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

by Veronica Eden

  He could be Henry. Imagining it sends my stomach into an uncomfortable flip.

  I shake my head, sucking in air.

  This is ridiculous. I’m hiding behind a large quilt in the middle of the holiday market, stalking my teacher.

  I ball my fists, but I don’t walk away, tethered to my hiding spot. Because what if it’s not as harmless as it appears? Henry is in my past, but if he’s not? Then the danger is even more real.

  Mr. Coleman gives the bag to the girl. She’s delighted as she pulls out the necklace he bought. She tries to give it back, but he must insist because he curls his fingers over hers, closing the jewelry in her hand.

  Without hearing their conversation, I’m jumping to conclusions about what’s happening. Is it the first time he’s given her a gift? Is he grooming her?

  I’m lost in my head, but when I zone back in, the quilt hiding me is pulled aside as another shopper debates between two choices. His attention is on me. He caught me. Crap.

  Mr. Coleman nods to the sophomore girl and walks over to the quilt vendor before I can brush off following him or give him the slip into another stall.

  “Hello again.”

  “My mom loves these quilts.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to dive under the blankets hanging around the hut. Curse my nervous babbling.

  Mr. Coleman’s brows lift. “Is that so?” He pinches one of the smaller throw sized blankets hanging behind me, reaching over my shoulder to do it. My spine goes rigid. “Ah, yes. It’s made nicely.”

  He doesn’t leave, so I’m forced to make small talk as he fondles the blanket over my shoulder. “Are you enjoying the market?”

  Mr. Coleman hums. His gaze slides back to me. “You could’ve asked to walk with me if that’s what you wanted instead of following me. There’s no harm in it outside of class, right?”

  What? No, that’s not what I wanted. It’s a really odd response. Back at the pool house I wasn’t thinking straight, but face-to-face with Mr. Coleman, I’m on high alert.

  The way he’s honed in on me that makes my heartbeat spike in a horrible way. I want to walk away.

  “I was kinda wandering aimlessly. My friend is in the bathroom line, but we’re meeting up. I was just killing time.”

  He watches me for a long beat. It’s not a fixation, I tell myself, clinging to desperation. He doesn’t have to be Henry. That monster can stay in the past where he can’t hurt me anymore.

  “Well, enjoy yourself.” Mr. Coleman steps back, dropping his arm from feeling up the blanket. “If I don’t see you again, have a wonderful holiday.”

  “Bye.” Not waiting, I hurry away, hoping Maisy is already waiting at the tree display when I get there.

  I came out today to get my mind off all of this, but it followed me here anyway. Maybe I should tell her we can come back again another day.

  When I make it to the tree display, I circle it twice. She isn’t there yet. I check my phone and curse under my breath. The battery is on 1%.

  “Seriously? Unbelievable.”

  Pawing through my bag, I don’t find the charger, remembering I left it in the car. I chew my lip. If I hurry, I can grab it and make it back here. The coffee shop has outlets I can use. I shoot Maisy a text before my phone dies to let her know to meet me at the coffee shop instead, then leave the cheery holiday festival behind to return to the parking area.

  The late afternoon sun cuts across the street as it falls closer to the ridge line in the distance. I have to charge my phone before it gets dark, or Maisy and I might miss each other.

  My plan goes up in smoke when I reach my car. Mr. Coleman is parked a few spots away, and the sophomore girl from before is with him. They climb into his car.

  “Oh no.”

  If Mr. Coleman is Henry, I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.

  I squeeze my bag against my side, feeling the heavy file stuffed in it. Making a decision, I unlock my car and slide in. Something in me can’t leave the girl alone. I’d never forgive myself for abandoning someone potentially in danger if I could do something to help.

  As Mr. Coleman pulls out, I follow in my car, hoping he doesn’t spot me tailing him in the rearview. The whole way, my fingers tap on the wheel and I scrape my teeth over my lip until it’s tender and raw.

  “It’ll be fine,” I repeat over and over.

