Bishop's Queen

  Bishop’s Queen

  Endgame trilogy

  Katie Reus

  Bishop’s Queen

  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: 9781635561050

  Table of Contents

  BISHOP’S QUEEN

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Thank You for Reading!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Complete Booklist

  Return to the Endgame trilogy where blood is thick, but passion is thicker…

  He doesn’t believe in fairy-tale endings…

  They used to call Evan Bishop the golden boy. He had it all and was about to close the business deal of a lifetime, then marry the woman of his dreams. But everything goes to hell when a faceless enemy wants to destroy his family’s empire and see him dead. Except the bomb meant to kill him fails. He wakes up from a coma to find his face scarred and his brother missing and wanted for murder. Now that he’s damaged, he hides away from the world—including the woman he loves. He refuses to be a burden to her, so even though it destroys him, he sets her free.

  She’s about to prove him wrong…

  Isla MacDonald isn’t walking away from Evan just because he’s decided to shut her out of his life. He blames himself for the bombing that got her father killed and nearly killed him—but he’s wrong. After all attempts to see him fail, with a broken heart she tries to resume her life and take over her father’s firm. Though it’s not her dream, she wants to honor his legacy and finish the deal that will save thousands of jobs. But when someone tries to kill her—twice—she needs a bodyguard. To her surprise Evan steps up and insists on protecting her, putting on a show as the caring fiancé. But he won’t let her back into his life or into his heart. To have any chance at a future together, they’ll have to resurrect the past and stay alive long enough to expose the man determined to see them both dead.

  Dedication

  For Kaylea Cross, who is more like a sister than a friend.

  Chapter 1

  Exhausted, Isla stepped into a local Miami restaurant owned by Viktor Ivanov, smiling politely at the maître d’ as she shed her coat. The restaurant was inside a posh hotel so it was a mix of locals and tourists. “I believe my party is already here, Geno Conti.”

  “Of course, Ms. McDonald, this way.”

  As she followed after him, she gave a real smile, surprised to see Dominique Ivanov out with her husband, Viktor. The two people couldn’t be more opposite, with Dominique a bright ray of sunshine, and definitely glowing now that she was pregnant.

  As she stopped at the table, the maître d’ stood off to the side, politely waiting for her as she hugged her friend.

  “You’re probably the most adorable pregnant woman I’ve ever seen. You’re completely glowing.” She was all belly and cuteness.

  “This is true,” Viktor said, also standing and giving her one of his rare smiles and a half hug.

  For some reason Viktor had always been incredibly kind and warm with Isla. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was friends with Dominique, because he had a ruthless reputation with people who crossed him. Thankfully she’d never seen that side of him.

  “You have to say that,” Dominique said, grinning at her husband.

  As Isla watched the two of them, an ache settled in her chest. Two months ago, she’d been in what she’d thought was the perfect relationship. She’d been so secure in what she’d had. But the bombing had changed everything. Her father was dead, and while her fiancé was alive, he might as well have died too. He’d coldly cut her out of his life as if she didn’t exist after he’d been injured in the explosion. No amount of trying to see him had worked either.

  And she had tried hard.

  Even now, as she tried to work with his company on finishing the deal her father and Evan had started, she only dealt with Evan’s assistant because he would not see her. It was so cruel, so unlike the man she’d loved.

  It was as if she’d lost a limb, a part of herself. And she could admit that she was still floundering, trying to get used to this new reality two months later. Now she pasted on a smile for the world, refusing to let anyone see her pain. She was used to it. As the daughter of a highly functioning alcoholic, she knew how to put on her best smile and fake it.

  “What are you doing here?” Dominique asked. “I mean, obviously you’re here for dinner, but who are you meeting? Evan?” she asked hopefully.

  The smile froze on her face. So much for faking it. “Ah…no.”

  Dominique blinked in surprise. “I…I saw him here earlier and I thought maybe you two…”

  “Oh, no. I’m just here for business,” she continued, not wanting to talk about Evan, and glad she hadn’t bumped into him here. That would have been like taking a dagger to the heart.

  “Well expect an invitation soon to a shower for this little guy.” Dominique quickly changed the subject, thankfully.

  “I will. I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Thank you for waiting,” she said to the maître d’, who was still patiently standing there. He smiled politely and led her to a table in the back.

