The Rogue
Chapter 30

Ryan was going to lose his f*****g mind. Granted, not even thirty minutes had passed since he’d hung up with Addison, but each one of them had felt like an ice age. She’d assured him Chloe would be safe—the patrol team guarding her was on heightened alert, even though they had no reason to believe Bishop was anywhere near her.

So why was he so on edge?

“Come on, Dempsey. Get your shit together,” he said, pacing his condo for the billionth time since he’d hung up the phone. He hadn’t wanted to distract Addison; in fact, he’d waited until he was sure she’d have stashed her phone to call. Stupid, really, but he’d known the sound of her voice, even on her voicemail recording, would soothe him just a little. But now, not knowing what was going on was killing him, and okay, he needed to channel his energy into something other than climbing the walls.

“That’s it,” Ryan said, going into his bedroom. He could go for a quick run, just a few laps around the neighborhood to give his nerves a place to go. He’d have his phone with him the whole time, so he wouldn’t miss Addison’s call when it came in. Yeah, this was a good idea. It would kill the next thirty minutes to an hour and calm the worry/dread/adrenal!ne c0cktail brewing inside of him, at least a little.

He changed into a muscle shirt and a pair of nylon workout pants, then laced up his running shoes. He triple-checked that his phone was fully charged, then slipped it into the zippered back pocket of his pants, where he’d certainly feel it vibrate when Addison called. With a final deep breath, he opened the door, ready to hit the trail—

And found himself face-to-face with the business end of a gun.

“What the f**k?” Ryan blurted, the shock throwing him off guard just enough to hesitate.

Bishop—holy shit, Bishop was here?—used the hitch to his advantage, shoving Ryan back into the condo and locking the door. “Thank you for making this so easy.”

Ryan’s brain spun like a carousel gone off the rails, unable to land on anything that made sense. “What are you doing here?”

“Killing you,” Bishop said, and damn, he seemed far too happy about the answer.

Cold sweat formed between Ryan’s shoulder blades, his heart beginning to jackhammer. “I, uh. What?”

“You deserve it.” Using the gun as motivation, Bishop forced Ryan further into the condo, away from the windows. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t interfered.”

Not even the fact that Bishop was armed could keep Ryan from saying, “Are you kidding me? You stalked my sister. You raped and killed five other women after doing the same to them.”

The blow came out of nowhere, sending stars across Ryan’s vision as pain ripped a path across his temple, making his molars rattle.

“Shut up!” Bishop spat. “You don’t get to talk about those women. You don’t know anything about them.”

Ryan blinked, trying to regain his equilibrium as he fought the nausea roiling in his belly, and Bishop continued.

“I loved them. All of them. Just like I love Chloe. But they didn’t understand. I tried to make them understand!”

“You raped them, then strangled them,” Ryan said. His only hope was to get Bishop so lathered up that he got sloppy with the gun. Then, Ryan could try to overpower him. Provided that he didn’t goad Bishop into putting a bullet in him, anyway.

Bishop’s face purpled with rage. Before he could hit Ryan again, Ryan’s phone began to vibrate in his back pocket, the buzz cutting through the silence like a hacksaw.

“Take your phone out of your pocket,” Bishop said. “And don’t even think about answering that call, unless you’d like me to redecorate the wall behind you with your gray matter.”

Ryan pulled his phone free, handling it at the edges so Bishop wouldn’t shoot him. Addison’s name flashed over the screen, and yeah, that didn’t do a damned thing to keep the guy calm.

“Of course. Detective Hale.” Bishop rolled his eyes. “Drop it.”

For a second, Ryan almost balked. But Addison had to know something was seriously wrong by now, just as she’d really know something was wrong if he didn’t answer. He just had to stay calm until she got here.

“Okay.” Ryan dropped his phone, still buzzing, to the carpet.

Bishop smashed it with the heel of his boot, grinding the pieces until the buzzing stopped. “There. That’s better. Now, where were we? Oh, right. I’m going to kill you.”

Think. Think, think, you have to think. “Bishop, listen. You still have time to run. You just smashed my phone, so I can’t call anyone. But if you kill me—”

“You don’t get to decide! I’m in charge, here. Me!” Bishop screamed, edging him further into the condo, close to the kitchen. Indicating one of the chairs at the breakfast table, he said, “Now, sit.”

Ryan’s survival instinct howled, forcing his adrenaline into overdrive. “Bishop—”

He thrust the gun forward, aimed directly at Ryan’s chest. “Sit.”

Dread pulsed through him, but no. No, no. He had to stay calm. “Okay. Okay, I’m sitting.”

Edging backward as slowly as he could, Ryan sat in the chair, his hands raised so Bishop could see them.

Bishop smiled, his face twisted in rage. “Good. We’ve still got a few minutes before I have to leave, and I promise you. They will hurt.”

The second blow came with more force than the first, shocking Ryan for only a blink before everything went black.

Addison dialedRyan’s number for the ninth time in the last three minutes while Maxwell drove like his a*ss was on fire. She’d completely surpassed fear, the feeling pumping through her so terrifying that she couldn’t name it even though it had complete control of her. But as soon as Bishop had been a no-show and patrol had insisted Chloe and Master Ah-lam were safe at the dojang, Capelli had pulled up the live feed from the security cameras at Ryan’s condo.

Bishop was there. Oh, God, he was there with Ryan, probably doing unspeakable things to hurt him, and why couldn’t they go any faster?

