’t.” I crossed to the couch and sat down, reaching forward for the television remote.

I’m not sure how long I spent flicking through the channels. Longer than thirty minutes, less than an hour. I watched the last ten minutes of a well-known sitcom, caught the tail end of another show I’d watched before, and then jumped through the channels again.

Something familiar caught my eye as I channel-hopped, and I frowned.

That couldn’t be right.

I flicked back, and my entire body locked up.

No way .

I grabbed the remote control and stabbed at the volume, turning it higher.

“—missing girlfriend of Detective Chester Dulvaney continues. The last confirmed sighting of Eden Marshall was a week ago in Dallas. The security camera footage from a nearby late-night store shows Ms. Marshall getting into a car with an unknown person. If you have any information on her whereabouts or the identity of the man with her, please call …” The presenter gave the number for a dedicated missing person’s hotline.

I stared at the grainy photograph of myself on the screen. It showed a side profile view of Bishop as he marched me to his car. Thankfully, it hadn’t caught the gun he was pointing at me or gave a clear image of his face.

Thankfully?

Laughter, shrill and slightly hysterical, bubbled up and I pressed my lips together firmly to stop it escaping.

Chester had reported me missing.

He’d organized a manhunt to track me down.

There was no longer anywhere to hide.

Chester was going to find me, no matter what I did.

And now I’d dragged Bishop into it with me.

Oh god. Bishop!

What would he say when he discovered we were both splashed across the news? He was going to kill me.

My eyes darted around the room, and for half a second I thought about leaving while he was occupied with his brother. I even stood and hurried to the door, but then I stopped.

What are you doing?

I sucked in a breath, trying to calm my racing heart, and let my hand drop from the door handle.

What had Bishop said to me? I thought back to the conversation we’d had in the diner.

… Since you’re my wife, it’s my duty to fucking kill anyone who has hurt you …

… I won’t go looking for him, but if he turns up, I’ll deal with him however I see fit …

My gaze returned to the tv screen.

Chester was going to turn up. Someone was going to recognize me and call in a sighting.

Bishop was right.

I was never going to be able to rest until he was removed for good.