  Geno Conti stood when he saw her, and went to pull her chair out but she waved him away. This was business, not a personal date.

  As she set her purse and attaché case down, she ordered a sparkling water, putting Evan from her mind. “Sorry I’m running late. A meeting ran over.”

  “It’s no problem, I know how it is. You don’t want anything stronger than water?”

  She shook her head. “I’m good.” On occasion she drank—she made an exception for really good champagne—but she abstained at work functions. And she was always careful not to drink too much. It was just one of those things because of how she’d grown up. Her mother used to stash bottles—usually of vodka, because it was easie
r to hide the smell—all over the house to hide them from her father, sometimes in Isla’s own room. But she shook the unhappy thought off.

  “So, let’s get started,” she said, smiling at the man across from her. Her father had started a big business deal with Geno before he’d been killed, and Isla hoped to complete it.

  There were a few different deals she was trying to close before she stepped back from the company. Her father’s dream had never been her dream, but she would honor his legacy by taking care of the deals that had meant the most to him. Especially since they would be creating thousands of jobs as well. But once the deals were complete, she was letting people much more motivated than her take over. Unfortunately the process was taking longer than she had anticipated. Before the bombing she’d been a project manager in charge of various construction deals, and she’d been happy enough. Now, she ran the whole company and it was draining her soul.

  “I’m ready if you are,” he said, smiling in that charming way of his. With dark hair, dark eyes, a sharp jawline and a perfect olive complexion, he was definitely easy on the eyes.

  Geno was always in the tabloids—being linked to various women, and never the same one twice. At first she’d been wary of doing business with him, but he had been nothing but professional, which was a relief. Especially since it wasn’t always that way with the men she dealt with. While her father was alive and when she’d been linked to Evan Bishop, she’d been treated differently. She could see the stark difference and it was eye-opening. Not that she needed a male protector, but apparently she was seen as fair game to some people now. While it was revolting, it had helped her to weed out some people she’d been considering for senior management positions.

  Banishing those thoughts, she leaned down and pulled out her tablet. She was glad they were in the back where they could get some business out of the way. She wished they’d been able to meet during normal hours, but between the two of them, they hadn’t been able to carve out any free time. Even with Geno’s playboy reputation, he was incredibly driven.

  “I can think of worse ways to spend a Thursday night,” Geno said two hours later as he pushed his after-dinner coffee to the side.

  She smiled, laughing slightly. “Agreed.” They’d gone over everything they needed to and they were on the same page. “So tomorrow night, you and me, the Sanderson gala. We’ll corner Rodriguez and see if we can lock this thing down.”

  “Works for me.”

  At that moment, the maître d’ stopped at their table. “Mr. Ivanov wanted me to let you know that dinner is on the house.”

  “Oh no, that’s not necessary. Just charge it to my business account,” Isla said.

  He shook his head. “Mr. Ivanov’s orders.”

  At that moment she knew it was pointless to argue. “Please thank him for me, then.” She planned to tell him that herself on the way out if he was still here.

  He nodded politely and then left as quietly as he’d arrived.

  “I didn’t realize you knew Ivanov.” Geno’s surprise was clear.

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m friends with his wife.”

  “Ah. I hear they’re expecting.”

  “Yes, I’m very happy for both of them… Well, I guess we’re done here. I can meet you at the gala or at my office at the end of the day. I won’t be going home first.”

  He set his napkin on the table. “I’ll pick you up at work.”

  Standing, she gathered her things. “Sounds good.” This deal was so close to being complete she could almost taste it. You’re almost there, she reminded herself. She simply needed all this stuff behind her so she could find her own two feet and make a life for herself—not live a dream that had been her father’s. She’d already had one foot out the door of the business before her father had died. But now? She felt stuck.

  When Geno was stopped by an associate of his, she made a quick escape, glad to be able to get out of there and head home. Lately she felt as if she was on autopilot, and it wasn’t a mystery as to why. She missed Evan. Deeply. Without him in her life, everything felt empty.

  Ugh. She had to stop thinking about him.

