Page 127 of Bishop's Queen

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” At least not one that he was going to admit to on the phone with the boss’s wife.

“Oh, for God’s sake. She’s cute as a fuckin’ button.”

“Seems smart—”

“That was Lexi,” Sugar said. “No one on this phone cares if you’re nailing your detailee.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this really why you’re calling me?”

“Get used to it,” Caterina said—Bishop knew her accent. “Sugar is in everyone’s business, and the second she smells sex, she’s making calls, playing matchmaker, and butting in like you would not believe.”

“That’s terrific. Really.” He kneaded the hollows by his eyes then rubbed a hand over his face. “But I need to get back to work.”

“Exactly. That’swhyI was calling. Jeez. You’d think I didn’t have a point.”

“And that is…”

“We were watching her just now—”

“Just now?” Bishop turned toward Ella’s condo door.

“And you need to remind that woman, do no harmbut take no shit.”

“Loud and clear.” He saw red. “I gotta go.” Then he turned to Locke, nodded good-bye, and let himself into Ella’s unit with Locke’s warning to chill out burning in his ears.

“El?” Where was she making a video in real time? When Jay was out there, stalking herin real time. What was she thinking? She wasn’t. Simple. Jay was thorough. Shit, that man was a predator, and Ella was making it easy for him, even if he already knew where she lived. It wasn’t the point.

Bishop scanned the living room and kitchen. No Ella. “Ella?”

Not in the laundry.

He tapped the ajar bathroom door. Not in there.

Stomach churning, he headed to her “fake” bedroom. Empty. Flawless. The covers were smooth, not even recently sat on. There was only one other place in this condo. But she wouldn’t. No. Right? No way would Ella make a video from the only slice of privacy she had.

His molars smashed together as he approached the door. Light escaped from underneath it. Stupid move. Really? No. First, she went live, and second, from in there? Anger pounded in his chest that her recklessness was endangering the one thing he cared too much about:her.

Bishop crashed into the room, letting Ella’s bedroom door slam against her wall. It hit so hard, the door bounced back, and he knocked it again with his elbow.

There she was, in the center of her bed, phone still in hand and tablet by her knee. “You can’t even put the damn thing down.”

Her wild expression tracked to the door and back to him. “What?”

“What were you doing?”

“Oh.” Ella pulled her knees under her and dropped the phone, avoiding his glare. “My job. Like always.”

“Wrong. Not like always. Look around you, babe. What’s different? When is it different?Things are different.”

She shrank back into the row of pillows. “I know.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I just felt so lost. And alone.”

“So you turned to a million strangers? Pick up the phone, Ella. Talk to a real person.”

“I did, and Tara said—”

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