by Amy Miles
“That guy at the coffee shop who couldn’t keep his eyes off you?” His brows flickered together, then his facial muscles went tight. “He’s the boyfriend you told me about before, isn’t he? The one your friend made a play for.”
“Excellent memory. And not that it’s any of your business since we’re maintaining only a professional relationship, but I already told you he’s not my boyfriend. Julie can have him. I have my sights set on someone else.” I rang the doorbell again, then pounded on the door. “Hello? What’s up with Lynn? It’s dead quiet out here. How can she not hear us ringing? I’ve hit the doorbell at least twenty times.”
Trip froze then.
“What?” I hoped he wasn’t going to go into another diatribe on why we shouldn’t be together.
But he didn’t do that. What he did was flip around, push himself in front of me and reach into his jacket toward his holster.
Too late.
A click sounded through the otherwise quiet night air as a bald-headed man came out of the shadows and stepped quietly into view on the side of the porch. He pointed a gun, then stepped closer and closer until it was an inch from Trip’s face. He smiled in an evil way that made creepy crawlers slink up my spine.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Bishop.
Chapter Twelve
“Get your hands where I can see them.” Bishop spoke in a calm voice that clearly showed he was the one in control here. Like the gun didn’t say that enough as it was. “Who are you?”
Trip paused, then held his hands palms up. “I work for Detective Williams at the police station. We can make a deal.”
Bishop chortled. “Right.”
“Seriously.” Trip’s voice was calm, cool, and he appeared in control. “Let us go, and I’ll talk to the D.A. Get him to reduce the charges against you.”
Bishop smiled smugly. “Oh yeah?”
“I can get you probation. You’ll be done with all this and won’t serve any time.” Trip stopped talking and the offer lingered in the air.
“You forget one thing. I’m not in prison. I’m a free man. Not that I can say the same for you.” With his right hand, Bishop shoved the gun into Trip’s cheek and with his left hand he reached into Trip’s holster and removed a shiny silver gun. “You won’t be needing this.”
The gun looked a lot like the one Sam had at the Sierras. If Trip had “borrowed” Sam’s gun, surely Sam would notice it missing and come looking for us. Although, I’m guessing it unlikely that Sam had a tracking device on it.
Trip kept his hands high in the air and took a step back, pushing me against the door and further away from Bishop. “You’re making a mistake.”
I clung onto Trip’s back for comfort. Why oh why didn’t I have a gun? I knew I was going to need one. Not that I’d know how to use it, but still. I could’ve slipped it to Trip or something.
“Open the door, sweetheart,” Bishop said, and I could only assume he was talking to me.
My grip on the back of Trip’s jacket tightened and I didn’t move.
“Do it. Now.” He nodded and waved his gun over Trip’s shoulder at me. “Unless you’d like to eat a bullet.”
Trip’s body tensed. “If you even think of hurting her—”
“Shut up. You’re in no position to make threats.” In one blow, Bishop slammed the butt of his gun into Trip’s temple, whipping his body away from me, his beautiful hair flopping as he smacked against the front door with a thud.
I gasped and reached for him. “Trip.”
He bent against the door, trying to stay on his feet, but I could tell he wasn’t having an easy time doing that.
“You’re a monster,” I told Bishop as I put an arm around Trip to steady him.
Bishop seemed unimpressed by my insult. Instead, he stepped forward, pushed the gun into Trip’s gut and grabbed my chin with his other hand. “You’re that kid from the station, aren’t you? What the hell are you doing at Lynn’s?”
I glared at him as unwanted tears sprang into my eyes. Why couldn’t he shut up and let us go? I had to get Trip to a doctor. His temple was swelling and I could tell it took all of his will to stay on his feet as we watched Bishop’s face go red.
“You deaf, girl?” Bishop pushed my chin away, then patted my cheek. “Your silence tells me you’re writing more than a book report. Now open the door and we’ll go see what you know. I’m betting Chuck can find out. He has a special knack for making girls talk.”
With the gun still in his gut, Trip leaned toward Bishop. “You stay the hell away from her.”
