Recover Me Page 6

  Bishop frowned. “What about the fights?”

  Chris shook his head. “Last night was her first time. Listen, she was in the hospital for almost a month, and then after that rehabilitation for physical therapy. Now she practically sleeps all day. I’m afraid Mr. Groto is mistaken.”

  Bishop didn’t reply because he was fighting the last hope that that was why she seemed so familiar to him, that he must have bumped into her somewhere. Otherwise, how did he explain the overwhelming sense of recognition?

  “I’ll let him know that,” he finally said. “I better go.”

  “Please don’t come back for her,” Chris said.

  Bishop was about to reply that would be easy, but somehow the words stuck in his throat.

  “She’s too fragile,” her brother continued. “I’m working on getting her help and Lord knows she’ll fight me tooth and nail. The last thing she needs is to be under Mr. Groto’s influence.”

  Bishop narrowed his eyes. “Usually I would take exception to something like that, but in this case … I completely agree. Don’t worry. I won’t bother Evelyn again.”

  Without looking back, he left her house, and fought down the urge to turn right back around and rush to her side. Evelyn Duncan was a whole lot of complications that he didn’t need.

  He drove back to Groto’s casino as slowly as possible, going a few miles under the speed limit in an effort to postpone having to face his boss. He had no doubt in his mind that Groto had been watching them in that camera. The scorch marks were still burning his back.

  When he finally made it back, he sat in his car, thinking about Evie and wondering what the hell had possessed him to kiss her. What was it about that girl that made him lose all sense of direction? His phone beeped and he glanced at the alert.

  Office.

  Bishop clicked the phone off and exited his car. Then he headed to the employee service elevator and hit the button for the office floor. He swiped his key card to gain access, dreading this talk with his boss, and when he finally made it to Groto’s office, he braced himself.

  “Sit,” Groto said as soon as he entered.

  Bishop tensed. The last time Groto had issued such an abrupt command he’d been a nineteen-year-old smart ass with a humongous chip on his shoulder. As soon as he sat, Groto pointed at the camera monitors plastered on his wall. Bishop followed his finger and saw himself paused in the kiss he had shared with Evie.

  “You told me you didn’t know her.”

  “I didn’t. I don’t.”

  “I won’t tolerate lies, Mr. Kain.”

  Annoyance flashed through Bishop. He didn’t like being called a liar, especially when he told nothing but the truth, but he held back his angry retort.

  “Are you developing feelings for Miss Duncan?”

  Bishop looked him in the eye. “No.”

  He saw the disbelief in Groto’s face a second before the man wiped his features clear. Truthfully, even he heard the insincerity in his own voice.

  “Then I trust there will be no more of these types of interactions with her.” Groto picked up the remote and shut off the monitors. “Understood?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Good,” Groto said as he stood up. “I’m heading to Carson City tomorrow. Make sure my helicopter is ready at noon.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  When Groto turned away, Bishop knew he was dismissed. He rose and left, curling his hands into fists. He would’ve happily hit Sherman Groto in that moment, yet the retaliation the man would deliver wouldn’t be direct. He might be Groto’s right-hand man, but Bishop knew there was a plethora of security men waiting to fill his shoes. One word and he’d meet the same fate as Iron Fist.

  For the first time in twelve years, he didn’t feel secure in the position he’d worked hard to achieve. The steps he’d built to lift himself out of the poverty he’d lived in during his childhood were threatening to collapse, and all because of a mere slip of a girl who disrupted his equilibrium. The only solution was to forget her, and yet something told him it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  Chapter Eight

  Eva-Ann blew a piece of hair out of her eyes, already tired of the relentless Nevada sun as she walked behind the men heading toward the Recovery mine. Her job was simple: bring water to the men as they dug through the hard bedrock to find silver and gold. The five men in front of her laughed and teased as they approached the adit, or the mine opening. Even her father seemed to be in great spirits since he had smiled at her earlier. In fact, she hadn’t smelled liquor on his breath in the week they’d been in Byron City.

