Bishop's Knight

  Bishop’s Knight

  Endgame trilogy

  Katie Reus

  Bishop’s Knight

  Copyright © 2019 Katie Reus

  Cover art by Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs

  Editor: Julia Ganis

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the right to resell, distribute, print or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload this book to a file sharing program. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  ISBN: 9781635561081

  Table of Contents

  BISHOP’S KNIGHT

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Thank You for Reading!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Complete Booklist

  The Bishop siblings’ family is on the verge of collapse as all three find themselves embroiled in danger. Family bonds may keep them alive…but only love can give them something to live for. Read BISHOP’S KNIGHT, the first novel in this ALL NEW heart-pounding Endgame trilogy!

  She needs his help…

  Thanks to years of government training, Evie Bishop knows how to get into places she doesn’t belong—and she’s very good at it. But years of doing black ops work burned her out so she returns home—to unexpected chaos. One of her brothers is in a coma and the other is in hiding, wanted for murder. Then a fellow operative from her past shows up shot and bleeding with news that an assassin is gunning for everyone involved with a past op. She’s forced to turn to the one man she knows she can trust—the man whose heart she broke.

  But it will come with a price…

  When Dylan Blackwood proposed a year ago, Evie turned him down flat and walked out of his life. He’s stunned when he finds her on his doorstep covered in someone else’s blood, needing his help. He always knew there was more to her than met the eye—that Evie was never simply the pampered society princess she wanted people to believe she was. But he never expected this. If she needs help, he’ll give it. Even if he can’t forget her betrayal. Even if he isn’t sure he can trust her. But his protection will come with a price—her heart. Before they can have a chance at a future, they’ll have to work together to take down a faceless enemy who has Evie firmly in his crosshairs.

  Dedication

  For Kaylea Cross (again). Here’s to yet another book you helped me plot during our trip to New Orleans. Thank you.

  Prologue

  Fifteen months ago

  Evie slowly circulated around the dimly lit bar, adrenaline pumping through her. Tonight was the night her special ops CIA team ended their three-month operation. Yerik Morozov, the man her team was looking for, was supposed to be at this club for his birthday.

  Morozov ran the Morozov mafia in a midsized Russian-Ukraine border town. He’d taken over the organization from his father—who had been brutal, but much smarter than his son.

  Evie’s team was here to take him out. He’d started selling weapons to an Iranian terrorist group. He hadn’t even been on the CIA’s radar before, but now he was a problem and they were going to take him out before his group and reach grew too powerful to squash.

  She and Samara—wearing disguises and using aliases—had been coming to this club for the last two weeks, drinking, dancing, partying it up, flirting with low-level Morozov thugs. She was posing as a rich socialite from another province, and Samara was also a rich socialite from Australia here visiting.

  Tonight she wore the same wig she’d been donning the last couple weeks—a waterfall of platinum blonde hair falling down to her butt—bright green contacts, and her cheeks were fuller thanks to subtle stage makeup. She preferred blonde wigs because they were such a contrast to her real jet-black hair but still went well with her coloring.

  As she reached the bar, a regular who did low-level grunt work for the Morozov family smiled at her. “Lena,” he said, clearly pleased to see her.

  She smiled before pouting ever so subtly and answering in Russian. “Maxim, tell me I’m not going to have to buy my own drinks tonight.”

  His gaze fell to her glossy, red-slicked lips before he motioned to the bartender.

  “I can’t believe my gender,” her team leader, Luca, said through her earpiece, his tone disgusted. “So pathetic.”

  Samara snickered in agreement over the comm line but Evie kept her smile in place, nodding politely at the bartender who placed a glass tumbler in front of her. The bartender—Arman—worked for the Morozov crew against his will. He loathed them since they’d kidnapped his cousin and forced her to work in one of their brothels. Now Arman had to pay them “protection money.” Turning him hadn’t been hard. He was risking everything to help them out and she was going to make sure he got out of here alive.

  As Maxim started talking to the bartender, Evie reached into her envelope clutch and pulled out a small, circular incendiary device, quickly securing it to the bottom of the bar.

  Samara was doing the same on one of the other bars across the expansive dance floor. Even though they’d been coming in here for weeks, they had come in separately, not as friends. They’d talked before, under the guise of polite chitchat when at the same table with any of the Morozov thugs, but they didn’t associate with each other outside this club.

  Everyone on this op had a role to play and she was ready to do her part. Ready to kill Yerik Morozov.

