Bad Bishop by L.J. Shen - 52
The clock struck ten thirty when I put my sketchbook down and rose from the couch. I couldn’t sit around twiddling my thumbs while my husband was having a showdown with my rapist. Fury and exasperation swirled in my gut. I knew Tiernan wanted to keep me safe, and I appreciated his protectiveness, bu...
The clock struck ten thirty when I put my sketchbook down and rose from the couch.
I couldn’t sit around twiddling my thumbs while my husband was having a showdown with my rapist.
Fury and exasperation swirled in my gut. I knew Tiernan wanted to keep me safe, and I appreciated his protectiveness, but I was my own person, and I wanted to confront my attacker. I deserved to give him a piece of my mind. I even fantasized about telling him everything verbally. Watching his shock as he realized I could speak.
Tiernan made me promise I’d never follow him, never put myself in harm’s way, but we’d never discussed this rule in the case that I knew his life was in danger. He was underestimating the man who raped me. Sure, his actions so far were a little chaotic, but ultimately, he had managed to sneak under everyone’s radar undetected this many months into the pregnancy.
Obviously, he was doing something right.
I was going to break my promise to my husband. Just this one time.
I grabbed my pink gun and tucked it in the satin ribbon holding together my pink maternity dress. It was easily concealed between the rich fabrics of my frock. I slid my phone into my purse and took the stairs down to the pub. Fintan and Tierney weren’t there, and it was still closed to the public. An ocean of scary-looking Irish soldiers looked up from their pints and game of cards. I shot them a glare and punched my phone’s keyboards, using a text-to-speech app.
“I want to go to 7-Eleven to get some chocolate.”
They looked between them, hesitant. I wasn’t one for rash decisions and didn’t have a sweet tooth. And I never asked my bodyguards to take me anywhere. In fact, I usually pretended they didn’t exist.
A bulky guy named Flynn stood up. “Give us a list, will you? I’ll go grab whatever ya fancy.”
Shaking my head, I typed on my phone, transferring my text into words.
“I don’t know what I want. I need to go there and see.”
“It’s late,” he argued.
I tossed a shoulder up.
“And cold,” someone else said.
I rolled my eyes.
“Tiernan said not to let you out of our sight,” a third soldier chimed, his throat bobbing with a swallow. I couldn’t believe the man put fifty soldiers in charge of protecting one tiny woman who never left the house. This was overkill, even for my husband.
“Good thing you are coming with me, then,” my phone sing-songed my words.
Heaving out a sigh, the largest soldier pushed off his seat, draining the last of his Guinness. “Be back in a few.”
“I’ll come with.” A second soldier stood up. Then a third, and, to my horror, a fourth.
God, I couldn’t take them all down.
“I’m not getting into the car with all of you,” my phone declared robotically.
“Boss says four soldiers is the minimum for your security,” mammoth soldier replied.
“I don’t feel comfortable being in a confined space with a bunch of big men. Do you know what happens to men who make me feel uncomfortable?” I arched an eyebrow.
Another round of frustrated scowls ping-ponged in the room.
“Ah, shite.” The mammoth soldier, who was also the highest ranking one, tore his jacket from the back of his booth and stomped to the door. “Make it quick.”
I followed him, waiting while he pulled the car from the garage and rounded it to the front of the pub. I slid into the back, right behind the driver’s seat.
He started driving down the street, taking a turn right into an intersection.
Heart thrumming, I pulled my gun out of my waistband and pressed it to the back of his closely shaved head. He froze. I cocked the gun.
Pushing my phone screen into his face with my other hand from behind, I pointed at the address the attacker had sent me earlier in the day. “Floor it,” I said vocally.
He gulped, nodding once.
Ten minutes that felt like two hours later, I hopped out of the car before he even made a full stop, still aiming the pistol at him. There wasn’t much he could do to chase me. He was armed to his teeth, but he knew moving a hair on my head would land him in all of Dante’s circles of hell.
I moved quietly in the night. The port was an abandoned cluster of warehouses sitting in a deserted harbor. The stench of stale weed, piss, and human decay hung in the air. Whoever had invited me here knew Hunts Point well enough to choose this strategic location. The buildings were all flat-roofed, two-storied, arranged in a U-shape. If you stood at the center of that U, you were a plain target.
My husband knew that, which was why I spotted him almost immediately, moving sleekly close to the walls of the buildings, disappearing into crooks, checking his surroundings calmly. It was possible my attacker was not going to show himself to Tiernan, but it was extremely unlikely said attacker was going to slip under Tiernan’s radar this time.
I scanned my surroundings for a hideout the way my husband had taught me and settled behind a broken-down car that slumped on the side of the port. It was rusty and loaded with old shopping bags inside. I had a good view of Tiernan, though. And that was what mattered.
My husband stopped in an alcove, pulled out his phone to check it.
Smart boy.
I needed him alive.
The baby kicked inside me, demonstrating his disapproval at my quick heart rate. I wasn’t stupid. I figured Tiernan forwarded my messages to himself to communicate with the attacker. They were likely texting now.
I noticed the duffel with the money my attacker asked for sitting in the center of the U.
A shadow danced across the roof above Tiernan’s head. My eyes snapped to it. A person. Dressed all in black, wearing a balaclava. He was army-crawling across the roof, a rifle in his hands. Because he wasn’t standing up, Tiernan couldn’t see him.
But I could.
The person aimed their firearm at Tiernan, but he had a terrible angle. My husband knew better than to make himself vulnerable. Still, if this was a seasoned sniper, it was game over.
If it were Tiernan on the roof, he’d take the shot and kill him in a heartbeat.
This is your attacker, Lila. The man who took the most precious thing you owned. Your innocence.
The person on the roof scratched at their balaclava, frustrated, scooting forward, trying to get a better angle on my husband.
I choked on my breath, jerking my own pistol and aiming it at the person on the roof. He was closer to me than he was to Tiernan, but it was still going to be a hard shot. In the pitch dark. With a moving target lying flat a few dozen feet above me.
But one shot was all I had.
Especially if this guy knew what he was doing.
My heart pounded so hard I was nauseous.
I ran through all of Tiernan’s instructions in my head.
Steady hands.
Wide stance.
Use your dominant eye.
Squeeze when you exhale. Your money shot is when your lungs are empty.
Study the wind.
Shoot dirty.
I took a deep breath.
The person on the roof scooted forward, cocking his rifle.
Tiernan’s head shot up at the sound.
I exhaled all the oxygen from my lungs.
Then I took my shot.
The pink gun fired, the bullet spinning in the air for a nanosecond before landing clean in the attacker’s head. He fell from the roof, landing on the ground.
Tiernan whipped his head in my direction. I raised my hands in truce. He stepped from the shadows, brows creased in confusion, gun aimed toward me.
He looked pissed .
That’s when I realized he didn’t recognize me.
Had no idea who I was.
My attacker didn’t come out of this alive.
But neither would I.
Wpdowns
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