  As they passed the stable, she saw John in the small gated arena he used to exercise the horses, and a warm happiness filled her. They shared multiple glances and shy smiles each day she trudged back and forth, and at night, after she’d done her mending and washing for paid clients, he’d come by and they’d go for a walk around the town perimeter. He rapidly became a very important person, not only as a trusted friend but as a stable factor for her psyche. It would be easy to cross the line of impropriety, living among many hard-shelled mining men, but John reminded her of why it was important to keep her values.

  As if sensing her presence, he looked up and their gazes met. He waved toward her and she waved back, and she felt a blush steal over her cheeks. She always said she’d never fall for a miner, but then, she’d never met a man quite like John. All too soon she passed from his line of sight, heading over a small ridge where the Recovery was located. It was a hard rock mine which meant it took Monty Finleigh and one of the other men, George, about ten hours to carve out the holes in which her father would plant the dynamite so they could blast through more bedrock. The last two men, Carlos and Miguel, were the unlucky ones who got to dig out the gangue and transport it to a trailing dump site just outside the small boundary.

  Day after day, she lugged water from the water hole to the mine, making the complete round about every fifteen to twenty minutes. At noon, she served the men a lunch consisting of bread and some type of stew, typically containing of rabbit, squirrel, or wild sheep. The days kept her so busy that when she went to bed, she immediately fell asleep out of exhaustion. The only pleasure she got was the fact she was able to see John every time she walked by him in her daily journeys.

  As the men prepared to start their work day, a high-pitched squeal had her looking around. Immediately, she spotted a little girl, probably no more than four, chasing after a butterfly. Eva-Ann smiled because even here in the desert there were still patches of beauty every now and again. Just as she was about to turn back to the men, the roll of a wagon caught her attention. The wheels crunched against the packed dirt road as the horse raced, heading right toward the girl.

  “No!” she shouted and took off, running fast.

  It only took a split second of realization to know she wasn’t going to make it. She reached the little girl but could only curl into a ball and wait for the wagon to hit them, praying the girl wouldn’t be hurt too badly. A second later, a heavy force slammed into them and they all flew forward as the wagon rolled by.

  With her heart pumping and fear flowing through her veins, she slowly lifted her head and saw her father lying next to her, panting. He stared at her, a mixture of relief and horror shining in face.

  “Father?”

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “N-no, are you?”

  He shook his head. The little girl hugged her tightly and Eva-Ann hugged her back. It was a miracle they were not only alive but they were unhurt as well.

  “You saved us,” she whispered.

  “I saved you.” He looked at the child. “I never even saw her.”

  “You saved me?”

  “Of course,” he replied gruffly. “You’re my little girl.”

  Those simple words lifted a world of hurt off her heart. Had she misunderstood him all these years? It boggled her mind that she’d misconstrued their entire relationship because although he didn’t say the word
s I love you, the implication lay in that one sentence… You’re my little girl. She placed a hand on his arm and he covered it, squeezing tightly.

  A crowd had gathered, mostly to stop the runaway horse and wagon, but once that had been accomplished the people made their way over to them. Hands reached down, helping them up, all congratulating her father for saving both girls.

  “God bless you, my son,” said the preacher as he patted her father on the back. “That was truly heroic.”

  “Abagail!”

  A man’s panicked scream rent the air and everyone turned toward the sound. Eva-Ann saw a man rushing toward them, and the spectators quickly parted to let him through. When he reached them, he dropped to his knees beside her and pulled the little girl into his arms. As the people whispered around them, she caught the name Jedidiah Byron, and she realized this man was the founder of the town and owner of the mining claims.

  “Daddy?”

  “Oh God,” he said, choked up. “I turned around for a second. A second! What happened?”

  “It was the hand of God who reached down to bless this man to save her, Mr. Byron,” the preacher said, pointing to her father. “He ran on feet with wings, reaching the two girls right before disaster. A miracle, I say.”

