Chapter Seven

 

Evie ran down the long corridor that Bishop had led her through not that long ago, until she reached the elevator. Just as the door dinged open, Bishop took her arm and led her inside the car. She looked up at him as he pushed the button to the ground level.

“You shouldn’t have mouthed off to him,” he muttered.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” she countered.

“I had no choice.”

“So he tells you to jump and you ask how high?” She yanked her arm away. “You’re right. You’re not John. You’re nothing like him.”

He turned toward her, moving in so she stepped back, until he had cornered her. He stood so close that the tips of her breasts brushed against his chest, causing electricity to flash between them. So sudden and potent, her response was immediate. Her entire body flushed as her breathing went shallow. Heart pumping, nipples contracting into hard nubs, desire pooled in her belly, fanning downward as an ache settled between her thighs. Her pussy grew slick. Like the last time she was this close to him, it was erotic and terrifying at the same time.

“I’ve spent my life surviving,” he said harshly. “I’ve lived on the streets, I’ve had to fight for food. For my life. Don’t think you know a single goddamn thing about me.”

“You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t know anything about you. So why do I feel like this? If we’ve never met before, why does my body crave your touch? If you’re a stranger, why do I feel like if you don’t kiss me, I’ll die?”

His gaze dropped her to her lips and he leaned in closer, until every part of his broad muscles and strong body pressed against her, including his hard cock.

“Tell me you feel this connection too,” she said. “Don’t lie.”

“Damn you,” he muttered. “I don’t need this in my life.”

Instead of answering, she slid her hand around the back of his neck, to pull his head closer.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

He used one hand to cup her face and the other he slid around her waist. With a tug that wasn’t quite gentle, but not exactly rough, he lowered his head and captured her lips with his. Her moan was swallowed as he deepened the kiss, twining his tongue with hers as she wound her arms around his neck. At first the kiss was raw, rough, but slowly he softened the assault until the kiss became souls blending together. When he pulled back, they stared at one another, breathing heavily. For a long moment, wonder transformed his face, but the elevator’s doors opened. They brought reality rushing back and Bishop looked up to where the camera rested. He frowned, grabbed her hand, and practically yanked her from the car.

He led them through the casino, winding his way past flashing slot machines and high rolling tables. She had a little trouble keeping up with his much longer stride, but she didn’t protest because even though she couldn’t see Groto, she could feel him watching her. Cameras covered the entire casino floor and all she wanted to do was run as fast and as far as possible.

Finally, they exited the building into the employee section of the parking lot. Bishop had a front-row spot and seconds later they roared out of the garage onto Las Vegas Boulevard.

“God damn it,” he muttered, finally saying something. “The last thing that should have happened was that fucking kiss.”

The stress of the afternoon finally sank its claws into her head and a headache blossomed behind her eyelids. With shaking hands, Evie rubbed her temples, trying to fight off the pain. She needed her pills and she needed to lie down.

“Take me home,” she said, leaning back on the head rest. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths in hopes of keeping the nausea at bay.

“What’s wrong?”

“Headache.”

Placing her trust in his memory of where her house was located, she concentrated on breathing and trying to avoid the bright sunlight peeking through the window tint.

“Are you gonna puke?”

“No,” she said. “It’s just a headache, not a migraine.”

“Warn me if there’s a change in status.”

Evie let her mind drift, hoping that would break the cycle of pain gathering like a gale-force storm brewing off the coast. Of course the first place her thoughts drifted toward was the kiss, and she couldn’t help but compare his with John’s. One thing Bishop had gotten correct was the fact he was fundamentally different than John. They might look alike, but that was where all similarities ended.

When the car came to a stop, Evie opened her eyes and saw her house. Without saying a word to him, she exited the car and hurried into her house, heading straight for her bedroom.

“Evie,” her brother called out from the kitchen area. “I’ve found out some info you’ve just gotta—”

She shut the door on him, cutting him off. She locked the door and headed into her bathroom, where she removed the back of the toilet and retrieved a plastic baggie containing some different sleeping pills. She didn’t want to waste time looking for the red capsules, and although these pills weren’t as potent, they’d do in a pinch. Popping two in her mouth, she ran the faucet, cupped her hands, and brought a handful of water to her mouth to wash them down.

Her brother banged on the door. “Open up, Evie!”

After putting the lid back on the tank of the toilet, she flushed it to keep Chris’s suspicion at bay. She opened the door. Right over his shoulder, Bishop watched her.

“I want to go to sleep,” she told them. Already, her headache was fading as the drug rushed through her system.

Chris frowned. “Did you throw up?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“Evie—”

“What? I have a headache!”

“Okay, okay. When you wake up, I have some interesting news.”

Ignoring Bishop altogether, she closed the door and headed for her bed, not caring in the least that she was still fully clothed. She closed her eyes and let the drug carry her into dreamland.

