“I am. Which means you are on your own.”
“That’s fine. It’s done.”
Yang frowned. “But Eliza Meadows?—”
“Doesn’t know anything,” Bishop interrupted. “I was able to get my hands on her full statement. John McClean didn’t share with her his suspicions about me. So my identity is still safe. Which means she’ll live. For now.”
Yang lifted an intrigued eyebrow. “And are you happy with this outcome?”
The sound of Bishop’s snort echoed over the connection. “You know as well as I do there’s no such thing as happiness when it comes to this business. There are only net-positive or net-negative outcomes. In this case, we have a net-positive. Have a safe trip home.”
And then, as was his way, Bishop disconnected the call without saying farewell.
Yang pocketed the cell and his gaze alighted on the bag of White Rabbit candy stuffed into the seatback in front of him. He felt his lips quirk.
After twenty years, my handlers know me well.
Reaching for the treats, he was gratified to see his fingers steady.
It had been a while since he had faced an opponent that rattled his nerves. And he felt no shame in admitting he would be happy to finish his career without ever running into another Black Knight.
26
Black Knights Inc.
Eliza’s heart felt like it would explode from anticipation as she watched the TV screen mounted beside the front door. The real-time footage showed the outer gate sliding open and a familiar black SUV prowling onto the grounds.
“They’re here!” she called over her shoulder and heard various acknowledgements from the Black Knights.
None of the original crew had made it into work. Not after Eliza had called Becky to tell her what was going down at BKI. For one, the OGs might be full-on civilians now, but they still avoided the authorities any chance they got. For another, it wasn’t like any bikes could have been built in all the confusion. But mostly, the original crew often brought in their wives and children, and thanks to the threat to Eliza, Black Knights Inc. was no longer safe.
Thatwas something she would struggle with for a long time to come. Thatshewas the reason the people she’d grown to know and love were in danger if they stepped foot on BKI’s grounds.
“We’ll be right down!”
It was Sam who called from the second floor. He and the rest of the onsite crew had been going over BKI’s security footage to see if any of the cameras had gotten a good picture of the shooter. She heard their heavy footsteps as they traipsed down the stairs to join her.
From the moment she’d emerged from the pantry to find Fisher had gone after the gunman on Mardi Gras, she’d been nothing but a bundle of nerves. Of course, it hadn’t helped that soon after his departure, pandemonium had ensued.
The FBI had blazed onto the scene with tires screeching and sirens wailing, having responded to Agent O’Toole’s call for backup. The paramedics hadn’t been far behind, arriving in a flurry of flapping stethoscopes and a rattling gurney. They’d quickly carted away Agent Douglas, who’d been barely conscious at that point. And not two minutes after the ambulance disappeared past the gates to take the tall, handsome agent to the hospital, the press had appeared on the scene.
Like the reporters in most big cities, Chicago’s newshounds kept their ears tuned to the police channels so they could be the first on site when it came to local stories. And if it hadn’t been for Manus Connelly keeping the gate closed, the swarm of journalists would’ve busted down the front door.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, O’Toole had gotten a call from her superior informing her that Fisher had been arrested at O’Hare International Airport for trespassing, for destruction of property, and for discharging his firearm at a private jet as it had taxied down the runway. He was insisting to the local boys he was acting on FBI orders.
Which, according to O’Toole, wasn’t entirely true. Apparently he’d taken it upon himself to give chase before the lady agent could green-light or red-light his plan.
“You have to tell them to let him out,”Eliza had demanded of the little blond agent.“You have to say he was working with you.”
“I’ll take care of it,”O’Toole had promised, although she’d appeared annoyed by the task.“As soon as I talk to my director, make a statement to the press, check on my partner, and decide what the hell I’m supposed to do with you now.”
Eliza had wanted to argue. Heck, she’d wanted to demand the fed drop everything and go get Fisherimmediately. But she’d known better.
For one thing, she wanted to stay in O’Toole’s good graces. So far, the lady agent had been terribly accommodating, and she hoped to keep it that way until this thing was over. For another, if Fisher was in police custody, he was safe from doing something foolish like…oh…say…renting his own private jet and flying off to intercept the bagel shop shooter.
Honestly, what was he thinking taking off after the gunman on his own?
By the time O’Toole had dispatched the reporters and been informed her partner was in serious but not critical condition, hours had passed. Hours during which Eliza had been made to stay inside the windowless pantry with nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs and worry herself into a tizzy. Hours during which the Knights had worked to cover all the windows with tarps, aluminum foil and, in some cases, printer paper because Agent O’Toole had insisted it was the only way she would allow Eliza to stay at BKI—which Eliza was demanding because the one and only time she’d ever felt in danger since the night at Senator McClean’s house was when she’d tried toleave.