  Thirty-Five

  Thea

  The drive isn’t long. Mr. Coleman pulls off onto a residential road not far from downtown. There are a handful of houses on the short dead end street, a patch of woods beyond that. Most are decorated for the holidays with lights and lawn ornaments, but Mr. Coleman’s car pulls into the driveway of the one house on the block without festive trimmings.

  Feeling too conspicuous, I park my car a few houses away, scooting low in my seat so I go unnoticed. I hold my breath as they get out of the car, prepared to dart across the street to save my lookalike. Mr. Coleman gestures with one hand as he talks, the other tucked in his coat pocket. My heart shoots into my throat as the girl beams and follows him inside.

  “No! Don’t go inside! Shit.” My knee bounces as my worry rises.

  I can’t just walk up to his door. He already caught me following him once today. What can I do?

  Rubbing my forehead, I finally reach for the folder in my bag. My hands shake as I open it, fully ready to believe Connor.

  The name on the records has me releasing a choked sound—Harold Knight Coleman. Henry’s email was henry.k.c. The initials are the same. I frantically flip through the photos and copies of reports in the file as my breathing turns shallow. With shaking hands I lift a photo of myself, one I remember emailing to Henry when I was fifteen.

  “Oh my god. No.”

  I didn’t want it to be true, because thinking about it already hurts. The overwhelm crashes back into me and I squeeze the edges of the folder until the pages crinkle. God, I sat in his classroom when he had my photos, knew who I was.

  A strangled sob escapes me.

  The next photo in the file is a row of gold heart-shaped necklaces against dark velvet, each with a name card. One of them has my name on it, just like Connor said. Shit.

  I can’t run from the agonizing truth any longer.

  Mr. Coleman was the monster all along. The one who kept me from growing out of my insecurities, making them fester with his manipulation and abuse. He is Henry, my abuser.

  And now he has another young teenage girl in his house.

  My chest feels tight.

  Connor was right. I wish I hadn’t hidden behind denial and listened to him.

  I want to tell him, but when I grab my phone, it’s dead. I never plugged it into the car charger on the drive over, too worried I’d lose track of Mr. Coleman’s car. Now I’m kicking myself. When I try the power button, the battery icon blinks on the screen, mocking me in its uselessness. I can’t even call Maisy’s dad about Mr. Coleman to make a report about what happened to me.

  Glancing from my phone to his porch, I blow out a breath. I can’t wait for the phone to charge. The sophomore girl is still inside. He could be trapping her right now. If I leave to get help, will it be too late for her? Maybe I can knock on the doors of other people on the block. But how long will it take?

  There’s one thing I know for certain: I won’t stand by and let Mr. Coleman harm any other girls like he hurt me. I’ve seen the folder. Hell, I lived the folder.

  I have to do something.

  Stuffing the file back in my purse, I take the bag and grab the all-in-one tool from the glove box Maisy insisted I have. It’s for car accidents, but it could do damage as a weapon in an emergency. Climbing out of the car, I shove it in my coat pocket as I hurry to the closest house across from Mr. Coleman’s. I knock on the door, but there’s no answer. I knock again, shifting restlessly on my feet.

  “Come on. Damn it. Why doesn’t anyone answer their doors anymore?”

  I run to the next house over, trying there. No one answers. This is wasting
time.

  Shaking out my hands, I head for Mr. Coleman’s house. I keep low as I sneak around, peeking in windows carefully. Inside, it’s rundown with cracks in the plastered walls. My breath catches at the sight of the dual monitor computer surrounded by an array of old takeout containers. I still don’t see anyone, so I continue around the side of the house. Voices from inside drift out through the old, grimy windows.

  “…sure you have to go right away? I insist, stay for a quick cup of cocoa,” Mr. Coleman says. “It’ll warm you up from the chill.”

  Only part of their conversation is audible as I strain my ears, crouched beneath a window.

  “…supposed to get back, but…”

  “Don’t be silly,” he says, closer to the window. I hold my breath. “There’s no rush, right?” There’s a slight pause, then, “That’s the holiday spirit. Never too much cocoa. I’ll put on some music, too.”

