Bishop's Endgame (Endgame Trilogy Book 3) Page 2

  But that wasn’t the right kind of thinking so she shelved that thought. “I’m glad for you,” she said, leaning in for a hug. “Let me know if you change your mind about Christmas, okay?” She’d been invited to a friend’s place for Christmas and had been told to bring friends if she wanted. One of the teachers where she taught had decided to skip traveling for the holidays and was having a big blowout at her house for all those without immediate family in the area. Luckily not everyone she worked with drank, so she’d be able to blend in and relax.

  “I will.”

  “Good luck tonight.”

  “Thanks.” Sheila smiled, her expression one of nerves intermingled with excitement.

  Arianna was glad for her friend. Unlike Sheila, she hadn’t hurt any family members with her drinking. No, she’d just hurt herself. A lot. Drinking had been her way of coping with…everything. Fat lot of good it had done her. She was just lucky she’d gotten her shit together before she’d totally destroyed her life—and she reminded herself of that every day.

  She didn’t want to travel back down that dark path ever again. The escape drinking had provided had been temporary and simply an illusion. Because once the numbness had worn off, the pain had still been there. Alcohol didn’t make it go away—it only helped her to make even worse decisions.

  As Arianna headed for her car, she realized she’d left the little gift Sheila had given her inside their meeting room. Inwardly cursing her own forgetfulness, she headed back into the church, her shoes squeaking softly against the linoleum. She’d been in Alcoholics Anonymous for the last three years, and while she didn’t buy into most of the religious aspect of all of it, she’d formed close bonds with a small group of people here. And those relationships, the support, that was what had saved her life.

  She hurried past the half-open door of a grief group that met here at the same time AA did and tugged the door shut on her way. It looked as if they were all still meeting and she didn’t want them to be disturbed. There was also a Narcotics Anonymous meeting down the hall but they met on Mondays and Wednesdays.

  She ducked into the room, intending to grab the little bag then get out, but stopped when she saw one of the old-timers folding up chairs by himself.

  “Hey, Aaron.” She tucked the gift bag into her purse and set it on the floor before picking up one of the metal chairs that was probably from the seventies. “You’re not supposed to be doing this tonight.” The regulars alternated and it wasn’t his turn.

  He laughed as he bent over, his patch-covered leather vest riding up. “Don’t I know it. But someone’s got to put these up or we’ll hear about it later.”

  “I’ll help and we’ll knock this out faster.”

  He simply nodded and grabbed another chair.

  In his sixties, Aaron was one of the first people who’d approached her at her first meeting. He’d been a friendly face in a sea of strangers. While they weren’t exactly friends, more acquaintances than anything else, she knew his “story,” just as he knew most of hers. They were all fairly open in these groups, though she’d never given all of the details of what had driven her to drink. There were some things she kept close to her heart, because they were etched into her soul. The knowledge hers, and hers alone.

  But she’d been honest about the death of her mother and then her younger brother, practically back to back. The only person she’d ever told about the other reason that had sent her into a dark spiral of out-of-control drinking was Sheila. Because Arianna trusted and loved her. And it had taken her a year before she’d told her sponsor everything.

  She shook that thought off, however. Right now she didn’t want to get caught up in the past, in things she couldn’t change. She’d found that if she didn’t focus on the present and moving forward, she would start to spiral.

  School had just let out for the next two and a half weeks, and as a teacher she was excited about the Christmas break. It was a time to spend with friends, relax and enjoy her hobbies. Christmas was a hard time for her now that her mom and brother were gone so she stayed busy and surrounded herself with people who were positive. “Any big plans for Christmas?” she asked Aaron as she grabbed two more chairs and folded them up.

  Unlike many of the members in this group, Aaron hadn’t lost his family to drinking. His wife had taken him back once he finally got sober. Then he’d eventually patched up his relationship with his kids. Now he was a doting grandfather whose grandkids adored and called him Poppy, but he still went to meetings twice a week. He was an inspiration to so many of them.

  His presence was also a reminder that these meetings were always going to be part of her life, part of who she was. She never wanted to get to the point where she thought she didn’t need them. Because she knew what happened when she slacked off and gave in to the temptation to try “just one drink.” She kept going until she blacked out her memories and woke up in a bed not her own. Or not in a bed at all, but in the driver’s seat of her car, parked at a local shopping center with no memory of how she’d gotten there. She shuddered, tucking away that awful memory, thankful she hadn’t harmed anyone with her reckless behavior. It was one of her recurring nightmares—that she’d actually hurt someone else while trying to chase away her own demons.

  “Yes indeed, my wife surprised me with a cruise this year. I’m not too keen on the idea, but I figure if she took my sorry ass back, I can smile and go on the cruise. Though I figure it’ll be a good time because she’s usually right about everything…”

  She was silent as he talked about his plans, happy to listen as they cleaned up the room. Aaron was definitely a talker, and while sometimes it could be a bit much, he had a big heart and was one of the most non-judgmental people she’d ever met. He owned all of his mistakes with no excuses thrown in for good measure. It was incredibly rare to meet someone like that and she appreciated his bluntness.

