Page 124 of Renegade Ruin

BISHOP: Thanks for checking in. I’m as okay as I can be. Let the family know I’ll call as soon as I can.

Just as I hit send, another text comes through from Jackson.

JACKSON: What the fuck is going on down there?

BISHOP: As soon as I know for sure I’ll let you know.

JACKSON: Are you with Willow?

BISHOP: No

JACKSON: WHY THE FUCK NOT??

That’s a great question. Maybe because I have no idea where she is. Or if she even wants me there.

I ignore him, not needing the berating I am sure is coming.

Setting the phone back down, I glance across the bar to the TV we’ve commandeered, playing the highlight reel of the press conference.

Over and over, I’ve watched the footage. The glint in Willow’s eyes that was just for me. It screams of the passion we share. A moment existing only between us when she was at my mercy. Her pussy filled with my toy. Then Monroe asks his fucked-up questions, and that passion is instantly replaced by sheer terror.

I have never wanted to kill a man, but I was damn close in that moment.

A torso blocks my view, and I look up to find Carson standing there. He’s not wearing his signature smile. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look almost despondent.

“As your co-captain, I feel as though it’s my duty to tell you we need to do something about this. The team is getting antsy. None of them want to head up to their rooms, but sitting here isn’t going to get us answers any faster and rumors are starting to spread.”

He voices everything on my mind.

“You think I don’t know that?” It’s the only reason I’m still here and not tearing through Fort Myers to find Willow. I have to trust she’s in good hands with Graham and Nikki and if she needed me, she’d let me know. The team, on the other hand, is my responsibility.

They haven’t exactly been quiet with their comments. There’s anger from some. Whispers that their former teams could have made the playoff last season if they were given fair calls. There’s apprehension from others about inviting someone like Mercer Cohen back into the league, let alone onto their team. Some are going so far as to question if Willow knew all along. Overall, they trust her as an owner, but the few that don’t, like Sharpe, are working hard to sow seeds of doubt through the team.

“I know you do.” Carson runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You look like you’re ready to murder someone.”

“I am,” I growl.

“Would this have anything to do with a certain blonde-haired owner?”

“No, why would it?—”

Carson holds up a hand, halting my denial. “Don’t play dumb with me. I’m your co-captain. And you’ve shown up to one too many practices smelling of lavender and lemon.”

“I—” Fuck. Willow’s going to kill me. “How do you know what she smells like?”

“It’s a curse, really. Nose like a damn bloodhound.” He falls into the seat beside me and lifts his glass like he’s goddamned Vanna White. “I can also tell you that this beer has hints of orange and an undertone of cloves mixed with the hops. And Julian is sleeping with the concierge.”

My brow raises, silently asking if he’s fucking serious.

“Even if I didn’t smell her on you, there’s also the fact that any time the two of you are in the same room, you look like you’re going to devour one another.”

Do we? Did I? Shit. I—I want to blame it on our arrangement, but even I know that’s a lie. Even if I hadn’t been fucking her every which way for the last month, I’d still look at her that way. New Year’s and knowledge of how she sounded coming apart on my cock solidified that. Now, though?

You love her.Tommy says the words I won’t let myself believe.

Until now.

Fuck. I do.

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