I blew out an irritated breath. "Go ahead. Talk. But make it quick. "
Bishop's gaze flicked briefly to Chloe. "Alone," he said.
Next to me, Chloe stiffened. "Well that's just special."
"It can't wait," Bishop said.
I studied his face. Whatever this was, it was obviously serious. No surprise there. He was, after all, dealing with two kidnappers and their getaway vehicle.
Chloe sighed. "Oh, just go," she said. "You know he won't leave until you do."
I turned to look at her. "You sure?"
From the doorway, Bishop said, "She's sure. Now, c'mon."
Chloe made a sound of annoyance. "Thanks for saving me the trouble of answering for myself."
He gave her a cold look. "Don't mention it."
What the hell was that about?
I turned and reached for Chloe's hand. I gave it a gentle squeeze. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"
Something in her eyes softened. "I won't." And from the look on her face, she meant it.
I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers. Into her ear, I whispered, "We'll talk about everything when I get back." I smiled against her. "You're not getting out of it."
When I pulled back, she was smiling, too. I adjusted the blanket around her, and said, "Five minutes, okay?"
But when five minutes came and went, I was dealing with something else entirely – a cold blade straight into my heart, courtesy of the only girl I'd ever loved.
Chapter 53
I stood, dumbstruck, in Chloe's kitchen, staring at one thing, and then another. My heart hammered, and my skin felt like ice. I wanted to hit something, but I didn't know what.
Yeah, I knew how to take a punch. I'd taken plenty, more than plenty during that beat-down with Sammy and Trick. But nothing in my entire life – not the beating, not the thing with Brandy, and not the stuff I'd seen in my old neighborhood – none of it had rocked me like this.
From the other side of the room, Bishop spoke. "You okay?"
"Just shut up, alright?"
"Hey," he said, "don't blame me."
I didn't blame him. But I was still pissed. "So, I guess you're happy, huh?"
"No." His voice was quiet. "I'm not happy."
A scoffing sound escaped my lips. I wasn't happy either. Trying to get a grip, I studied the scene, taking in every ugly detail.
Propped against the kitchen counter was a big movie poster, obviously in the mock-up stage. Thanks to all those merchandizing deals, I'd seen enough to know. This wasn't a final print, but it was close enough.
The poster featured me. With Chloe.
In it, I was shirtless, with beads of moisture glistening down my chest. Behind me, Chloe stood, peering around my shoulder and smiling in a way that I'd never seen. She looked drunk and stupid, like a groupie who'd slammed one shot too many.
One of her hands rested around my waist. The other was unbuttoning my jeans. The hands, I realized, weren't really hers. I knew, because I recognized the image this had been pulled from.
Most of the photo was a few years old, part of some campaign promoting who knows-what. I didn't recall the exact product, but in my memories, the photo-shoot was clear as day.