  As they finished up, a skinny man with jeans hanging off his hips who couldn’t be more than twenty years old stepped into the room, his hands shoved into the raggedy pockets. He looked around, his expression tense. “Is this the NA meeting?”

  Aaron stepped forward without missing a beat. “Sorry, son, this is AA. NA is on Mondays and Wednesdays…”

  She grabbed her purse as Aaron took over, ready to get out of there. Aaron had that whole grandfatherly thing going on and she knew he would very likely drive the guy to an NA meeting across town that met tonight.

  She stepped out into the cool night air, glancing over at the lights from the nearby nativity scene. The whole church was lit up outside but the parking lot itself was dimly lit, and she realized the light from the pole above her car had burned out sometime during the meeting.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” she muttered to herself. She was tempted to go back inside and ask Aaron to walk her to her car but she pulled out her pepper spray and steeled herself for the walk across the nearly empty parking lot. She couldn’t live in fear, couldn’t spiral back down that dark hole again. She couldn’t be afraid to walk to her car or go get groceries by herself because she was afraid of being jumped in the parking lot. She’d lived with that fear and it had nearly eaten her up from the inside. Made her afraid of her own shadow until she’d been a barely functioning shell. She was still cautious—she was a single woman in a huge city so she wasn’t stupid. But she refused to let that fear take over her life.

  Her heart rate increased, her breathing shallow as she quickly hurried across the pavement. Key fob in hand, she shoved out a breath of relief as she slid into the driver’s seat, locking the doors immediately behind her. That was what one of her self-defense instructors had taught her, to immediately lock her doors once she got inside her car. Always and without exception. She’d taken the lesson to heart and did it on instinct now.

  “Start the car and drive west out of the parking lot.”

  The deep male voice from behind her made her scream but it was quickly cut off as he pressed a gun to her bare neck.

&nbsp
; “No screaming. Start the car.”

  Her fingers turned to ice as she sat there in the cool interior, looking in the rearview mirror to see a man wearing a mask. In the darkness she could barely make out anything, not even his eyes. Just that his mask was black and that he had a gun to her neck.

  Instead of starting her car, she dropped her keys to the floorboard. “No.” He could just kill her here. She’d been raped before. She wasn’t going to drive herself to a fate like that.

  He paused and shoved the gun against her head. “I don’t think you understand me.”

  “I understand you. Shoot me now.” She wasn’t getting dragged somewhere else where he could do God only knew what to her. That was another lesson she’d learned in self-defense. If someone tried to take you, better to let them injure you instead of taking you somewhere. They were more likely to just flee than try to deal with a fighter. She’d learned a lot of things about herself in the last few years and she wasn’t driving herself to her own rape and murder.

  “Pick up those keys.”

  “No!” She started screaming as she reached for the door handle, well aware of the gun pressing into her. She couldn’t take on a man with a gun but she could scream for attention. She yanked on the locked door as she continued screaming, even as she mentally prepared for him to shoot her.

  If it was in the head, she wouldn’t feel it and should be dead within a minute. She bit back a sob at the thought, because she didn’t want to die. She’d overcome so much. There was so much she still wanted to do and see.

  He cursed under his breath as she tugged the door open, clapping a hand over her mouth. She struggled against the sweet smell even as blackness engulfed her.

  Chapter 2

  Arianna opened her eyes slowly, blinking into… The dimly lit bedroom.

  My bedroom.

  Her heart kicked wildly against her chest as she stared in horror at a strange man sitting with his back to her. At her small, neat desk, her laptop was open in front of him, the bright light from the screen illuminating his masked face. She tried to shift but her wrists and ankles were tied to her chair.

  “Good, you’re awake,” he growled at her without turning around.

  Throat tight, she couldn’t respond even if she’d been able to around the gag. What were they doing at her house? She swallowed back bile as she thought of the many reasons he could have brought her here. All of them horrific. How had he known where she lived? Questions punched through her mind even as she yanked on the flex ties. They dug into her wrists and ankles as she tried to thrash around.

  He pushed back from her chair and it made a dangerous creaking sound under his weight. The guy was huge, sending even more spirals of fear winding through her as he turned toward her. She swallowed hard and looked away, desperate to give in to her flight response. But she couldn’t move, and the fear of death—or worse—threatened to choke her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his hand coming toward her face and flinched instinctively.

  His hand froze in midair.

  “I’m taking your gag out. If you scream, it goes right back on. Understand?” His voice was deep.

  She nodded. Even if she did scream, the neighbors to her left were out of town for the next week and a half on a Caribbean cruise, and the neighbor to the right was likely already in bed and wore hearing aids. No one would hear her unless some random passerby was out walking their dog. Considering how cold it was and that it was well after dark, she doubted it.

  As he pulled the gag out, she tensed, waiting for…anything.

  “What’s your password?” He’d already turned away from her, dismissing her as if she was a non-threat.

  Considering that her arms and legs were tied to a chair and he likely weighed double what she did and was armed, he wasn’t wrong. But if she could get away, she could run. She might not be a physical match for this guy but she was pretty sure she could outrun him. Or maybe bash him in the head with something if she could just get her hands free.

