has to have you look at Mr. Bates in order for your testimony to be recorded.”
Tears of agony overflowed from my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. With my eyes still shut, I pictured my father’s smiling face in front of me—the way his strong arms felt when he drew me in for a tight hug. And it was then I felt my father’s strength enveloping me.
I opened my eyes wide and stared at Willie. Sitting in a suit and tie, he looked much different from the way he had that night. But all I had to do was imagine him in the leather vest he had worn before, and there were no doubts.
As he sneered at me, I pulled my shoulders back and once again pointed at Willie. “Him. He’s the man who killed my father.”
I was jerked out of my flashback at the sound of the bathroom door flying open. “Sam?”
Lifting my head, I gazed at his reflection in the mirror. “Sorry. I just needed a minute.”
Bishop’s expression was filled with concern. He closed the gap between us and came to stand beside me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Sam. You just bolted from the courtroom, and I come in here and find you in tears.” He put his hands on my waist and turned me around to face him. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
I knew that I had two options. I could concoct an elaborate lie by saying that seeing Ansley had brought back memories of a young girl I had seen murdered. Or I could tell him the truth about my father—or at least the version that wouldn’t out me as an agent.
In the end, it was a no-brainer. I chose the second. “You know how my father died when I was eight?”
“Yeah,” Bishop replied.
“Well, he didn’t just die. He was murdered by a biker named Willie Bates.”
Bishop’s blue eyes widened. “Go on.”
Leaning back against the sink, I told him everything about that night. Then I told him about having to testify at the trial. “When Ansley took the stand, it sent me reeling with a flashback. I had to get out of there.”
Bishop drew me into his strong arms. His hands ran along my back. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he murmured into my ear.
It meant so much to have Bishop’s sympathy, because he knew what it was like to lose a loved one to a violent death. A quiet “Thanks” left my lips, but no other words seemed adequate.
He pulled back to look me in the eye. “Now it all makes sense about the way you felt about bikers. It went deeper than just what happened to Marley.”
“Yes. It does.”
“No one should have to go through what you did as a kid.” Bishop’s hands came to cup my cheeks. “If I could take the pain and hurt away from you, I would.”
Tears pooled in my eyes at his kind words, and I knew he was sincere about taking away my pain. Once again, he was such a paradox of appearing so tough outside and being so tender on the inside. Words seemed inadequate to express my gratitude. All I could murmur was “You really are the sweetest man I know.”
When Bishop started to bring his lips to mine, I brought my hand up to stop him. “Trust me, you don’t want to do that.”
“You get sick or something?”
“Oh yeah. Big-time.”
He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
“What about Rev?”
“I’ll tell him you need to get back.”
“But then he’ll have to ride by himself.”
Bishop chuckled. “He’s a big boy, Sam. He can make it home on his own. He rode all the way to Virginia in the middle of December by himself.”
“What in the hell would possess him to do that?”
“He was going to tell Annabel he loved her.”
“Damn, that’s romantic,” I mused.
“Yeah, Rev’s a deep guy. He’s a hell of a lot more romantic than I’ll ever be.”
“I don’t think that’s necessarily true.”
He cocked his eyebrows at me. “You got some crazy feat in mind to make me prove myself?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t always have to be grand gestures. What you just did was pretty romantic.”
Bishop gave me a skeptical look. “I just came to look for you. I’d hardly call that really exceptional.”
“But you cared enough to be worried about me, and you came into the women’s bathroom to make sure I was all right.”
“Oh Jesus, I hadn’t even thought of that. Let’s get the hell out