Ruthless Bishop: Dark New Adult High School Bully Romance (Sinners and Saints Book 3)

by Veronica Eden

  This is how I know she’s hiding the same tendencies as her mom. I open my mouth to bite back at my little mouse for intervening where she doesn’t belong.

  “It’s not right.” Thea beats me by doubling down before I can snipe at her. She licks her lips, darting her gaze to me. I’m reminded of the encounter in front of our houses, when she told me off. It was cute then, but it’s not now, here at school where she can publicly defy us. Her focus shifts back to Devlin and the rest of our crew hovering behind us. “So please stop.”

  Releasing a ruthless laugh, I lean close to her, clamping a hand over her wrist so she can’t escape. Her sugary scent is intoxicating and I shift closer, whispering in her ear. “What’s wrong, neighbor? Were you jealous we weren’t paying you any attention? Your secret is how badly you want someone to pay attention to you, isn’t it?”

  She sucks in a breath, pinning me with her big doe eyes, stretched wide with embarrassed horror.

  That’s right, sweetness. I know everything. I’ve got your fucking number.

  Literally. I smother a snort.

  “You want attention?” I mutter. “I’ll give you what you want.”

  Thea drags the cuffs of her blazer over her hands. Her face is flaming red. I lean back in my chair, smirking. Pulling out my phone, I kick my feet up on the bar on the back of her seat.

  Our teacher bustles in, always with that grating go-getter vibe.

  Coleman is in his late twenties, with clean-cut thick brown hair, a strong chin, and matching dimples when he turns a proud smile on the girls he calls on the most in class. He’s playing at perfect all-American dreamboat, but I’m not buying his act. He’s a try-hard phony if I’ve ever seen one. He turned up out of nowhere in the middle of the year in tenth grade and had the girls panting after him right away. It’s always irritated me that Coleman doesn’t take my rep seriously, but I haven’t found anything on the guy to show him what I’m capable of, like the man is a ghost.

  Or he’s great at covering his tracks. Whatever the case is, I’ll uncover it.

  There has to be something serious for all the falsehoods he protects himself with.

  “Let’s get started,” Coleman says.

  Instead of paying attention to him, I pull up my messages.

  Thea acts all perfect and innocent, when really she’s as much of a corrupt deviant as any of us, and I’ve got the proof right on my phone from this morning when I got her worked up before school, and again before first period because I wanted to know how far I could push her.

  If Wyatt can text Thea before first period and she sneaks off to a secluded spot to respond, what will she do if her secret sext buddy messages her in the middle of class? Time to find out. I click into our message thread, the corner of my mouth hitching up at the last message from her saying she was late for class and had to go.

  Connor: Can’t stop thinking about the sounds you made this morning. Your sweet little moans get me so hard, baby. I need to hear you all breathy and on the edge of falling apart again. Want to play a game?

  A squeak sounds from Thea. She hunches her shoulders to hide her phone from the teacher as he explains the reading assignment. My cell vibrates.

  Thea: Omg I’m in class right now!! [flustered emoji]

  Connor: Be bad with me. I promise it’ll be fun. Just lean back in your desk, spread those pretty legs and show me what color panties you’re wearing.

  Connor: Unless you’re not wearing any, you naughty girl.

  I shift in my seat, getting myself going from toying with her. My dick is half hard at the thought of her doing it. I flick my gaze between the text conversation and her back, inhaling when she sinks into her chair a few inches and slides both her hands beneath the desk.

  Shit. I didn’t think she’d actually do it. We’re in the middle of class and I’ve got Thea Kennedy taking an upskirt photo. The sense of illicit mischief courses through me and I bite my lip to hide my pleased expression.

  My pulse thumps in my ears as I watch every tiny shift of her body, until her legs widen slightly. Then my phone vibrates. Rolling my lips between my teeth, I check it discreetly. It’s grainy and dimly lit, but I can make out dainty scalloped yellow lace.

  She did that. She fucking did that. For me, during class, with Coleman strolling around the classroom.