  A murmur swept through the crowd and everyone nodded, agreeing with the preacher. Jedidiah pulled back from little Abagail and wiped his eyes. He held out his hand to her father.

  “Jedidiah Byron,” he said. “This is my daughter, Abagail.”

  Looking a little uneasy, her father slowly extended his own hand to shake. “Clyde Dunclyne. And this is my daughter, Eva-Ann.”

  Jedidiah Byron tipped his head in her direction before standing and picking up his daughter to hold her in his arms. Abagail immediately put her head on his shoulder.

  “Words cannot express my gratitude.” Byron gestured toward the south were the majority of the mines rested. “All the wealth in the world could never replace my child. Anything you want, Mr. Dunclyne, it’s yours.”

  Her father looked around at all the expectant faces, unease evident on his face. “I just wanna work.”

  Byron didn’t say anything, obviously waiting for her father to finish, but her father had always been a man of few words.

  “Then work you shall,” Byron said. “Which mine do you operate in?”

  “The Recovery.”

  “It’s yours.”

  The crowd gasped. Eva-Ann felt her jaw drop.

  “What?” Clyde asked, looking flummoxed.

  “The Recovery is yours. You saved my daughter. I happily give you the claim.”

  “What the hell?” demanded Monty in a low voice. Eva-Ann glanced at him and saw anger boiling on the man’s face. “I leased that mine!”

  Jedidiah nodded. “I’m sure Mr. Dunclyne will honor our original agreement. Simply pay him as you would’ve paid me.”

  “I, ah, I don’t know what to say,” her father mumbled.

  Jedidiah held out his hand and after a heartbeat, her father shook it.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Dunclyne, you’ve already expressed your thanks.” He smiled and hurried away, holding his daughter close.

  Once he was gone, the crowd pressed in on them, patting her father on the back and shaking his hand, whether or not he wanted to. Eva-Ann was still in shock, watching him with bemusement until a hand on her arm had her turning around. John was there, and overwhelmed, she rushed into arms to hug him.

  “Oh my God, Eva-Ann,” he said in her ear. “I’ve never seen anything like that. I thought, well, I thought you were gonna be crushed.”

  “Me too,” she whispered. “I was so scared.”

  “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met,” he replied.

  They parted only enough to look at one another. She had the urge to kiss him and raised up, planning to do just that, when she was jostled. John pulled back, blinking, and the present situation rushed back to her.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling a blush hit her face.

  “Is it still okay to come by tonight, Eva-Ann?” he asked. “I have this need to hold you and thank the Almighty that you’re still with me.”

  “Yes, please. I’d like that.”

  He smiled. “Then I’ll see you just after supper.”

  As he walked back toward the stables, Eva-Ann happened to glance over at Monty, who glared at her father’s back. If looks could kill, Clyde Dunclyne would be six feet under.

  ****

  Evie fluttered her eyes as the annoying tug of wakefulness took root. She stretched and stared up at the ceiling as she came fully awake. The low light sneaking around the window blinds couldn’t tell her what time of day it was, but she really didn’t care. All she wanted to do was fall back to sleep because she was so close to the ending. So close to finding out what had happened because Monty Finleigh had been a serious threat to Eva-Ann and her future.

  She pushed the covers off and swung her legs to the floor, only seeing the plate of cookies resting on the kitchen chair when she stood up. Several folded pieces of paper lay next to the stack of sugary goodness. As she read Chris’s note, she chowed down on a cookie.

  Gone to work. Be home late. Blah, blah, blah.

  The two pages attached were printouts from a website about the historical Byron City, located north and slightly west of Las Vegas. It detailed the history, one she already knew, but there wasn’t anything to collaborate her dreams. No John, no Eva-Ann, and nothing about the mines. Either her brother didn’t dig deep enough or he simply didn’t care. She crumpled the papers up and tossed them into her trash can before heading toward the bathroom to retrieve more of her sleeping pills. Only when she lifted the toilet tank lid, the pills weren’t there. Confused, she looked around, thinking she might have dropped the baggie, but they simply weren’t anywhere. Going back into the bedroom, she checked between her mattress and box spring, but couldn’t find any medication. Anxiety rose as she hurried to her closet, digging in her shoes for the backup pills.

