Kit swallowed hard. “Exactly.” Because masks hid victims too.
Bishop pulled the bag from the hostage’s head.
Melissa Vespers sat in pure, motionless oblivion. She was in her mid-forties, with dyed brown hair. Subtly darker brown roots were growing in. Two piercings in each earlobe. Slightly smudged makeup, likely thanks to the whole abduction thing. Fantastic eyebrows.
James stared down at her too, then took off for his place behind her.
“Thanks,” Kit said quietly.
Heart racing, Kit joined James behind the hostage. James leaned against the wall and drew Kit into a loose embrace. Like Kit was a stuffed animal he was holding for comfort.
Bishop leaned over Melissa. As he pierced her arm with the syringe, James’s grasp tightened.
Against Kit’s spine, James’s heart raced faster.
12
they usually didn’t cuddle with hostages in the room
“Flip the lights,” Bishop said, settling into his professional focus. Melissa’s eyelids twitched. Across the room, James flipped a switch. A click darkened the other half of the room, leaving James and Kit in shadows.
Part of Bishop begged to see them more clearly. He needed to make sure James wasn’t about to snap. He needed to watch Kit, so he didn’t miss a single hint of his beautiful psyche.
This was probably better. Bishop had to trust James and Kit to take care of themselves, while he concentrated on Melissa Vespers.
Bishop and the hostage remained starkly illuminated. Whatever happened here, Bishop couldn’t hide from it. He watched each twitch and gasp carefully, in case of any negative reactions. This woman’s life was in his hands.
She should be grateful it was Bishop’s hands, not James’s.
But there was no gratitude when Melissa shuddered awake. Her panicked gaze sliced across the barren basement. Stopped like a blade against Bishop’s masked face. Her eyes rounded, and her voice thinned with terror.
“Who are you? Where is this?” Melissa jerked against the binds, unable to move the chair. “What are you doing?”
Bishop leaned against the solid table, six feet away. There was a gun on the table, and a knife. More supplies in the duffel bag. He didn’t grab them, just clocked Melissa cataloguing every item.
Melissa’s head bowed. She sniffled on a sob, and when she looked up again, her eyes were red. Desperate. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to know who you are. Please, just let me go, and I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”
Bishop remained quiet. There should be something inherently uncomfortable about the situation. What did Kit think of him right now? Bishop had a woman tied to the chair, and Kit had wanted to see her face. For the same reason that Bishop noticed all these details now.
Melissa was around the same age as Bishop’s older cousin, and they wore their hair similarly. She didn’t have shoes on, and her socks were mismatched. One plain white, one pink with blue polka dots.
Archie used to do this. Holding women captive. But this was different.
“Do you need money?” Melissa tried a watery smile. “Are you in trouble? I can help you.”
“Are you done?” Bishop asked calmly. He knew in his bones, this was different.
And he didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.
“I promise not to tell anyone. Just let me go,” Melissa begged.
Bishop tapped the smooth, matte plastic over his cheek. “Do you know what this mask means?”
Melissa fell still, her eyes still round and red.
She was good at this.
“You haven’t seen me. If you cut the bullshit, you might survive,” Bishop said. Still calm, still clear. “If you waste my time, you won’t.”