  A burst of lust mixed with pride rushes through me.

  Connor: Good girl. Or should I say, bad girl? [smirk emoji]

  Connor: Mm, baby girl, I want to come find you during the day at your school, pull your panties aside, fuck you good and hard until I cream in you, then smack that thick ass and leave you knowing I’ll be in you all day.

  Thea muffles another strangled yelp, crossing her legs tightly. It’s too fun to mess around with her like this, to get her hot right under everyone’s noses.

  Our game is interrupted when Coleman pauses by Thea’s desk as he strolls around the class and directs his question at her. “Can anyone give me their thoughts on the use of literary devices in the text?”

  “I—uh, yes, I…” Thea trails off, flipping through her notebook, voice trembling. In her fumbling, she knocks the book we’re reading off the desk.

  Titters echo around the room. I cover the smug slant of my lips with my hand, propping my elbow on the desk.

  “I have some thoughts,” I offer. “You know, since she seems unprepared for class. The book uses irony and alludes to things going on in the world to drive the point that the political party twists the truth to exercise control, but I don’t think the theme of propaganda is as universally applicable today. With social media always advancing and evolving, more voices are constantly in the mix from all over the world. People aren’t complacent to mindlessly listen to manipulative party lines, or believe whatever the headlines read.”

  Coleman frowns at me, silent for a long beat. He sighs. “Yes. Good.”

  Thea drops her forehead to her desk and stays like that for a long stretch as the class goes on.

  Before I make any moves, I need more information. I want to know my grip on Thea is ironclad. There’s no way I’ll let the little mouse escape the trap I’m setting for her.

  I dump my athletic duffel in the corner of the bedroom and boot up my computer. As it purrs to life, I drop into the chair and scroll through notes I’ve compiled on my phone.

  She’s on my radar, no longer invisible. I’m paying attention to every move she makes, getting a lowdown on her from the classes we don’t share, utilizing every access point I have to pick apart her life. From her friendship circle to her daily schedule, she won’t make a move without me knowing about it. Holden Landry proved useful once more, giving me a play-by-play of Thea through the lens of her longtime friendship with his younger sister when I used the video of him at the boat party I’ve been keeping in my back pocket. Until he described a recent sleepover and how she filled out her skimpy sleep set nicely and I decked him.

  I’m building a picture of how she presents herself—the studious, quiet good girl.

  And I’m betting it’s a lie. No one is that pure and innocent. As humans, we’re all depraved beasts.

  It’s instinct. Our base nature. It lives in our bones.

  Once my computer is ready, I waste no time getting to work. Hacking her network remotely is child’s play. Their WiFi has basic, default firewalls that I break through with ease, allowing me access to connect my computer to any device in their house logged in on the network, dropping malware I’ve written to give me a backdoor in anytime I want.

  There’s no challenge, not like the things I faced when I was first developing these skills on my hunt to uncover the depth of Mom’s misdeeds to cover up the assault incident. In the short time since that discovery, I’ve honed my talents in digging through people’s lives.

  “Gotcha,” I mutter as I locate Thea’s laptop, currently connected.

  Her screen loads on my second monitor, a baking blog and Instagram open in two tabs on her browser. The calendar application is al
so open, and I grind my teeth when I see Mr. Coleman’s birthday, bake cookies set as a reminder for tomorrow.

  I never really noticed Thea before, but now that I have, it doesn’t escape me that she’s as infatuated with Mr. Coleman as every other girl in our class. Hell, the whole school. It still rankles when I think of today’s English period. Watching her shoot her hand in the air, leaning forward to answer questions once she recovered from her mortification. Like she was eager to prove herself to our teacher. She might have hidden under her baggy uniform, but because I know what her perfect tits look like beneath the deceptive layers, it pissed me off to see her eagerness for any of Coleman’s attention.

  With a few swift keystrokes, I access the webcam, activating it. Her room appears on my screen.

  Clicking my tongue and shaking my head, I lean back in my chair. “Don’t you know any better? Come on, everyone knows to put tape or something over their camera these days. It’s 101.”