  Nothing.

  Evie looked around the room, panicked at the thought that her medicine was gone. Her gaze landed on the cookies and she knew immediately that Chris must have investigated her room while she was sleeping and discovered where she hid her pills. Dread had her rushing from her bedroom, not caring at all that she was still wearing the same clothes as earlier. She hadn’t brushed her hair or her teeth. The only thing she cared about right then was confronting her brother and getting her pills back. And if she couldn’t do that, her next step was to contact her supplier, although she didn’t have that much money.

  Evie ran outside and came to an immediate halt as sanity hit her between the eyes. Heat still radiated from the concrete sidewalk, burning her soles, causing her to glance down at her bare feet. She looked at the driveway, but the car wasn’t there. Finally, she glanced upward and realized the sun was heading toward the west.

  She went back inside the house and slowly closed the door before heading back into her bathroom. Ignoring the slight tremor in her hand, she took a shower, washed her hair, and even shaved her legs. She brushed her teeth and used mouthwash to get rid of the lingering sour taste left over from sleeping. Feeling a bit more human, she called a cab, collected her wallet, and waited.

  Chapter Nine

  “Are you sure you don’t want me with you?” Bishop asked Groto as the elevator rose to the roof where the helicopter waited for his boss.

  “No,” Groto said stiffly. “Perhaps you should take this opportunity to consider your loyalty within my corporation.”

  Bishop drew his brows together, a little taken aback by Groto’s words. “My loyalty? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I think you know.”

  “Is this about Evelyn Duncan?” Bishop was getting madder by the second. “You think that girl is going to undo everything I’ve busted my ass to achieve?”

  “Men have been known to do more for less.”

  Bishop shook his head. “I don’t believe you doubt
me because you saw I kissed her. She means nothing.”

  “She means something!” Groto snapped. “You forget that I saw your reaction to her that first night. I saw the world fade away for you. I faded away. I can’t have someone guarding me who won’t throw himself in front of a bullet to save my life.”

  Bishop didn’t know what to say in response to that. Evelyn had managed to cause a small crack between him and the man who had saved his life twelve years ago when he’d taken the angry teenager under his wing, and he didn’t know how to repair the damage.

  “You can’t go to Carson City alone.”

  “I’m not,” Groto replied. The elevator came to a stop and the door slid open. The helicopter waited for Groto, the blades spinning slowly. He nodded to someone and when Bishop followed his line of sight, he saw Santiago.

  “You’re taking him?”

  “Who I’m taking is irrelevant.” He hurried forward and Santiago met them halfway. The backup bodyguard gave Bishop a smug smirk. “After all, it’s just a political dinner, Mr. Kain, to remind those fat bastards in office who greases their hands. While I’m gone, I want you to contact Blackout’s sponsor and find out about his next fight.”

  “Do you have anyone in mind to replace Iron Fist?”

  Groto gave him a speculative glance. “I don’t suppose you want to go back into the ring?”

  There was no way Bishop would climb back into the ring and be at the mercy of Sherman Groto if he should lose. “You and I both know I’m too old. I wouldn’t win and you’d lose money.”

  “Then go to some of the gyms and look over the younger stock,” Groto muttered. “See if someone jumps out as a potential fighter.”

  “All right.”

  “And remember, you’ll be training him.”

  Bishop realized this was the moment when he passed the baton, much like Masters had when he started training Bishop twelve years earlier. He’d tried hard not to think of Masters over the years, but dying from a self-inflicted gunshot wound had always been tough to swallow. He kept his outward appearance as stoic as possible even though he knew the threads between him and Groto were unraveling fast.