Needing to take my mind out of Bishop and his sexcapades, I pulled my phone out and opened Spotify. Grabbing my ear pods out of my pocket, I untangled them and put them into my ear. The plane began speeding down the runway and I watched as the asphalt slowly started to disappear, and all that was in view was the thick clouds and the sinking city. One of my ear pods getting pulled out of my ear snapped me out of my daydream and Bishop took my phone from me.
“Listen to this song...” Out of any other guy’s mouth, that would be cheesy, but this was Bishop. He wasn’t cheesy. He wasn’t a broken ass loved-up fool. He was just Bishop. Once you knew him, his name alone was like warm, rich hot chocolate sliding down your throat on a snowy winter’s day. With added whiskey…
“Sure.” I smiled at him. He started flicking through my music, and then he pushed play on a song that had an electric guitar opening it. A guy’s smooth voice filled my ears. By the time the hook came in, I had goosebumps breaking out over my skin. The lyrics, the electric sound, the fact that this song meant something to Bishop. I was about to choke on the rock of emotion that had appeared in my throat.
“What’s the song called?” I managed to choke out.
His eyes searched mine. “’Torn to Pieces’ by Pop Evil.”
“I love it.” A small smile slid over my mouth, and I took the phone from him, opening a new playlist on Spotify. I thought about it quickly and then smiled while typing out “Madship’s Playlist” I began adding all the songs that we had listened to previously into the playlist. One of them caught my attention.
“This song is one of my favorites.” I pushed play on “I’m Ready” by Nikye Heaton.
He chuckled. “Yeah, you do love this song, huh.” He took my phone back and flicked through.
“I do,” I nodded. “It resonates with me on a deep level when it comes to us, I guess.”
His finger paused for a second, his eyes flicking to me briefly before he continued to scroll through.
The song finished and then Bullet for my Valentine “Your Betrayal” started playing. I giggle-snorted—straight ugly snorted—when I heard it.
“That day at the lake?” I smirked, my eyes coming to his.
“You remembered?”
“Your face was buried between my thighs while our friends were doing backflips off rocks in the water fifty meters away from us—yes, I remember. I remember this song was playing from Nate’s sound dock.” My eyes glassed over from the memories. “God, it feels like so long ago. Put that in our playlist.” He does something on my phone, and then pulled out his. He started fiddling around with both phones and then tucked his away.
“I joined our playlist to both our accounts. Now we can both add songs to it for the other to listen to.”
The gesture may have sounded normal to most people, but again, this was Bishop, and I’m still warming up to this side of him. The caring side. Receiving love from someone who spent so much time hating you gives you a euphoric high that no drug could ever give you. It was intoxicating, deadly, and completely addictive. I took my phone since he could now use his, then pushed play on “Stupid Love” from Jason Derulo.
“Really?” he deadpanned.
I shrugged, sliding the song to our playlist. “It came on when we were on our way to the airport to fly to New Zealand. It connected with me around that time so it’s going in.”
His eyes narrowed.
I narrowed mine back.
“You wanna play? Okay, let’s play.”
“What are you, Tony Montana,” I teased, and watched as his thumb shuffled through the songs on his phone. “Killpop” from Slipknot started playing.
I tried listening to the lyrics, even though I was acquainted with the song.
“Isn’t this about a drug dealer who falls in love with his junkie?” I raised my eyebrow at him.
A beat passed, and then he slowly raised his eyebrows. Realization sunk in pretty quickly once I had just choked on my own words. “Oh, well, then, it’s perfect.”
“Hey.” He tilted my head to face him. “This shit with you and I, it’s always been messy, fucking chaotic, but that’s just us. Don’t resent that, baby.”
“I’d never.” I shook my head. Halestorm “I’m no Angel” started playing next, and I leaned my head on Bishop’s shoulder. His arm came up again, pulling me into his side so my face smashed into him. I loved his scent. I wished I could bottle it up and carry it around with me. Leather, soap, man, and mint. “I’ve been through a lot of traumatic things in my life, as you know, and up until the point I met you, I would have given anything and everything to change my past. But, if I had to go through all those things to meet you, then I wouldn’t change a thing. You’re well worth it, Bishop.”
He was silent, so I figured he may not have heard me, and before I knew it, my eyes closed and I fell into a deep sleep.
“Baby, wake up.”
My eyes popped open and I stretched my arms wide. “Are we there?”
“Yeah.” He stood, tugging me to my feet. Nate had Tate huddled in his arms, her head in his neck. What the actual fuck. Those two confuse me like no other. Bishop must see my puzzlement.
“She was asleep. Don’t think into it.” As they disappeared out the door, I stepped aside to let Jase and Saint pass.
“Are you trying to convince me that he doesn’t care?”
Bishop took my hand and led me down the walkway. “I didn’t say that he didn’t care—just not enough…”
I rubbed the palm of my hand into my eye, feeling almost defeated by his words. “You boys.”
“Not me. They, and I, always knew with you. Nate, and us, and you, know that’s not the case with Tatum.”
I sighed, then started shuffling out of the plane. “I guess. I just wish she didn’t need to get hurt.” Once we come to the door, I sucked in a breath. “What is this place?” The airstrip was lined with dark bushes and tall accent stone statues, carved with thick patterns shaping weird faces and moss spilling out from the cracks. The air smelled of tropical leaves with a slight spritz of saltwater. I cranked my head to find any sign of life.
“Where’s the airport?”
Bishop snorted, taking my hand and leading me down the stairs. “You won’t find an airport here, Kitty.” I stayed quiet, unsure what to say. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. I expected more life. There were three white Mercedes trucks waiting for us that were square in shape and resembled military tanks. I faltered, and just as Tatum was about to slide into one of them with Nate’s hand on her lower back, she sent me a playful wink. I smiled at her reassuringly, but I wasn’t so sure. I felt like a fraud giving her that smile, but there was only so much people could do to help someone before it became too exhausting. Bishop started to lead us toward the truck at the front of the other two and pointed to the passenger door.
“Get in and put your belt on.”
I followed orders, opening the door and quickly clicking my belt on. I felt a sense of urgency rush through me. Like we were on borrowed time. The back doors swung open as Nate, Hunter, and Jase slid into the back. Bishop got into the driver’s seat beside me.
“This feels a little tense.” I glanced out the window, unease slowly seeping in.
“Because it is,” Nate mumbled in the back. Bishop’s eyes shot to him in the rearview mirror before putting the truck into first and flooring us out of there. The silence that fell was comfortable, and actually, I preferred it. This way I could take in my surroundings without having to maintain small talk. I watched as the thick shrubs started to morph and melt into the fat green wild forest, and the asphalt road transformed to dirt. The closeness of the overgrown trees, long grass and wilderness made it feel like our trip was more of the off-road trip. I turned in my seat to see the other two trucks still behind us, my panicking semi-subsided. My eyes dropped down to Jase’s lap, and then to Hunter’s and Nate’s, all to catch them loading up AK’s.
“Why do I feel like we’re walking into a war zone?” I turned back in my seat, my hands skimming over the metal door. I bet if I googled this make of Mercedes, it would tell me it was bulletproof.
“Because we are,” Bishop replied casually, flooring it. We shot forward faster, so fast that I could no longer enjoy the scenery outside because everything looked like an oil paint mixture gone wrong.
“Nate, what are you doing with Tatum?” I asked.