  She must have agreed. I shift around, but in the fading light I misjudge the distance between my hip and the recycling cans near the window, accidentally knocking into one.

  “Crap, crap, crap,” I hiss, steadying them before they make too much noise. Hopefully Mr. Coleman didn’t hear that. Or if he did, writes it off as a wild animal.

  Holiday music starts playing. I try to peek in another window to see if I can gesture to the girl to warn her off, but it’s too dark inside to see anything. Why aren’t any of the lights on?

  I skirt around to the back door to see if I can hear better. Before I reach the handle, a hand covers my mouth as I’m grabbed.

  “Mmph!”

  Lips press against my ear, making my skin crawl when I hear Mr. Coleman’s husky voice. “You came, princess. I thought that was your little blue car in my mirror. Following me, sneaking around out here playing naughty games? Well, if you insist. I’ll have to punish you later.”

  White-hot panic rushes up my spine. I kick and thrash, but he’s strong. I try to scream, but his hand muffles it.

  When did he come outside? Oh god, this can’t be happening!

  “Ah, ah. You came to me. I’m your knight, princess. Stop fighting it.” His demeanor has changed from earlier, bordering on manic. “I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long—every day in class. Having you chase me at the market was so thrilling. I knew you must have realized it and couldn’t stay away any longer.” He presses his nose into my hair as I struggle. “But you’re making this hard for me by misbehaving.”

  I’m your knight, princess.

  No.

  No fucking way.

  He’s spouting words he’s typed to me a hundred times over. A sickening sensation travels through my body.

  This is worse than every nightmare I’ve ever had come to life.

  Mr. Coleman keeps my arms pinned tight. I’m too short to crack my skull back into his. I try to bite him, to yell, but he squeezes my face hard enough to hurt.

  Everything in my body screams in protest at his harsh grip. I feel violated all over again, worse this time with his hands all over me. His breath is hot on the back of my neck as he grunts against my frantic flailing.

  No!

  Escaping his hold is impossible, but I manage to worm my fingers into my coat pocket. They slip on the smooth handle of the all-in-one tool. My chest caves with a desperate, smothered cry.

  Please, please.

  When I have it, I release a wild sound, swinging as hard as I can with limited motion. Mr. Coleman grunts as I catch him in the leg with the hard tip meant for breaking glass. But it doesn’t work for him to release me like I wanted. I didn’t strike hard enough.

  He wrenches the tool from my grasp and throws it aside in the dead grass. That was my only weapon against him!

  “Mmph! Mmmph!” My protests come out as muffled grunts.

  His voice is a low growl in my ear as he lifts me from the ground. “You’ll behave, pet. I don’t want to punish you too harshly, but I will.”

  Terror spears through my body as he crushes me against the back door, covering my back to pin me there. My nostrils flare with each panicked, labored breath.

  He has me inside before I can fight him off. I try to scream again, to warn the sophomore girl, but with his hand over my mouth and holiday music playing, I go unheard.

  My pulse races as he shoves me through another door, then down a short flight of steps into a basement off the kitchen. I squirm to reach for something I can use against him. Anything to stun him long enough to escape.

  My feet jar as he drops me back to the ground, sending me stumbling from the jolt. A second later, he shoves me against a workbench with shelves of cubby holes. My bag drops to the ground as I try to break his hold. In the struggle, my head knocks into a shelf, spreading a jarring pain in my skull and making my vision swim. Everything goes black around the edges, a strange pulse in my head leaving me woozy.

  He watches me with calculating, narrowed eyes, then steps back. Without his disgusting hands holding me up, the dizziness gets worse and I slump against the table, then collapse to the floor. I try to form words with my heavy tongue, but everything goes black.

  Open your eyes! Get up!

  Cracking my eyes open takes effort. I think I try it multiple times as I sit on the dusty floor because distorted flashes of Mr. Coleman slip through the throbbing in my head. Watching me. Getting a tool and extension cords. His back to me as he climbs the stairs.