What was he doing threatening a man with a gun pointed in his gut? I shuddered.
“You so much as speak again without permission and the first bullet will be for you. Or maybe I’ll pump one into your little girlfriend here.” Bishop slapped Trip in the arm. “We clear on that?”
I slipped my hand into Trip’s and squeezed. Not to read him. Not for comfort. But because there was a good chance I wouldn’t be able to again and I wanted to somehow thank him for trying to defend me. My eyes burned, knowing Trip had been right. He hadn’t been paying attention when Bishop snuck up on us because he’d been arguing with me. This was my fault.
Finally, Bishop reached around us and threw open the door. He shoved Trip inside first, so hard that he tripped over the doorstep and fell onto the worn carpet.
I whimpered when our hands detached but then Bishop grabbed my arm—none to gently—and pulled me into what appeared to be the living room. He shut the door behind us and clicked the lock into place.
“What the hell was going on out there?” A tall, broad shouldered guy with over-bulging chest muscles stepped toward Bishop. This guy totally needed to cut down on the steroids. “Sounded like a stampede hurtled into the door.”
“Just doing a little show and tell,” Bishop said. “People learn better by demonstration. Don’t they, Lynn?”
That’s when I saw her. She was slumped over on the couch, her eyes swollen and not from crying. Her brown hair hung ragged half-covering her face and her bottom lip was cut. I could only imagine what they’d done to her.
“Kylie.” She jumped off the couch and threw her arms around me. “What are you doing here? Are you all right?”
“I’ve been better,” I said, as I felt her shove something into my pocket. Were those her keys? Did she really think I could just drive away when Bishop had a gun? “Where’s Amanda?”
Lynn pulled back, looked me over and ran a hand over my cheek. “She’s safe.”
“And Drew?” I mouthed this.
Lynn shook her head as tears formed in her swollen eyes. “We haven’t seen her since the hospital.”
“As I suspected. You two know each other.” Bishop pulled Lynn away from me and nodded to Steroid Guy. “Tie her up, Chuck.”
Apparently Bishop was running the show because Chuck proceeded to pull a roll of thick, silver tape from a bag. The tape made a screeching sound as he lengthened it before slapping it around her wrists. It looked like the same tape they’d used on Amanda’s ankles and wrists when we’d found her in the Sierras.
“You can’t do this, Aaron.” There was venom in Lynn’s voice, but she let the buffed guy bind her wrists in front of her without resistance. “You think Devin’s going to cut you in on anything? He’ll leave you high and dry as soon as he gets what he wants.”
Bishop only laughed. “All I want is my fee, sweetheart. Nothing more.” Then he took a step toward me, aimed the gun at my ear, and turned to Lynn. “Now you tell me what you know or it will go very badly for this girl. You want blood splattered all over this nice carpet? Or do you want to keep things simple?”
My eyes bulged, my heart raced, and I willed Lynn to tell him whatever he wanted to know. I clenched my fists, helpless to do anything, knowing at any second he could pull the trigger.
“Get away from her.” Trip pushed himself up on his hands and knees and lunged at Bishop’s legs, but Bishop was too quick. He swung his foot and kicked Trip i
n the face like a soccer player shooting a goal. Trip’s face torqued in the opposite direction with a loud pop, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell unconscious to the floor.
I cried out for him and pumped my fists against Bishop’s chest. In two seconds flat, Bishop yanked my full head of hair from the back, shoved the gun to my ear and grunted like a bulldog. He no longer seemed calm and smug. “Chuck, you idiot, why didn’t you tie that guy up?”
“You only told me to do her.” He gestured defensively toward Lynn and I think all of us wondered if Bishop might pop a bullet into Chuck.
Things were getting way too heated in here. Seconds passed and still all was quiet. It appeared nobody was going to get shot. Not for the moment, at least.
Chuck sighed dramatically, walked over to where Trip lay on the floor, and wound tape around his wrists. I wondered if we’d get out of this alive. Not one to dwell on the negative, but I had to admit, it didn’t seem likely.