  Her room is empty, the door ajar. A stuffed sea lion sits in the center of her ruffly purple pillows. It’s every inch as feminine as I expected, splashes of color enveloping the whole thing.

  The family’s rottweiler sleeps on the floor next to her bed. He seems like a chill dog. I once fed him half of my burger when I was hiding out by our pool house, avoiding my parents when he wandered over. Thea shouted for him around the front of her house. He must have gotten out. She wasn’t pleased to find her dog cuddled up to me—really, he was trying to push me out of the lounger, total chair hog—while I listened to her search for her dog for close to twenty minutes before she ventured into our backyard.

  For the life of me, I can’t remember the dog’s name. Only her pet names for him. Wookiee boy. It made sense when he jumped down from the lounger, stretched his front half low to the ground, and released the weirdest warbling sound before trotting to her side.

  I’m in the middle of scanning the colorful posters on the wall, reading their baking puns when Thea strolls in.

  The corner of my mouth twitches up.

  Flour is smeared across her cheek and dotting her apron. The sleeves of her sweater are rolled up and her hair is tied on top of her head by a big yellow scrunchie with a bow on it. The sun doesn’t shine as bright as the excitement in her blue eyes as she leans over the desk to grab a notebook with pastel tabs sticking out to mark the pages. I drink her in, studying what she looks like when she doesn’t know someone’s watching. She pauses to pet the dog, giving him a belly scratch that has him stretching languidly before disappearing from the room.

  Part of me hopes she’ll come back. I have half a mind to start up a sexting session with her while I’m accessing her webcam for a double feature, picturing her wearing only the apron and nothing underneath.

  But it’s better for me if she isn’t in the room. Even if she doesn’t know how to prevent hackers like me from doing exactly what I’m doing, there’s a chance she’d notice activity on her computer while I’m remotely accessing the files. I have to be quick, then I can play with her posing as Wyatt later.

  Starting with the browser history, I download it to my files to comb through later. The page with Instagram open is her account—@theactualsunbeam. I scroll through the images, clicking at random. The whole thing is a mix of baking and floral aesthetic, mixed with an underlying obsession with positive optimism and self-love quotes. Thick thighs save lives. Be kind always. Spread love (and cookies) around the world. Local goddess gang.

  She seems like a fucking woodland creature, too wholesome and good for this world.

  Except I know the truth.

  I unlock my phone, where the real Thea is. Picking a photo from this morning, I stare at what she shows me—the most stripped down, raw version of herself.

  “Who are you?”

  Shaking my head, I exit back to her Instagram profile and open Facebook. It loads to her account, login credentials saved.

  A soft laugh puffs out of me. “It’s like you want me to have easy access.”

  The Facebook feed isn’t as personalized as her Instagram, mostly full of video shares of Tasty videos—damn, girl has a real sweet tooth—and tagged photos with Maisy Landry at a wellness retreat resort, some fancy cabin campground that screams glamping instead of real camping.

  Skimming through her files, my annoyance rises. There’s no protection against what I’m doing. Her security is so lax. This isn’t even hard, any creep can learn to do it with shitty spyware.

  “Fucking pain in the ass,” I grumble, opening a new window to code in.

  A short while later, Thea’s computer has security protocols in place that rival the ones I installed for my own computer system. The only outside threat able to get into her stuff is me. No other little shit will spy on her with her webcam.

  Only me.

  Nine

  Connor

  At the end of the week, my good day goes to hell fast. I’m walking down the north building’s hallway on my way to class when I stop in my tracks.

  Thea stands with Mr. Coleman, chatting animatedly, her eyes all lit up as her hands move. Today’s thick sweater is a peach color with bobbles. She almost drops the stack of books in her arms and laughs as Coleman steps closer to help her catch them. Too close. He leans into her space, his attention rapt as she continues talking.

  The rush of annoyance rises so fast I almost go lightheaded.

  Hell fucking nah, man.

  My feet move before I’ve even formed a plan.

