“Is he here—in Chicago?”
I only nod, swiping at a fake tear. “It’s a funny story, actually… I-I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Tell me everything,” Bishop demands.
I don’t, letting his last words linger.
“Tell me, beautiful. Don’t make me spank it out of you—oh Jesus, the spankings. Did I hurt you? I wish I would have known.”
“No! No, I loved it. It surprised me at first, but I liked everything about last night. It’s just…just now, when you told me to gain some weight and pinched my side, it reminded me of something he would have said.”
“Oh. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” Bishop gathers me in his arms, breathing into my neck as he holds me. “Thank you for telling me.”
I only nod, thankful to have someone on my team for once.
Part one of my plan for revenge is in place, and Bishop does not know it yet, but he’s just become my accomplice.
“The worst part is that he emptied our shared accounts when he left and moved in with his new girlfriend. He’s such a piece of shit. I can handle what he did to me, but I’m so worried about the new woman, and worse…she has a young kid. I’m so afraid he might fly into a rage and hurt them both. An innocent little kid never deserves to have the shit beat out of them.”
“Dammit.” Bishop pushes a hand over his short-cropped dark hair. “Some people are just better off dead.”
“Tell me about it,” I huff, thinking Bishop is a better guy than I first pegged him for—willing to avenge my honor and rescue some imaginary kid from harm.
“I haven’t been able to sleep since he left. I lie awake at night and either live in fear of him coming back to finish me off, or me finding him first and taking care of him before he can really kill me.” I pause, then add for dramatic effect, “My therapist says fantasizing about revenge is my brain’s way of controlling the horrible things he did to me.”
Bishop only nods. I can see I’ve left an impression on him. Some switch inside him seems to have been flipped. He looks angry, strong and powerful, and like he’s out for blood.
“I have even dreamed about how I would do it. Maybe slip something into his morning coffee or hire a hit man—I’ve imagined every crazy thing you can think of!” An embarrassed laugh bubbles past my lips. “I shouldn't be telling you this. I’m sorry. You probably want to run far away from me now.”
Bishop shakes his head, eyes swinging around the messy penthouse that still smells like sex before they land on me again. “He should suffer for what he did to you.”
I shake my head, blowing him off. “I tried calling the police before, but they never showed up. I don’t know if he paid them off or if they’re just overworked and never came… It doesn’t matter anyway. His brother is a lawyer and would get him off quicker than I could yell domestic abuse.” I press my lips together, as if losing myself in thought. “I just wish I were smart enough to plan and execute some justice myself.”
Bishop nods, his grin widening. “Vigilante justice, huh?” He holds my hands in both of his and places a kiss on my knuckles. “I volunteer to be the valiant knight at your service, if you’ll have me.” I giggle, allowing him to kiss his way up my arm before he sucks at my earlobe and nips softly. “I mean it, beautiful. I’d kill the motherfucker if I ever saw him.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ihuff, tapping my pen against the edge of my laptop. I’ve just finished my third latte at the Roastery and still no sign of Jesika. I’ve been camping out here every morning for three hours in the hope of seeing my new friend. Well, in truth, I’m also trying to escape Bishop. He hasn’t left my hotel room since I brought him home for what I thought was destined to be my first and last one-night stand.Surprise!The bastard stayed. I’ve been bouncing back and forth between being annoyed that he just won’t leave and feeling blessed that he fell into my life and will hopefully help me get revenge on Dean.
Maybe my little one-night-stand cockroach will make himself useful after all.
As it is, he only leaves the hotel room for a few hours every evening todo business.
He won’t tell me what kind of business, and I figure that means I shouldn’t ask questions I really don’t want to know the answers to. The Bishop situation, coupled with the ever-accruing charges on the hotel bill, has me feeling rattled. Bishop orders room service twice a day, and every time I come back to the room to find more dirty plates, I have to bite mytongue to stop myself from lashing out. After all, if Bishop makes good on his plan to avenge my honor, the pricey hotel bill will be well worth it. I just have to find the right moment to make the next move.
The reason I haven’t been able to get a handle on the right moment is because Jesika has suddenly gone MIA on me. Well, not totally. She claims she’s been sick—but it’s been over a week, and I’ve offered to bring her chicken noodle soup from a local deli, but she hasn’t even answered me.
I never intended to stay in the city this long, and then Bishop happened. And then Jesika stopped seeing me as quickly as she’d started. At this point, I’m convinced she’s lying to me, and so I’ve spent every morning at the Roastery, waiting for the day she comes in.
The place is always busy; hipster Chicagoans have a thing for caffeinating all day long, apparently.
I close my email client, preparing to put away my laptop and take myself for a quick walk across the street to the park when a familiar broad stretch of shoulders walks in. A breath catches in my throat, and I’m left frozen.
It’s him.
I know it is.
I nearly stand to greet him on instinct, and then I remember myself and instead turn to hide in the corner. My heart thunders as I think of the familiar planes of my husband’s face. His hair is longer now, soft salt-and-pepper waves fanning out around his earlobes. He’s growing it out. I wonder if that’s because Jesika requested it. Or maybe he just hasn’t found a barber to his liking here in the city.
