Chapter 7

seven

. . .

Bishop

" Y ou don't have to follow me," River said as she stormed outside into the bright afternoon sun.

"Yeah, I do."

When she got to the shade of a big old oak, she whirled around to face me. "Why? Did he put you up to this? Are you supposed to watch me and make sure I don't step out of line?"

I almost laughed because it couldn't be further from the truth. Right on the heels of that impulse came shock, because I couldn't remember the last time I'd found anything remotely funny.

My world was a dark place filled with the ghosts of my past. I kept myself busy so I wouldn't have to listen to the screams. So I could try, as long as possible, to forget. These days, duty was the only thing keeping me sane.

"No."

"You're a real chatterbox, aren't you?"

"No."

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips quirked into a smile.

It was then I saw the blood on her lip, and a cold pit formed in my stomach. Anger barrelled through me as I reached out to wipe away the blood without conscious thought. The heat of her burned, and I froze for a second as I realized that for the first time since returning to the States, I'd willingly touched another person. Isolation had been the only coping mechanism I had.

Darkness threatened in the periphery, the agonized wails filling my ears. I forced myself to breathe, to focus on the present and remind myself that I was safe.

When I spoke again, my voice was little more than a gravel-filled rasp. "He hurt you."

Eyes wide, she shook her head. "It's not mine. I bit him."

Relief hit me square in the chest. I really hadn't wanted to kill Cross, but with the way I'd reacted to the idea of him hurting her, that's where this was headed. I shouldn't be so focused on her. I didn't know the woman. I didn't owe her shit.

And yet . . .

I'd felt it the second those emerald eyes pierced mine. A sense of longing for the one thing I didn't have. A place I could lie down and rest. Home.

She lured me in as surely as a siren did a ship at sea.

It made her dangerous in a way a man like Cross could never be.

I needed to be careful around her. I'd forget why I was here. Forget my job and my responsibilities, and fall into her deep green eyes.

"Bishop?" she ventured, making me realize I was standing there staring at her.

What had we been talking about? Oh, right. It was his blood.

"Good."

Her brows rose, and her lips twitched again. "Good? I just bit your boss, and you think that's good?"

In my line of work, violence was not only expected, it was encouraged. I shrugged. "He probably had it coming."

She surprised me by humming a few bars of an old musical number before agreeing, "That he did."

"History?" I asked, sensing that there was a lot more to that story.

"You could say that."

I waited to see if she'd elaborate, but instead she walked along the fenceline, and I followed. There was just something about her that made me want to stay in her orbit.

"I can take care of myself, you know?" she tossed over her shoulder.

"I'm just walking with you."

"And watching me like a hawk."

"Maybe you need watching."

She spun around, hands on her hips. "I'd find that offensive if I wasn't so sure you believed it." Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. It was hard not to fidget under her inspection. She saw too much. I knew it the second her expression softened and her hands fell. "You're ex-military, aren't you?"

My gut churned. I didn't talk about my time as a SEAL for lots of reasons. One, I'd seen some shit. Shit I couldn't come back from. There was no fucking way I'd darken her mind with my nightmares.

"How'd you know?"

"It's the haunted look in your eyes. A friend of mine was special ops. He took me under his wing too. He said he was never the same, but it helped to have a purpose. Something to focus on besides his memories."

Was that what I was doing? Taking her under my wing?

"Distractions are important."

"Do you have nightmares?"

She reached for me, and I flinched away from her touch on instinct. "Please don't... I don't like to be touched."

Jesus, this woman was disarming. Usually I didn't even let myself get close enough for it to be an issue.

Understanding flitted across her face, and she pulled her hand back. "My apologies."

"No, I'm sorry . . ."

"You have no reason to apologize. I shouldn't have assumed. You're entitled to your boundaries, Bishop. Same as everybody else."

Swallowing hard, I pulled my shit together and nodded. "If he touches you again without your consent, tell me. I don't care who he is. I'll put a stop to it."

"Why are you so invested in me? You don't know me."

I shrugged and kept walking, my eyes on the horizon as we approached the small pond near the stables. There were a lot of answers I could give her, all of which were true, but I settled on the simplest.

"He's not a good man, River."

She stiffened. "I know."

"You deserve a good man."

Her brows flew up again as we reached the old oak and the wooden swing hanging from one of its boughs. Settling herself onto the bench, she looked up at me. "Are you an expert on what I need already, Bishop?"

"One look at you and I can tell you're pure. I've known men like him before. He'll tarnish you so quick you won't recognize yourself."

Her eyes went wide for a second before she snorted. "My, the image you have of me. It's going to hurt when I fall off that pedestal. And I will fall, Bishop. I'm not the wholesome little girl you think I am."

Some of the darkness I recognized filtered through her eyes, and it gutted me. No one should have to carry that kind of burden. It's the reason men like me enlisted in the first place. We were supposed to protect and shelter the people back home. But no one had been there to shelter River, and now she was in the thick of it. Thrust straight into a pit of vipers.

Good thing she had me.

Wait. What?

Where the hell had that come from?

Fuck, I was in trouble.

Using her toes, she swayed on the swing, back and forth, as she gazed out over the land.

"You know, I used to love it here. When I was a kid, this was my favorite place."

"And now?"

"Now it feels more like a prison."

I, better than most, knew what that was like. I wanted to reach out and give her a push, help her fly and feel her warmth against my rough palm. But I stopped myself as soon as that familiar anxiety gripped my chest.

"Why stay then?"

"I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

She shook her head. "No. Sometimes there's only one path, even if people try to make you think otherwise."

I remained rooted to the spot, processing her words. She seemed so resigned to her fate. "Are they keeping you here? It doesn't look like you're loyal to Cross."

"No. But remember all those people who rely on this place to feed their families? I'm responsible for them now. If I leave, this place is gone. Their jobs aren't protected anymore."

"What do you mean by that?"

She huffed out a bitter laugh. "How long do you have before you have to get back to work?"

Walking around so I could lean against the tree and look at her, I leveled my gaze on her beautiful face. "You're the boss, you tell me. Because if you need me to listen, I've got all damn day."

After a few silent beats, she sighed and began, "It's complicated..."

The longer she went on, outlining the terms of her inheritance, the more I realized that complicated was an understatement. They had her so wrapped up in legal barbed wire there was no way she could get out unless she wanted to blow up this whole operation.

Which maybe she did, but I couldn't let that happen.

Not when I was so close to my goal.

"Say something," she whispered.

"I don't have anything to say, siren. It's a hell of a situation."

She wilted a little, as if she'd been hoping I might hold the answer to this riddle.

Her disappointment was unbearable, so even though I had absolutely no reason to do so, I found myself offering, "But you don't have to figure this all out on your own."

"Thanks, Bishop. I... I didn't realize how much I needed a friend here. Cross is a dick. Walker, well, he's complicated too. He's just as invested in getting me to stay as his brother, and I don't know who to trust."

"Sterling," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

She blinked those pretty eyes up at me. "What?"

"Call me Sterling. If we're going to be friends, you should probably call me by my first name."

"Sterling Bishop? That's like a fictional super spy name."

I chuckled softly. "So I've been told. My parents were big James Bond fans."

She peered up at me. "And here I thought it had something to do with the color of your eyes."

"That was just a happy accident."

"Could have fooled me, Sterling."

Heat washed down my neck at her use of my name. I'd been Bishop longer than I could remember, but I didn't want to be Bishop with her. Bishop was broken and bloodstained. He was scarred inside and out. As tarnished as I'd told her she would be if she let Cross get his hooks in her.

Sterling was the man I was supposed to become once upon a time. And maybe, at least in her eyes, I could be him again.