  Now! Escape now!

  When I come to, I’m alone. I don’t know how much time it’s been. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? I scrub a hand over my face and climb to my feet. My head still hurts, but the dizziness that made me black out has passed.

  It can’t be long if my head is still tender. I wince, carefully prodding at my skull.

  The room grows dimmer as the last of the daylight outside fades into dusk. No lights are on, swallowing me in shadows and darkness.

  My chest heaves as my breathing speeds back up. I race up the steps, but the door is locked. The music is turned down lower. I smack my palm against the door.

  “Help! Hey! Help me! Let me out!” As I scream, I jiggle the doorknob. No matter how hard I yank on the handle, it doesn’t budge. My palm stings from banging so hard.

  Mr. Coleman’s muted voice travels through the door, sounding far away. I pause to press my ear to the door. “…no problem. Tell your parents they can borrow from me anytime. Goodnight.”

  The extension cords. That was why she came in? I thought—

  Shit! I wanted to help the other girl, but now Mr. Coleman has me. How the hell am I getting out of this?!

  My nerve endings feel flayed from the dread choking me.

  Was it a mistake to want to help? I didn’t have any other choice. A swollen lump lodges in my throat as I press my forehead to the door, breathing through the rush of emotions.

  Princess.

  Repulsion rushes over my body. How could I have thought that pet name made me feel special at fifteen? Now it only sends wave after wave of nausea through me. I’m trapped by my abuser. What will he do to me?

  At least the other girl got away. That’s the only silver lining I can cling to right now. Mr. Coleman took me instead.

  I’m sorry, Connor. I’m sorry I messed up so badly.

  If I hadn’t shut down in denial, I wouldn’t be here right now.

  I wish Connor were here. He has stepped in so many times, not trusting Mr. Coleman around me. But wishing for him won’t save me.

  I have to save myself.

  I’ll get out of this. I have to.

  Be brave.

  Thirty-Six

  Connor

  After cooling off by beating shit up with my bat at the abandoned quarry for a couple hours to give Thea space and get my thoughts off my major failure, I’m worn out but feeling less like I’m about to split apart.

  The late afternoon sun dips low, creeping behind the ridgeline as dusk falls, casting long shadows across the weed-choked gravel lot. Thea asked me not to do anything stupid
, so I came out here to work out my frustration rather than put more holes in the pool house wall.

  With my head refocused, I’m ready to try talking to her again. I told her I’d let her come to me, but we don’t have the time. Two hours to calm down is long enough.

  It was a mistake to ambush her with all the information at once, especially after she told me what Mom did to her. I should’ve come at it from a different angle, starting with Coleman. Keeping everything from her was killing me, so it poured out all at once.

  Worse, I hated the panicked look on her face and the tears in her eyes as she left. I hate making her cry.

  I sit in my Lexus GX with the door open and call her to find out what part of the holiday market she’s at. It goes to voicemail.

  “Hi! You’ve reached Thea. I’m unavailable at the moment, probably because I’m up to my elbows in cake batter. Leave a message and I’ll call you back soon!”

  I lift the phone away from my ear, scowling at it. I almost never get her voicemail when I call.

  A bad feeling slices through me.

  When my phone pings with a message, I relax. She’s fine, it must be loud at the market. Missed the call. That’s all.

  But it’s not Thea when I open it. The text is from a contact in my phone I don’t remember putting in—the name blank except for a skull and crown emoji.

  “Those crow bastards,” I grumble, opening the video clip.

  As the CCTV footage plays, my heart stutters to a stop. Fuck.

  It shows Thea following Coleman at the holiday market, then talking to him. He’s standing way too close to her for comfort. The last angle isn’t clear, but there’s a girl getting in Coleman’s car with him, driving off. She’s wearing the same wool jacket as Thea’s. My mind jumps to the worst.

  Nothing else matters but getting her back.

  “Goddamn it!” I pound my fist against the wheel, flying into motion. “This can not be happening right now.”