  As Isla waited at the valet, she checked her cell phone, not surprised to see multiple texts from her mother, texts from work, and a handful from a few friends. However, she was surprised to see one from Evie Bishop—Evan’s younger sister. A cool breeze reminding her that fall was moving in fast this year rolled over her as she pulled up Evie’s text message first.

  I’m going to the gala tomorrow, will I see you there?

  Of course Evie would be there. She was a Bishop, and now that she had moved back to town she went to plenty of events with her new husband, Dylan Blackwood. The man owned half the city. Sometimes Isla felt a little odd staying in touch with Evie since they’d almost become sisters-in-law, but Evie had made it clear she thought Evan was a dumbass for his behavior. Something she’d told Isla on multiple occasions.

  I’ll be there for work, she texted back. And I know you’re going only under duress, she added. Because Evie hated these kinds of things.

  Evie responded with a bunch of laughing emojis and #truth, which just made Isla laugh.

  As she started to scan the rest of her messages, an SUV with dark-tinted windows jerked to a halt underneath the overhang. One of the valet drivers stepped out from behind the stand where he was talking with a coworker when the door to the SUV flew open and a masked man jumped out.

  Her heart jumped in her throat as the guy lunged for her, ripping her attaché case from her hand.

  Screaming, she swung out with her bag, barely grazing his shoulder. She saw the fist coming and ducked, but he slammed into her, sending her flying backward.

  Her heel caught on a stone, snapping as she rolled her ankle and landed on her butt.

  “Hey!” Multiple male voices shouted, their footsteps pounding as they came running.

  But her attacker had already jumped back into the vehicle. Tires squealed as he tore off into the night.

  She’d barely pushed upright when a man wearing a valet uniform was crouching in front of her. His eyes were wide as he held out a hand to her. “Are you okay?”

  Behind him, another employee was already talking into a phone, with what sounded like the police.

  Trembling, she nodded and winced as she stood. She’d landed on her butt hard. “He took my bag.”

  “The police will be on their way soon,” he said. “Why don’t you step inside the hotel? We’ve got a private place you can sit.”

  Still shaking, she nodded and followed after him. Everything had happened so fast, she hadn’t been ready for it. But who was actually ready to be mugged? She was just glad that she had taken her laptop out earlier. There had been some paperwork in there but nothing confidential. Just little notes she’d made.

  For the briefest moment, she had the urge to call Evan. It would be pointless of course, but she’d gotten so used to him having her back.

  Not tonight. Never again.

  Chapter 2

  Evan stripped off his boxing gloves and tossed them onto the workbench in his private gym. He owned the penthouse of a Miami condo downtown and he’d had a personal gym built in it, even before his accident.

  Before the bombing had blown everything to hell.

  Now he was grateful for it. He didn’t have to deal with people staring at him if he wanted to work out without a shirt on.

  The blast had scorched his neck, down his right arm and part of his chest. His scars looked like a mashing of red, twisting ropes, creating a macabre display all over his right side. Part of his face had suffered as well, but he’d since grown a beard and it covered most of his face. According to his mother, he was trying to hide away from the world and the beard was a big fat symbol of that.

  She was probably right. No, she was definitely right. But he didn’t care.

  He grabbed a towel and glanced at his cell phone. He was surprised to see a call from Viktor Ivanov. They’d done some deals together,
but before seven in the morning was fairly early to be calling and they didn’t have a current project in the works. And they weren’t friends. Curious, he called back.

  “Bishop,” Ivanov said upon greeting. “Thank you for returning my call.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I do not know. Your fiancée— Ah, former fiancée, was at my restaurant last night. She was mugged when leaving. It was done very quickly, professionally. They took her work briefcase.”

  Shock punched through him. “Is Isla okay?” he rasped out. If this had happened two months ago, he would’ve already known. She would have woken up in bed with him this morning.

  “I believe she is fine. A little sore and maybe bruised. The man pushed her down but that was the basic extent of it.”

  Evan sucked in a sharp breath. Someone had laid hands on Isla? A murderous rage popped through him, sharp and violent in its intensity, knocking him off-kilter.

  “I have watched the video footage, and he grazed her shoulder because she was quick-thinking enough to move back. I don’t like that this happened on my property, however. I don’t like that it happened at all, especially to someone as sweet as her. I know you two are not… Ah—” Ivanov cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anyway, Dominique thought I should tell you, regardless.”