  “Hey, baby, I was hoping I’d see you before lunch,” I say, interrupting whatever Coleman was about to tell her. My arm slides around her waist and tugs her to my side, away from our English teacher. I nuzzle into her hair, shooting a flat look at Coleman. “Mm, you smell nice today.”

  “I, uh,” Thea chokes out. I back off a little, but keep my arm around her. Her mouth keeps moving, but no words come out. She looks from me to Coleman, confusion etched into her features. “Connor?”

  Pinching my collar and flicking, I say, “One and only.”

  “We can continue this discussion another time, perhaps. I’ll leave you with your…boyfriend, Miss Kennedy,” Coleman says, disappointment in her threading his voice. “Mr. Bishop, tighten your tie.”

  Fucking prick. I resist flipping off his back as he walks down the hallway. The milling students give us curious glances as they pass.

  “You’re still, uh. Holding me?” It comes out as a question. She licks her lips, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the attention we’re drawing with this public display of possession.

  “Good eye.”

  A beat passes, then she drags out her question. “Why?”

  Yeah, might as well do this now. I’ve got enough info in place to make my move.

  “Plenty of reasons. Your cute expression right now, for one. Felt like it when I saw you. And…” I fish out my phone and show it to her. On the screen is the last message she sent me from an hour ago—her school blouse unbuttoned in a bathroom stall to show me her mouth-watering rack in a lavender bra with ribbon bows. “I like the little game we’ve been playing, but we could be doing so much more.”

  Air hisses out of Thea and she sags. I shift my grip to hold her up so she doesn’t collapse in the middle of the hall.

  “What is that?” Horror fills her tone and the color drains from her face. “How do you have that?”

  Releasing a dark chuckle, I put my phone away and cage her against the row of lockers. “What’s wrong? You liked it so much before now.”

  She shakes her head in disbelief. “N-no.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Thea sucks on her bottom lip. “I’ve heard rumors.”

  I lift a brow.

  She huffs. “You copied my phone somehow. Read through my private conversations.”

  “What makes you think you’re interesting enough to be a target for something so elaborate? You’re a nobody. Invisible. We don’t notice you.” I grasp her jaw, narrowing my eyes. “You’re
the one that started it when you sent me that pic of you in your nightie with your boobs almost spilling out. You wanted someone to pay attention and I did.”

  “I don’t believe you. I think you’re just making fun of me again.”

  A wild grin crosses my face. With a deft move, I pop a button on my shirt, then another. “Want me to strip to prove it? How much do you need to see? Abs?” I lick my lips slowly, making sure she’s watching before I drop my hands to my belt. “More?”

  In a flustered frenzy, she clamps her hands over mine, squeezing with more strength than I would’ve guessed. In my periphery, I feel the eyes of people openly staring at the scene we’re making.

  I laugh. “Feisty, huh? Can’t keep your hands off me.”

  Thea lets go as if I’ve burned her. I prop my hands on either side of her head and crowd her against the lockers again.

  “I’m not bluffing,” I say. “I’ve seen more of you than I bet you’ve shown to anyone, sunshine.”

  “This can’t be happening,” Thea utters, more to herself than me.

  “Damn, how horny are you, Bishop?” Sean taunts as he passes us in the hall. “You’re hitting up the uptight nerds now?”

  Keeping my eyes on Thea, I snort and play with one of the bobbles on her sweater. “I needed a snack and she was the closest chick around.”

  His sharp cackle makes Thea flinch, the sound grating as he swaggers down the hall. I grit my teeth and grab her, looking for somewhere private to talk. I can’t hash this out with her and field interruptions demanding a different kind of show. She follows obediently.

  “In here.” I herd her into an empty classroom by my grip on her upper arm to get the prying, gossiping eyes off us.

  It’s one of the science labs, dimly lit by the half-drawn shades on the windows, the main lights off.

  I never meant to do this in front of an audience. Humiliating her wasn’t part of the plan, I only intended to make sure I had her in checkmate when I revealed myself. But when I saw her smile for Coleman, I just acted. Left my strategy in the dust.