  “Password,” he growled out again.

  “What?” she asked dumbly, jumping at the sound of his voice.

  He turned, her chair creaking again. “What is the password to your computer?” This time he spoke slowly, as if she was stupid.

  She gritted her teeth. What did he want on her computer? She didn’t have anything sensitive on her laptop and couldn’t imagine what he wanted on it. But she wasn’t going to die over a password so she gave it to him. As soon as she did, he turned away from her once again.

  She wiggled her wrists, trying to get some space so she could slide them out, but the bindings dug into her wrists with no give. Tears pricked her eyes as she struggled, but she fought back a sob building in her throat.

  “I wouldn’t bother if I were you. You’re just going to bruise up your wrists.” He didn’t even look her way, could likely hear her. “And my partner is waiting outside. There’s nowhere to run.”

  He had a partner? That sinking feeling in her gut tightened even more. What did he want? Or what did they want? And who were “they”? Bile rose up again in a swift rush but she pushed it back down because she wasn’t throwing up on herself right now. Maybe later, but she needed to keep her shit together as long as she could, figure out what to do.

  He was quiet as he clicked away on her laptop. Then he plugged a small USB into the side of it and some weird-looking program popped up.

  She frowned at the screen, and even though she didn’t want to draw attention to herself she said, “I’m just a teacher. I don’t make much money.”

  He simply snorted, then turned and looked at her. “A third-grade teacher is quite the cover.”

  “What cover?” she asked, not sure what he meant.

  His blue eyes were visible even with the mask as he watched her intently, as if trying to figure her out. “How do you like the Cayman Islands?”

  She blinked at the random question. “I’ve never been. Why have you kidnapped me? Why are we at my house? And what are you looking for on my computer? If you tell me, I can give it to you.” The fact that he was still wearing a mask was the only thing that gave her a teeny tiny sliver of hope in her heart right now. Because if he had on a mask, it meant he didn’t want her to see his face. Which might mean that he planned to let her go. At least that was what she’d learned from all the crime shows and detective books she read. But maybe… God, who knew anything right now?

  He simply sat there watching her, barely blinking. “You were just there a month ago.”

  She snorted. “The hell I was.” She took little weekend trips, usually diving or boating somewhere off the Florida coast, but she scheduled her vacations during summers and other school breaks. She hadn’t taken any vacation a month ago. Not to mention, she’d freaking remember if she’d been to the Caymans! What was wrong with this guy?

  He sat there watching her for a long moment, then turned at the sound of a soft pinging coming from her computer. When he faced the screen again, she shoved out a breath. It wasn’t like she should be relieved or anything because she was still a captive, but when he’d been watching her with that intense gaze, she felt as if she’d been under a microscope.

  She shifted in her seat slightly as her bladder protested. Oh God, not now. No, no, no. She squeezed her thighs together, willing herself to take in slow, steady breaths. She’d had too much coffee at the AA meeting and now she was paying for it. Maybe if she peed herself he wouldn’t rape her? Not if she was covered in urine. Or maybe that would just enrage him. Or turn him on. Ugh, what should she do?

  He pulled out the USB and turned to look at her. Even with the mask, she could see his dawning expression. “You have to pee?” he asked, all businesslike.

  Fighting the terror working its way through her, she simply nodded.

  “I’m going to cut your wrists and ankles free. If you try to fight me I will hogtie you and let you wet yourself. Understand?”

  She simply nodded and fought the tears wellin
g up. So maybe he didn’t care if she peed on herself. Tears flooded her eyes anyway and he frowned when he saw them. As if her tears offended him. Well excuse me, Mr. Kidnapper. He was lucky she wasn’t a sobbing mess right now.

  “Save your bullshit tears,” he growled as more of them spilled over.

  They weren’t bullshit, but screw him. She sniffed once and clamped down hard as he cut the ties. She flinched as he cut them free, afraid he’d accidentally cut her.

  She had a fantasy of kicking him in the balls and then knocking him unconscious but she knew that wasn’t happening. She would maybe get two feet before he jumped on her and pinned her to the ground. Then she would pee all over herself and him. Ugh. And right now she was concentrating on not making him angry. If she could figure out what he wanted—if it was anything other than rape and murder—maybe she could give it to him.

  “Come on,” he said, grabbing her upper arm surprisingly gently. He stayed glued to her as they walked to her bathroom. “Door stays open,” he said as she stepped inside.

  She hesitated, not wanting to take off any article of clothing with him standing there. Not that it mattered. If he wanted to… Nope. She was not letting her mind go there or she would completely freeze up and then have a breakdown. If that happened, she’d be having a full-blown panic attack.

  He turned to the side, looking away though she knew he had a visual of her in his peripheral.

  She hated this, but it would have to do. Feeling beyond awkward, the sensation mixing in with her terror, she tugged her pants down. She closed her eyes, fighting back more tears as she quickly took care of business.

  She was surprised that he stood there as she washed her hands and dried them, not saying a word. Letting her hands fall to her side, she stood there staring at him, unsure what else to do. “What do you want from me?”