Page 144 of Bishop's Queen

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“Go,” Jared demanded in Bishop’s ear. “You have a go!”

“Take down your target,” Rocco ordered.

Bishop went high, his right hook swinging hard and making contact as his left hand connected with Jay’s, transferring the remote. Locke dove behind Jay, ripping his free hand behind his back. If they did this wrong, and there was a dead-man’s switch, Tara was dead.

But they wouldn’t do this wrong, because he and Locke were in step. What had happened at Seneca Park was a fluke. They were a team. He might not be able to see Locke eye to eye, but he had to trust his brother-in-arms.

“Got the bastard,” Locke grunted.

Bishop had the remote, fumbling and gaping. Best he could tell, there was a detonation trigger and no dead-man’s switch. The next seconds lasted a lifetime. He waited for the report of a blast, braced for the reverb.

It didn’t come.Thank fuck.

Bishop advanced. “Let him go.”

“I made her,” Jay spat.

Locke let go, and Jay bounded to his feet.

Bishop let his right hook fly. The resounding crack of his fist into Jay’s jaw didn’t feel a tenth of how good it would feel to get back to Ella, but damned if he wasn’t glad to have taken the punch.

Locke snagged the still-rebounding Jay, and Bishop didn’t look back. Those precious seconds he’d taken to hit Jay were selfish.Fuck it.They were needed, but selfish.

Ella stood semi-frozen onstage, her arm hanging awkwardly, her face twisted in pain as shocked, sad tears mixed with her makeup. Bishop sprinted to her, immediately stabilizing her arm.

“Babe, please stop moving.” He ignored Jay’s muffled shouts in the background.

“Ella needs to stay put. Bomb techs hustling ass up the stairs,” Parker reported. “A minute, tops.”

“Bishop,” Rocco’s low voice warned. “I’ve got to tell you to walk away from her.”

“Fuck that, boss.”

“Understood.”

Ella shook in pain, and Bishop tried like all hell to keep her arm still. If this bracelet was blowing up, he was going with her. That minute was the longest sixty seconds of his life.

Finally, two people in bomb suits rounded the stage corner. Ella’s lips chattered with nerves and pain.

“It’s almost done,” he said. “Then we can go get Furry Baby and Little Kitty. Take them to hang with Brick. They’ll have fun.”

“You said their names,” she whispered hoarsely.

Because Lord knew he was trying to do whatever the hell it took to keep her still and thinking happy thoughts. “You picked up on that.”

The techs assessed the situation as they took the remote detonator from him and pulled out their tools. “You need to move, sir.”

“Not a chance.”

“We don’t have the time or equipment to protect you.”

“I give zero fucks. Get this off of her.”

A man holding a tool grimaced. “It’s going to hurt like hell considering what her skin looks like.”

“Do it.”

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