Chapter 2
Sophia
I stare into the gray eyes of the man I’ve been hunting for months. It’s good to finally put a face to my nemesis. He’s a lot better looking than I was expecting, but the rich and powerful usually are.
“What are we going to do with her?” the man standing next to my target asks. It’s obvious he’s one of Bishop’s henchmen.
“I’m not sure.” Bishop glances at the man and then back at me. “Who are you?”
I stand from the bed, still a little groggy. I’m sure this motherfucker drugged me to steal me from Mia’s bed. It was a plan I never thought I’d be able to get away with, but Mia was more than happy to help me hide in her spot. She wanted to run away from all of this, not wanting to deal with Bishop’s wrath.
I knew Bishop wanted to kidnap her.
And I want to kill Bishop.
We concocted a plan, and it worked perfectly.
“I asked you a question,” Bishop says, signaling his minion to leave us alone. “Who are you and where’s Mia?”
As soon as the other man is out of the room, I leap forward, wrapping my legs around Bishop’s torso and bringing my arms around his neck to hold on to. I bite his ear before he lurches forward to land us both on the bed. He tries to get me off him, but I squeeze my legs tighter around him.
“I’m going to kill you, Bishop,” I shout after I’ve bitten him hard enough to taste blood. “I want you dead.”
I scratch at his face, considering a different approach. This man is twice my size, but I’m so angry I can’t think straight.
“Bishop? I’m not Bishop.”
Lies. “Yeah, right.” I claw at one eye, raking my nails against his skin.
“Fuck,” he groans out. “Easy there, wildcat.”
“Fuck you,” I shout out again.
The door to the room opens and two men enter. If I have any chance of killing Bishop, it’s now or never. I grab the knife from the holster high on my thigh and hold it to his throat. “Stop right there,” I tell his men.
“Dean, what’s going on?” one henchman asks.
“Who’s Dean?” I reposition myself so I’m sitting on the bed with Bishop bending to my every command. The knife digs into his skin and he laughs.
“You gonna kill me?” Bishop asks, his voice throaty from having a knife stuck to it. “I’d like to see you try it.”
My eyes widen, and he notices my hesitation. I try to gain my power back, but he grabs me, bringing the knife deeper into his throat. I stare at where the pointed edge digs just at the stubble along his neck.
“It’s ok,” I think he’s says more to his men than me. “It’s all under control.”
“Everything is under control,” I say. “I kill you and disappear into the streets of New York.”
The other henchman laughs. “Um, we’re in the Azores.”
I stop cold. “The where?”
“And that’s not Bishop.” The man at the door with salt and pepper hair and his belly flowing over black pants laughs harder now. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”
What?
“Who are you?” the man who’s apparently not Bishop asks.
Or so he claims he’s not Bishop. It could still be a trap. A man with a knife to his throat will lie about anything.
It’d be better if I actually knew what Bishop Blackstone looked like, but the man is a ghost, wiping every shred of evidence of his existence from the internet.
“My name’s Sophia Rossi.”
“Where’s Mia? I need to make sure she’s ok. We planned to take her to keep her safe from Bishop.”
I loosen my grip. “Mia? She left. She didn’t want to stick around for Bishop to finish her off.”
“Fuck, I need you to remove the knife. I’m not Bishop. I want Bishop dead just as much as you do.”
“Listen to him, he’s telling you the truth,” the man by the door says.
“Who are you?”
“Dean Maddox, and I run security for DeWinter’s family.” The honesty behind his gray eyes hits me deep to the core. I want to believe him, but I’m still so unsure of what’s happening here.
All I know is I won’t be able to kill this man right now and slip into the darkness. I release my hold on him, backing into the bed’s corner, holding the knife out in case these jackoffs get any ideas.
I listen as the man with haunting eyes and hair the color of a sandy beach tells me of his plan to kidnap Mia and bring her to an island in the middle of nowhere. To protect her.
“How can I believe you?”
He smiles, and it nearly knocks the wind out of me. “I’d show you my ID, but I’m guessing a girl like you wouldn’t buy that.”
I shake my head.
“Listen, we need to find Mia. She’s in danger and we have to get to her before Bishop does.” I don’t know if he’s talking more to me or to the guards with him.
“She could be anywhere. Should you call her father?” a guard asks.
The man I can’t keep my eyes off of runs a hand down his stubbled jaw. He’s really quite something to behold in this room cast in dawn’s pink light. He stands with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Muscles upon muscles stacked all over him. But it’s his eyes I can’t turn away from. There’s a kindness hidden there. Like he has a heart packed away behind those muscles. Guarded safely behind the walls he’s constructed.
But it could all be lies.
I don’t let my guard down as they discuss finding Mia and how they should call her father. The fact he’s on talking terms with Mia’s father makes me take pause.
“I want to hear the phone call.”
The man they call Dean—who I believe is Bishop—smiles again, stealing my breath away for a moment. “Sure.” He pulls a phone out of his back pocket, swipes it on, and then holds it above his head. “Do we have a landline? I’ve got no service.”
The other man furrows his brow. “Um, you should.” He pulls out his own phone, holding it high above his head, most likely searching for a signal as well. “Let me get you the landline.”
Dean steps forward. “Watch her, I’ll be back.” He leaves the room, taking one of the guards with him.