Bishop pressed the gun into my ear—this time so hard, it pinched and burned like he’d lit it on fire. “Last chance, Lynn. Tell me where she is or this girl bites the dust.”
Lynn stepped forward shaking her head. “Don’t do it.”
“Then answer me!” He tightened his grip, pulling at my roots, pain shooting through my head as a single tear slipped down my cheek. “I’m sick of messing around with you. Where is she? Where are you hiding the mind reader?”
My body went numb. The . . . what? There was no way. I must’ve heard wrong. Had to have. I couldn’t face it otherwise. Amanda had been kidnapped, beaten. Drew was missing. Trip lay motionless on the ground. Lynn clearly had the living hell beaten out of her face and was now being held at gunpoint. All because they’d been protecting . . . me?
It wasn’t possible. Couldn’t be true. But deep down I knew it was.
I was the one these guys were after. The one Miller had been looking for that night at the hospital when Drew disappeared. The secret Lynn and maybe even my dad had been hiding. Bishop had said it himself.
The mind reader.
“Leave her alone, Aaron. She doesn’t know anything.” Lynn’s voice was desperate as she rose from the couch in a pathetic begging gesture.
“That was your last chance.” Bishop made a motion with his arm and I clenched my teeth, bracing for the shot. “She dies.”
“Wait! Please, don’t kill her. It’s . . . it’s her, Aaron. It’s her, okay?” Lynn fell to her knees and sobbed. “She’s who Devin wants. Who he’s been searching for. Kylie’s the mind reader. Don’t hurt her, please.”
The next few seconds felt like years as I waited to see if he was going to pull the trigger or not. It’s not like how they say it either. My life didn’t flash before my eyes. There wasn’t a moment of clarity. No empowering wisdom struck me. All I could think was if he was going to do it, I wanted him to hurry up and get it over with. The not knowing was killing me.
“You’re lying,” he said, but his grip on my hair loosened.
Lynn shook her head, tears sliding down both of her bruised cheeks. “I’m not. I swear.”
“No kidding?” The steroid user stepped in front me, breathed into my face, my head bent back from Bishop’s hold on my hair. “I don’t see the resemblance.”
“She takes after her mother. My side,” Lynn said, and locked eyes with me. She seemed to be telling me something with the look she gave me but my head throbbed and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what it was.
Then, I remembered Mark Hernandez. I’d shaken his hand and seen the woman crying in his office. Her face appeared in my mind and matched Lynn’s perfectly. Lynn had hired the private investigator. Presumably to find me before Bishop did. But, wait, Hernandez had asked for my mom. Did Lynn not know she was dead?
“Let’s just see if she’s the mind reader, shall we?” The guy with the muscles put an arm around me, led me away from Bishop and over to the couch.
“What the hell are you doing, Chuck?” Bishop’s voice was irritated and it was obvious he preferred being the one to call the shots.
“Don’t you know?” He shoved me onto the couch. “They all have a mark.”
Oh. No. I knew what he was going to do and squirmed as hard as I could, but those steroids made him much stronger than me. With one arm on my chest he pinned me back against the cushion. He helped himself under my shirt, tugging at my jeans as I grunted and kicked hard trying to get him off me.
“Leave me alone.” I somehow managed to say as his hand invaded my bare skin and pulled my jeans down low enough to reveal the infinity shaped birthmark.
He ignored me and gaped at Bishop. “No lie, man. She has the mark. You see?”
Bishop peered from across the room but didn’t look too interested.
“Lynn finally fessed up.” Chuck’s voice sounded proud. “About time. Let’s get her to Devin.”
Lynn’s face contorted. “You don’t have to do this. Just let her go and I’ll help Devin get whatever he needs. You owe me that, Charlie.”
“Owe you for what?” He grabbed my arm and hoisted me off the couch. “Five years of nagging?”
“We have history, Charlie. That should be worth something.” Lynn’s voice was panicked as he dragged me to the front door and I was too sickened from his pawing to resist. “Please do this as a favor. For me. For Amanda.”
He laughed. “Tell you what. As a favor to you, I’ll let the mind reader’s boyfriend live.” He nodded his head toward Trip who lay perfectly still and hadn’t moved an inch in the last ten minutes. “Now that’s a gift. You know how I hate cops.”