****

“Does she do this often?” Bishop asked.

“Since she came home from physical rehab she’s mostly slept,” Chris muttered, his hand still on her door.

“Her hands were shaking in my car and she barely waited until I stopped before she hightailed it into her bedroom. She’s addicted, isn’t she?”

Chris sighed. He turned and headed back down the hallway toward the kitchen, gesturing for Bishop to follow. “I think at this point the headaches are more a signal for the pills than actual pain. Not that her accident wasn’t serious, but I think she needs psychological help. Has she told you about her so-called other life?”

“Yeah,” Bishop replied, although he decided to keep quiet about most of what she said.

Chris opened the fridge and took out a soda. “She just told me about it last night, before the fight. I didn’t believe her but I did some research at the library.”

“What did you find out?”

“Some things she got factual, some things I couldn’t verify. Nothing that reading over the Internet couldn’t explain. Before the accident, Evie hiked every weekend with a group of friends, exploring the trails all over Nevada. I’m sure someone in that group had to do their own research, maybe even talk about the history of the places they hiked. Right?”

“Seems logical.”

Chris frowned at him. “By the way, why are you here?”

“Mr. Groto wanted to meet Evelyn.”

Chris stiffened. “Why?”

“Not sure,” Bishop replied. “I think he thinks he recognizes her, but he can’t figure out from where.”

“He had to have seen her in the casino. That’s the only social circle they both have been in together.”

Bishop frowned. “What about the fights?”

Chris shook his head. “Last night was her first time. Listen, she was in the hospital for almost a month, and then after that rehabilitation for physical therapy. Now she practically sleeps all day. I’m afraid Mr. Groto is mistaken.”

Bishop didn’t reply because he was fighting the last hope that that was why she seemed so familiar to him, that he must have bumped into her somewhere. Otherwise, how did he explain the overwhelming sense of recognition?

“I’ll let him know that,” he finally said. “I better go.”

“Please don’t come back for her,” Chris said.

Bishop was about to reply that would be easy, but somehow the words stuck in his throat.

“She’s too fragile,” her brother continued. “I’m working on getting her help and Lord knows she’ll fight me tooth and nail. The last thing she needs is to be under Mr. Groto’s influence.”

Bishop narrowed his eyes. “Usually I would take exception to something like that, but in this case … I completely agree. Don’t worry. I won’t bother Evelyn again.”

Without looking back, he left her house, and fought down the urge to turn right back around and rush to her side. Evelyn Duncan was a whole lot of complications that he didn’t need.  

He drove back to Groto’s casino as slowly as possible, going a few miles under the speed limit in an effort to postpone having to face his boss. He had no doubt in his mind that Groto had been watching them in that camera. The scorch marks were still burning his back.

When he finally made it back, he sat in his car, thinking about Evie and wondering what the hell had possessed him to kiss her. What was it about that girl that made him lose all sense of direction? His phone beeped and he glanced at the alert.

Office.

Bishop clicked the phone off and exited his car. Then he headed to the employee service elevator and hit the button for the office floor. He swiped his key card to gain access, dreading this talk with his boss, and when he finally made it to Groto’s office, he braced himself.

“Sit,” Groto said as soon as he entered.

Bishop tensed. The last time Groto had issued such an abrupt command he’d been a nineteen-year-old smart ass with a humongous chip on his shoulder. As soon as he sat, Groto pointed at the camera monitors plastered on his wall. Bishop followed his finger and saw himself paused in the kiss he had shared with Evie.

“You told me you didn’t know her.”

“I didn’t. I don’t.”

“I won’t tolerate lies, Mr. Kain.”

Annoyance flashed through Bishop. He didn’t like being called a liar, especially when he told nothing but the truth, but he held back his angry retort.

“Are you developing feelings for Miss Duncan?”

Bishop looked him in the eye. “No.”

He saw the disbelief in Groto’s face a second before the man wiped his features clear. Truthfully, even he heard the insincerity in his own voice.

“Then I trust there will be no more of these types of interactions with her.” Groto picked up the remote and shut off the monitors. “Understood?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good,” Groto said as he stood up. “I’m heading to Carson City tomorrow. Make sure my helicopter is ready at noon.”

“Yes, boss.”

When Groto turned away, Bishop knew he was dismissed. He rose and left, curling his hands into fists. He would’ve happily hit Sherman Groto in that moment, yet the retaliation the man would deliver wouldn’t be direct. He might be Groto’s right-hand man, but Bishop knew there was a plethora of security men waiting to fill his shoes. One word and he’d meet the same fate as Iron Fist.

For the first time in twelve years, he didn’t feel secure in the position he’d worked hard to achieve. The steps he’d built to lift himself out of the poverty he’d lived in during his childhood were threatening to collapse, and all because of a mere slip of a girl who disrupted his equilibrium. The only solution was to forget her, and yet something told him it wasn’t going to be that easy.