  The leader for this op was Luca Ramos, though he was actually in play, not in the operation van two blocks away with Ben and Seamus. Ben loved his role in the command center, but Seamus was pissed that he’d been sidelined for this op. Since he’d tangled with one of Morozov’s recently promoted lieutenants, they couldn’t risk him blowing their cover.

  As Maxim blew cigarette smoke in her direction, she subtly waved it away.

  “So what’s it going to take to get you to go out with me?” He played his fingers up her bare arm, but not any farther than her elbow thankfully.

  She lifted an eyebrow, challenging him. “You’ve still got to impress me.” Grinning, she took a sip of the drink, swallowing most of it down in two gulps. She was very good at playing the tipsy party girl. Thanks to Arman’s sleight of hand, it was soda water with lime on the side, not vodka and tonic.

  “He’s here,” Samara said into her earpiece. “Target in my sight.”

  Hell yeah. It was go
time. “How about you take me out tomorrow in that car you keep bragging about?” Evie asked as she slid off her barstool, walking her fingers up his chest.

  Maxim straightened and nodded. “Where should I pick you up?”

  “I’ll text you later. I see someone I know.” She blew him an air kiss as she stepped away, sure he was watching her ass while she walked.

  The loud music—some kind of techno crap—thumped around them. Purple and blue lights flashed in beat with the music, giving her a low-grade headache. She reminded herself why she loved her job, that she was making a difference by ridding the world of people who wanted to see it burn.

  Swaying with the music, Evie smoothly shifted through a group of dancing women, only making brief eye contact with Samara and a local woman, Daria, who they’d also recruited. Daria was a waitress at the club and had lost a sister to this group. She was more than willing to help out even though she was risking her life the same as Arman.

  Even though the Morozov mafia’s reach was hurting Evie’s own country, hurting many innocent people around the globe, she wanted to destroy them for the way they’d hurt this town alone. They were leeches, sucking out the life force of everything around them. And Morozov was from here, hurting his own people. It was revolting.

  Daria approached, wearing a teeny blue sparkly dress and carrying a tray of shots. “He’s got two of his lieutenants with him. Seven men total, all armed. Ivan is in there.” She dropped the information so smoothly, dancing to the music and carrying the tray without spilling anything. “This one,” she said pushing one of the shots out.

  Evie took the shot of water and tossed it back. Then she dropped a bill on the tray. “Thank you. Make sure you’ve exited out the back in the next ten minutes.”

  Daria nodded and made her way across the dance floor, offering up shots as Evie crossed to the roped-off VIP section. She lifted an eyebrow as the beefy security guy eyed her, not removing the rope. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest, watching her with cold blue eyes. He’d asked her out weeks ago and she’d turned him down flat.

  Before she could snap something haughty at him, Ivan—a man she’d been flirting with the last couple weeks—called out an order to let her through.

  She sniffed in annoyance and flipped her hair over her shoulder as he lifted the rope. Samara and a few other club girls were right behind her, but she didn’t look in her teammates’ direction.

  “Lena.” Ivan, an affable guy—for a gangster—waved her over from his seat around a circular table with others she recognized. Including Yerik Morozov.

  Ivan was much higher up the food chain than Maxim—who wasn’t even allowed past the velvet rope. Ivan was a special kind of garbage. He ran two of the local brothels, though you’d never know it from his charm and attitude. But she’d seen the pictures of what he’d done to some of the women who’d tried to run away. And Evie was going to make sure he died too. It wasn’t part of the op, but it was necessary.

  She smiled widely as he pulled her into his lap, all the while fighting the instinctive cringe at having his arms wrapped around her.

  He turned to Yerik. “This is the girl I was telling you about. She is beautiful, yes?”

  Yerik looked her up and down, nodding as if he was inspecting a piece of meat, before he turned away from her. She was a little older than he liked—in her late twenties. His gaze narrowed on Samara with interest as she approached the table with a few of the other girls, most of whom were here of their own accord.

  Evie patted Ivan’s face gently, making him laugh lightly. “We need vodka.”

  “Grab us a tray of drinks!” he ordered one of the security guys.

  “Get ready,” Luca said in her ear. “As soon as he drinks, start moving toward the exit.”

  Evie knew what to do. So did Samara. But Luca was a steady presence in her ear, reminding her that he, Ben and Seamus had their backs if things went haywire. They’d worked a number of ops together and she respected all of them.

  This was all part of their plan. “So what are we celebrating tonight?” She indicated the two empty bottles of champagne on the table as the security guy returned with a tray of vodka shots. She knew exactly which shot Yerik needed to drink.