Her call went straight to voicemail again, and she hung up before Ryan’s voice could register in her ears or tear at her heart. “No answer,” she said.

The radio on the dashboard crackled, then Capelli’s voice filtered over the line. “Be advised, Bishop is still on scene. Patrol units are responding. ETA six minutes.”

“We’ll be there in three,” Maxwell promised.

Addison’s heart slammed at the knowledge of how much damage a person could inflict on another person in three minutes. “Maxwell—”

“I know.” Funny, the look on his face told her he really did. “Dempsey’s tough, and the fact that Bishop is still there is a good sign. We’re going to get there in time. We are.”

Addison gave up a broken nod. She reached for her calm, trying to grab it with both hands. But it slipped away from her, and no amount of breathing or centering or training could get her past the one thought taking over her body and brain.

I love him. I love him, and I can’t live without him.

Maxwell rounded the corner to the condo community, lights blazing. “Hale, we need a plan. You can’t just—”

Instinct propelled her from the car before Maxwell had even gotten it into park. Addison could hear him cursing behind her, but they were out of time. Her boots pounded the pavement, her hand replaceing her weapon mid-step as she ran in lung-bursting strides until she reached Ryan’s door. She didn’t even hesitate before kicking it in, and though she knew the crash had probably been deafening, she barely heard it past the ricochet of her heart.

“RPD!” she yelled, her weapon trained in front of her. The first thing that registered was the smashed cell phone on the carpet, the spatter of b***d beside it turning her throat into a knot. A flicker of movement yanked her attention to the kitchen, and oh, God. Oh, God, oh, no, no, no.

“Ryan?”

He was slumped in a kitchen chair, his face a bruised and bloody mess. He was semi-conscious, Addison realized with a hard shot of relief. But the feeling died a quick death at the sight of Bishop a few paces away, a gun trained directly at Ryan’s chest.

“Detective Hale. How kind of you to join us,” he said.

Her weapon swung toward him before her brain even got the message that her arms would move. “Drop it, Bishop. This is over.”

His maniacal laugh sent a shiver down her spine. “You’re right about that,” he said, not moving as Maxwell came crashing through the door, skidding to a halt in the kitchen doorway beside Addison. “Well, I suppose now it’s a party.”

“Drop your weapon, or I will shoot you,” Addison warned again.

Again, he laughed. “I don’t think so. See, this may be over, but I’m still going to do what I came here to do. If I can’t have Chloe, then he can’t have you.”

“Bishop,” Maxwell bit out. “Drop your weapon and put your hands on your head. Right now.”

“How about you drop your weapons?” he snapped, his gun still pointed directly at Ryan, and Addison’s stomach clenched in cold, stark fear. “Put them down, right now, or I’ll shoot him in that pretty face. His death will be your fault.”

Maxwell stood absolutely still for a fraction of a second, then said, “Okay. Okay, we’ll lower our weapons.” He lifted both hands, but Addison shook her head.

“No.”

For a split second, shock moved through Bishop’s stare. Then, he said, “If you don’t, I’ll shoot your boyfriend, here. And I promise you, he won’t live.”

“This building is surrounded with cops,” she said. God, this was a risk—a huge one—but she couldn’t lower her weapon. Not with Ryan’s life on the line. Bishop was going to kill him no matter what she did.

She couldn’t lose him. No matter the risk.

“You know you aren’t going to make it out of here. You’re going to shoot him anyway. So, no. I’m not going to let you do that. Not on my watch.”

For the longest second of her life, everyone stood motionless. Time crept by in a slow-motion crawl as Bishop’s laugh filled Addison’s ears. Her brain registered the movement, the swing of his gaze toward Ryan, the tense of his muscles and the tightening of his finger on the trigger, and she didn’t think or breathe or hesitate.

She fired twice, hitting Bishop center mass. Maxwell, ever fast on the draw, fired, too, lunging forward to kick the gun from Bishop’s grasp as the man crumpled to the floor. Addison ran to Ryan, her hands traveling over him in assessment, and he opened his eyes to meet hers.

“Addison,” he wheezed. Her hands hit something hot and we*t, and fear seized her chest.

“No. No,” she said, easing him down to the floor. Over her shoulder, she screamed, “I need a medic in here! Right f*****g now!” Her training slammed her limbs into motion, and she pressed both hands over the eerily tidy bullet hole marring Ryan’s T-shirt.

“Listen to me, Ryan. I’ve got you, okay? I need you to stay with me, though.”

Maxwell dropped to his knees on Ryan’s other side, pressing his hands over hers as the rest of the unit crashed over the threshold. “God damn it. Bishop must have gotten that shot off.” Directing his stare at Ryan, he said, “We’ve got you, man. Bishop’s down. Just stay here, okay?”

“I’m…tired…” he said, and Addison’s vision blurred with something she belatedly realized were tears.

“Nope. No napping just yet, babe.” Oh, God, there was so much b***d welling up between her fingers, thoroughly wrecking the little area rug beneath Ryan’s body, and she couldn’t make it stop. Where were the f*****g medics? “You’ve got to stick it out just a little while longer, okay? Do you hear me?” Her voice hitched, her tears flowing freely now. “God damn it, I’m not asking, Ryan.”

“It must”—he coughed, and no, no, no, there was b***d there, too—“be bad if you’re panicking.”

“I’m…shh.” Addison’s throat closed. This wasn’t happening. This could not happen.

Ryan blinked, his beautiful green eyes landing on her for just a beat before seeming to lose focus. “I love you,” he said.

Then, his eyes drifted shut.