As soon as he’s gone, I stare at the man left behind. It’s the same man who laughed at me earlier and I glare at him, holding my knife higher.
He laughs. “You’re crazy, and you got the wrong guy. Just like he grabbed the wrong girl.”
Most people would think I’m crazy for trying to kill a man I’ve never seen. But they don’t know me. Bishop’s good at hiding in the shadows while others carry out his dirty plans.
A fucking coward.
I don’t relax until Bishop is back in the room. He’s holding a cordless phone and punches numbers on it. He steps closer as the line rings on the other end.
“Georgio, it’s Dean. There’s been a problem. Mia wasn’t at home. Someone else was in her place.” He continues to relay the events that unfolded to the man on the other end of the phone.
I listen to the voice coming through the receiver, and it sounds an awful lot like Georgio DeWinter. But I can’t be too sure.
“Can I talk to him?”
Dean, or Bishop, I don’t know what to believe anymore, hands me the phone. “Here.”
“Mr. DeWinter,” I say into the phone.
“Sophia? Is that you?”
“Yes, sir. It’s me.”
“What are you doing there? Where’s Mia?” There’s genuine fear in his voice and I worry I may have ruined the entire plan.
Did I just cost Mia her life?
“I caught wind that Bishop planned to kidnap Mia, so I posed as her and waited for him.”
He sighs. “Oh, Sophia, you shouldn’t have done that. Where’s Mia?”
“I’m not sure. She said she was going to hide with friends.”
“Who?” Mr. DeWinter’s voice is commanding and I picture his bushy brows furrowing in anger.
“I… uh… don’t know.” I never wanted to know just in case things went bad with Bishop. In case he tortured me to find Mia. It was easier this way.
Mr. DeWinter says a few curse words on the other end, and I hand the phone back to Dean.
“I’m so sorry.”
Dean says nothing, just puts the phone back to his ear and speaks again to Mr. DeWinter. He leaves the room and I drop the knife onto the nightstand beside the bed. My body realizes just how exhausted it is now. I slump on the bed, still keeping my senses on high alert just in case these men decide to dispose of me.
Sure, they want to keep Mia safe, but who knows what they’ll do to a stranger who spoiled their plan?
The man at the door crosses his arms over his puffed out chest. It’s most likely puffed from fat and not muscles, but he still has the height and weight to make me terrified of him.
I take in my surroundings. A private room with a king-sized bed blanketed by a thick comforter that puts the shabby covers in my studio apartment to shame. As if the man at the door can read my mind, he flicks on the light and I squint at the brightness.
Marble pillars section the room. It makes me wonder if it’s for stability of the house or just for show. There’s a canopy over the bed with gold ropes complimenting the gold and garnet bedspread. Paintings in ornate gold frames decorate the walls. It’s almost gaudy, but in this room it works. The art looks like famous paintings, but I wouldn’t know the names or painters. Maybe DaVinci? Maybe Rembrandt? I didn’t pay attention in class much growing up.
Beneath my feet, there’s a matching rug that takes up half the room and hides a marble floor. You’d think this decor would be too loud or busy, but somehow the whole casino theme works well together.
Dean steps back into the room. “Now what to do with you.” His gray eyes meet mine and I suck in a deep breath.
“Let me go?” I hope these men are reasonable and will release me. I can figure out my own way back home.
“You’re on an island in the middle of the Atlantic. We can’t just let you walk out the door.”
“I’ll be fine.” I’ve been taking care of myself on the streets since I was fifteen years old. Since the moment Bishop Blackstone ruined my life.
“You won’t be fine.”
Before I can complain any further, we’re interrupted by a woman who walks by the open door and pokes her head in. “Sir,” she says, looking right at Dean, “we can’t leave the island at the moment.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because there’s a hurricane coming.”
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
Dean gives her his full attention and everyone hustles from the room. I grab the knife, sliding it back into its holster at my thigh, and follow out of curiosity. I’m not a prisoner here, and I won’t let them keep me caged in a room.
It was late when Dean took me from Mia’s bed so I have no shoes, but I don’t really have time to worry about my wardrobe right now. I pull back my dark hair into a makeshift ponytail and follow everyone down the hallway.
We end up in the great room near the front of the house. Wait, I should say mansion. The ceiling is a million miles high above my head. Ok, maybe not a million, but it’s definitely way out of reach. The furniture and decor are way out of my price range. The place almost looks like a museum, and I don’t touch anything.
Dean taps a button on his watch and a flat-screen appears out of thin air. He turns on the TV and the weather channel comes into focus. Hurricane Isla. She’s already hammered her way through the Virgin Islands and has made a major turn to the right and is now heading our way.
“How long until it hits?” Dean asks.
We watch the reporter give details and updates.
“Tomorrow, but we have no way to fly back to New York because we’ll have to fly right over the storm.”
Dean scrubs a hand over his stubbled jaw and it’s seriously becoming an action I enjoy watching him repeat. I think I could sit here and watch him all day, but I turn my attention to the TV instead.
Months of planning down the drain, because there’s no getting off this island. They’ve grounded all flights. I’m stuck here. I can’t be stuck here. I need to get to New York before I lose my chance to kill Bishop for good.
I’m so upset at myself for failing. How was I to know Dean and his men would come to spoil my plan?
No, I’ve been searching for Bishop for far too long to let this minor setback slow me down. I need off this island.
And I need off it tonight.