  Her heart rate increased. This was it.

  “It is my boss’s birthday,” Ivan said, motioning to Yerik.

  “Oh, birthday boy.” Smiling, she picked up two shot glasses, one for herself and one for the man who needed to die. “I’ll drink to that.”

  As Yerik took the shot glass, he looked at her, amusement glinting in his pale, calculating eyes—probably thinking about how much money he could make off her if he put her to work in one of his brothels. The custom-made suit and expensive Italian shoes couldn’t hide what kind of scum he was. “I would like more than just a drink.”

  “If you’re a good boy, I’ll dance for you.” She wiggled against Ivan’s lap, making him laugh uproariously, even as she clinked her shot glass to Yerik’s. “To the birthday boy.” Then she tossed her shot back, praying he did the same. His security had proved to be decent, making poison the best way to get to him. In the time she’d been coming here, no one had thought to check drinks—likely because they trusted that the owner was too afraid of them. And she was a silly woman after all; she doubted they would suspect her.

  Yerik tossed his back as well and all his men did the same, toasting his birthday. He was all about excess in everything. Drinks, women, drugs. And he was about to die at the age of thirty-nine. Good riddance.

  He patted his knee. “Where is my dance?”

  She playfully kissed Ivan once on the cheek before standing, ready to straddle this piece of garbage and dance for him for as long as she had to. But he started choking on air.

  Yes.

  Yerik grasped at his throat, clawing at the invisible fingers choking the life out of him. “Can’t…breathe…”

  Ivan practically shoved her out of the way as he and the others closed in on Yerik.

  Evie slowly moved toward the exit with Samara as panic in the little VIP area spread.

  “Oh my God!” one of the women cried, stumbling in her stilettos. “Is he dead?”

  “Poison,” Ivan snapped out, rage in his voice as Yerik started foaming at the mouth.

  A thick, meaty hand wrapped around Evie’s upper arm as she reached the roped-off exit.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” the thug snapped at her, digging his fingers into her arm.

  “Get out of there,” Luca said in her earpiece. “Now!”

  “You don’t have to be so rough!” she snapped, giving a weak pull against him.

  “Her! She gave him the shot.” One of the men pointed at her, shoving the table out of the way as he barreled toward her.

  Evie looked around in confusion, acting as if she was surprised by their anger.

  Next to her Samara slid her hand into her clutch and—boom!

  An explosion ripped through the air as one of the incendiary devices exploded.

  The man’s grip on her loosened. Evie was ready for it, already jumping into action. She reared back with her elbow, slamming it into the guard’s face even as she shoved past him, sprinting with Samara toward the crowd of running people.

  This wasn’t exactly how tonight was supposed to go—they were supposed to have been out of the VIP section before shit blew up. It would have been a hell of a lot easier to blend in that way. But this was doable. Heart racing, she and Samara shoved people out of the way, trying to blend in.

  A hail of bullets exploded from the VIP section. Glass shattered above them as the lights were destroyed. People screamed in horror.

  Evie reached into her own purse and set off another device. These wouldn’t hurt anyone, simply create smoke and chaos. Something in abundance right now, but more would definitely help.

  There were too many people, the panic too much, the crowd too thick as everyone ran for the main exit.

  “Behind the bar!” Evie shouted over the
din of gunfire and screams.

  The flashing lights and music continued thumping as she veered off from the crowd.

  Evie ran in her kitten heels, grasping the front of the metal bar top and propelling herself over it like a hurdle. She rolled into the back of the bar, grunting from the impact, but ignored the flash of pain.

  Samara tumbled down beside her, expression tense as they both reached for the weapons strapped underneath the interior of the bar. Arman was hopefully long gone, but he’d come through with the backup.

  She pulled out two pistols as Samara did the same.

  Bottles exploded above them, bits of glass falling into her blonde wig.

  “You guys hit?” Luca shouted through the earpiece.

  “We’re good,” Samara answered.

  “Get ready to run.”

  “Meet at the rally point,” Ben said. “We’re already en route. We’ll pick you guys up.”

  Evie nodded, though no one could see her. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to move from her cover and return fire as Luca counted down. “Three, two, go!”

  Two simultaneous explosions ripped through the air.

  Evie and Samara jumped up at the same time, weapons raised.

  Evie pulled the trigger, firing at the nearest target. A hole had been blasted through the opposite bar as well as the roof above the VIP section.