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Siblings. They’re siblings, and now that I know, I see the resemblance as clearly as I see the similarities between Kane and Gunner.
The blonde hair. The blue eyes. They even have the same teeth.
“We’re coming in,” Kane’s voice booms from the front door. “We’re here, just like you ordered, and we’re coming in the front door.”
Olly breaks away from the sisters at the bar, sprints around to the back, and picks up a fully automatic Colt commando. “Come in slowly. I want to see three faces only. Three Bishops, and then my collection is complete.” He rests the gun against the bar and points it straight at the door. “Go and sit with the others,” he says to the Hayes women. “Go sit by the stage, but stay out of range. Don’t let them grab you.”
“By the stage?” Zoey whines. “No, we’re with you.”
“Fine.” He shakes his head and points behind himself. “Come behind the bar. Stay out of my way.” Four long, tanned legs move fast as they dive over the bar and duck low, like the bitches think Olly will save them. How do they not hear his words? His ‘collection is complete’. He’s captured them just as surely as he’s captured the rest of us.
They’re just too stupid to see it.
Gunner steps through the door first and brings my heart up into my throat. He looks taller today, broader, scarier as he shields the brothers that never wanted him and draws Olly’s eyes. “I’m not lying when I say I’m shocked by this shit.” He walks forward with his hands lifted. “I thought we were brothers. I honestly thought we were.”
“No, Griffin. You have no brothers.” He tilts his head in our direction. “Came looking for your other chess pieces?”
Finally, Gunner’s eyes break away from the man he considered a friend and lock on to mine. His shutter, sparkle, and deaden as though he needs to stop feeling to be able to cope. He looks like the man I argued with so long ago when he was asking where my loyalties lay.
He mechanizes himself, and carries the Bishop name well.
Three Bishop men take slow steps into the room, but there is still thirty feet remaining between them and the bar, and none of them have a weapon in their hands. They’re armed,heavily, but it’s all in holsters, and by the time they get a hand down to them, Olly’s Colt will have taken care of his every wish.
These three men have identical jaw structures and eyes, if you ignore the color. They have the same builds, same heights, same widths. There are as many similarities between the three of them as there are between Olly and Evie, and it took all these years for us to get them to work together as one.
Not one of them are a tagalong. None of the three brothers are a weakness. Gunner is the computer brain, in a way, and right now, he’s taking the point of the spear like he thinks he’s also the firewall. Jay is the muscle. And Kane is the father and coordinator. He won’t let either of them hurt, because as the oldest, it’s his job to keep his family safe.
There is no stealth about their work. Olly knew they were coming, and now they walk through the front door without a care for their safety.
Gunner’s eyes flicker back to mine every few seconds, but it takes until the third or fourth for me to realize he’s not looking at my eyes at all, but my chest. He’s studying my vest, and his brows wrinkle each time he tries to look at Evie, only to find her slumping over.
“Evie.” I whisper and run my fingertip over her wrist to gain her attention. “Sit tall. Let him see.”
Her eyes come up as though out of a daze, but when she processes my words, she sits unnaturally tall and lets him see the entire front of her vest.
I look back to Gunner for his approval, but when his finger rotates just the tiniest fraction, I look back to Evie. “Turn, baby. He wants to see the back.”
She looks to me as though to check I’m certain. She’s terrified beyond reasoning. She’s afraid to move, but when I nod, she slowly spins and draws in a startled breath when the door under the stage cracks open.
“What are you doing over there?” Olly’s voice is like the crack of a whip and makes us jump.
Evie’s head spins back as fresh tears slide over her cheeks, but the stage door remains closed but for a quarter of an inch. The stage is black, and the doors are black, so it’s all camouflaged in itself. Olly doesn’t see the door cracked open. He sees Evie.
“I told her to turn.” I sit taller. “She’s a baby, and she’s terrified. If she’s going to…” I clear my throat and feel the crack in my heart when Evie’s cry tears from her chest. “She doesn’t have to watch, Olly. Don’t be a monster. Let her go. She’s not actually part of this game. She wasn’t born when we were in that club.”
“But she’s part of it now, isn’t she? The blood she pumps says so.” Uncaring that Evie would rather not see her death front-on, he turns back to the Bishops, who continued to creep forward in his distraction. “Stop there.” His finger presses against the trigger as though he intends to fire at any moment, but my attention is drawn back to Evie as she moves to sit in front of the door to shield its movement.
Her back hides the pair of bolt cutters that slide through the gap, but it’s not Aiden’s eyes or hands I see. Not Ben’s, either. A younger set. A smaller boy.
Mac’s face is ghostly pale, his brow sweating as he works the cutters over the first padlock and pushes with all his strength to snap the metal. He’s barely healthy, his strength is depleted, but he works hard to cut the metal, and jumps when, at the minute mark, the watches beep, like they have every other minute we’ve been wearing them.
“Keep going.” Evie’s murmur is like a chant. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”
“How long?” he asks in a whisper. “How long on the watch?”
Evie casts a fast glance back to the bar to find Kane and Olly speaking. They discuss fortunes, they discuss hard work and ingenuity, and all the while, Gunner’s eyes remain on us. He sees what we’re doing. He wants to run to us, but the second he breaks formation, Olly’s gun will spill blood.
Evie pulls the watch from her vest pocket and chokes on a silent cry. “Nine minutes, thirty-three seconds.”
