Bishop turned to give me a serious look. "Now stay calm, alright?"
When someone tells you to stay calm, you know it's bad. And he'd mentioned Chloe. My blood turned to ice. "Tell me."
Two minutes later, I was at the back fence – on Chloe's side, not mine. Keeping low, I'd crept through the narrow back gate, forcing myself to breathe slowly.
Don't run. Don't panic. Don't make a sound.
Don't mess this up.
Still, my heart was pounding, and I was having a hard time holding it together. Hidden in the shadows, I scanned her property. Her yard was dark, too dark. No patio light. No floodlights. Probably, no porch light either.
Through the trees and shadows, it would be hard to see anything, unless you knew where to look. It couldn't be a coincidence. Whatever was going on, it had obviously been planned.
Crouching low, I moved toward the back of her house, keeping to the trees whenever I could. Once there, I skirted the back patio and circled to the side, hugging the brick as I edged my way forward.
At the front corner of her house, I stopped and peered through the shrubbery.
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. Through the trees and shadows, I spotted her, just where Bishop had said. She was lying on the sidewalk, with that son-of-a-bitch, dressed in all black, including a ski mask, holding her down. She looked terrified, but unharmed. So far.
Based on what Bishop had learned earlier, I knew why. The plan wasn't to do anything here, but to take her someplace else. And do what then? I could only guess.
Whoever, he was, I wanted to kill him. Iwouldkill him – right after I got Chloe away safely. I wanted to do it now. But I couldn’t, not if I wanted Chloe to walk away unscathed.
Anger flooded my senses – at the stranger, at myself, and yeah, even at Bishop, who should've shot the guy when he had the chance. Now, my girl was lying there, helpless, afraid, and probably expecting the worst. I heard her whimper, and it tore out my heart.
It took everything I had to not say, "The hell with it," and run forward anyway, to grab that guy by the throat and rip him off her before pounding him to dust.
There was only one thing that made me stop. It was the thing Bishop had warned me about. The guy had a knife, and it was pressed to her throat. One mistake on my part, and she'd be the one paying.
Desperately, I scanned the street. Where the hell was Bishop?
I held myself steady, waiting on the edge. I'd been waiting probably less than a minute, but it felt like years. Was he trying to give me time to get in place? He didn't need to. I was already here.
Just hurry up, already.
A minute later – thank God – the sedan pulled slowly into the driveway and cut the lights. I recalled the plan and tried not to lose it.
My gaze slid to Chloe, and I wanted to explode. Her body trembled, and her eyes grew wide. Aside from the obvious reasons, I knew exactly why. She thought they were going to take her, to force her into that car, and do who-knows-what.
They weren't.
It hurt to look, but I did anyway, taking in every single detail. One gloved hand was pressed to her mouth, while the other held that damn knife against her throat. Her chest rose and fell, too fast and too frantic. If she kept this up, he wouldn’thaveto cut her. She'd be doing it herself.
In the driveway, the car door opened, and the driver got out. It was Bishop, dressed in the other guy's clothes, including the black ski mask that obscured his face.
The guy holding Chloe called out in a quiet, but urgent, voice, "C'mon, move it, will ya?"
Bishop lifted the same tire iron that he'd found in the trunk. He held up a hand, as if signaling for a delay. He crouched beside the sedan and made a show of inspecting the driver's side front tire.
The guy holding Chloe still hadn't moved.
Shit. He was supposed be distracted. He was supposed to sit up. He was supposed to lift the knife away from her throat.
Damn it.
Bishop was still going through the motions. I was still waiting. And Chloe was still trembling.
Just hang on, baby. I'll be there in a second.