We reached the front door and I stared at Trip’s face numbly, hoping they hadn’t caused any permanent damage. My eyes took in his beautiful face, memorizing it, knowing it was very unlikely I’d see him again.
My eyes were still staring at his motionless face when Chuck whisked me out the front door. He pulled me toward a dark blue van with tinted windows.
Bishop shut the front door and brought up the rear.
Chapter Thirteen
“You comfy back there?” Charlie, Chuck, or whoever the steroid guy was, sat in the van’s front passenger seat and apparently thought he had a sense of humor.
“Never better,” I said. My wrists and ankles were bound together with the same silver tape they’d used on Trip, Lynn, and Amanda. We went over a bump on the highway and my butt slammed against the seat, shooting pain up my back.
The bench seat I was sitting on had zero lumbar support and if I made it out of here alive I’d definitely need physical therapy. I tried to ignore the ache and once again checked my surroundings to make sure there was no way to get out. The van didn’t have side windows and the back ones were blacked out. No chance of anyone seeing or rescuing me.
After like two hours of driving up highway 50 and I’ll admit, more than an hour of crying—understandable I figured, since I’d been taken at gunpoint and all—I’d accepted my situation.
I was screwed. Big time.
But, no way I’d let these jokers know how terrified I was. “If only you’d install a footrest and cable TV, this would feel like a vacation.”
“Kid’s got a sense of humor.” Charlie turned to Bishop and laughed. “Must run in the family.”
What did his comment mean? Family. Did he mean Lynn? Or my mom? Thinking about my mom made me wonder how much my dad knew about all of this. I thought back to how super protective and paranoid he’d been my whole life and that, despite his decent income, we’d always lived in apartments. Had that been strategic in order to stay hidden? Had this Devin guy been after me for years?
No use in focusing on maybes. I thought of Trip and tried to concentrate on the case like he would in this kind of situation. Okay, backtrack. Think.
Lynn had called Bishop by his first name. Aaron. So they must know each other. Bishop had called the body builder guy Chuck, but Lynn called him Charlie. Clearly Lynn knew them both well. Also, Charlie seemed like a way too affectionate version of C
harles for a kidnappee to be using on the kidnapper. Plus, Lynn said they had history. Did that mean they’d dated?
I stretched my neck to peek up front and study Charlie’s face—I figured using the endearing name might help to avoid thinking he might pop a bullet into me at any minute. Charlie, it turns out, was not that bad looking. For an older guy at least, if you went for the weight-lifting type.
But, runs in the family? He must’ve meant Lynn’s family. Or, I didn’t even want to think about this, was I part of his family? Too many possibilities to guess. This was ridiculous. I needed answers. And if my dad and my newly discovered aunt wouldn’t give them to me, I didn’t think it would be out of line to ask my kidnappers.
I cleared my throat which was sore from crying. “Why have you taken me totally against my will? That’s a federal offense you know.” I had no idea if that was true, but it sounded threatening so I went with it.
Bishop ignored me, kept his eyes on the road, and to be honest looked like he might sack out as he drove. Great. After nearly being strangled and shot, I was going to die from an auto collision because my kidnapper hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep.
Charlie twisted in his seat, looked back at me, and laughed. “It’s only a crime if you get caught, kid.”
I stared at him blankly. Why was another person calling me kid? I would’ve told him I was sixteen but I figured the less information I gave him the better. “Devin must be giving you a lot of money for delivering me.”
“You have no idea,” Charlie said, his smile broadening.
“Stop talking to the kid.” Bishop’s voice was stern, irritated even. Someone was cranky when they didn’t get their sleep. I couldn’t blame him. With that baldhead and scrunched up face, he needed all the beauty rest he could get.
To be completely honest, Bishop scared the bejeebers out of me. But if I was going to die, I at least had the right to know why. “Charlie, why’d you say humor must run in the family? What’d you mean by that?”
I figured using his first name might put us on friendlier terms. Make me seem more like a friend and less like target practice.
