He jerked his head up when he heard a pained groan from farther in the house. Bishop walked forward but Edison clamped him on his arm his bloodshot eyes wide with fear. “No. Call 911.”
It only took a second to see that Edison didn’t have any bruises, and the blood on his face wasn’t his own. Skylar worked his way off the floor using the back of the couch. Bishop tucked Edison behind his back with one arm and moved them both towards the living room. As much as he wanted to leap over the sectional and tear Skylar’s hands off for touching what was his, he wouldn’t dare leave Edison’s side. Not with the way he was shaking and clutching on to him.
Bishop got a good look at Skylar’s face. It was bad. He had one hand over his nose which was leaking down his expensive shirt and both his eyes were already darkening underneath with bruises. A head butt could be a crippling blow. He was glad Edison had been paying attention to his lesson.
He and Skylar locked eyes for a few tense seconds and a small part of Bishop smiled, but he didn’t let it show. This was the final battle, and he planned to win it. Skylar had worked overtime to make his life hell, had repeatedly harassed his boyfriend, had threatened his freedom and humiliated him in front of all of Town Center. There was only one way Bishop knew how to deal with problems like that.
“Trent,” Bishop growled.
“I warned you he’d let me loose, didn’t I,” Trent said, stepping inside the open patio door. “He always does.”
Skylar held one bloody hand out in front of him, his frantic gaze darting around for an escape route but there were only two ways out. He’d have to either pass by him or by Trent.
“I’ll sue. I have lawyers on speed dial. You can’t touch me,” Skylar said, trying to sound as if he still had the upper hand.
“You broke into another’s man’s house and attacked him, now you want to be the victim?” Trent widened his stance. “It doesn’t work that way where I come from.”
“Fuck you.”
“I don’t swing that way.” Trent glowered. “But I am gonna make you bow at my feet.”
“What?” Skylar asked. He didn’t have long to wonder what Trent meant when he accelerated towards him, leaving him with nowhere to run.
“Oh no,” Edison whispered, clenching Bishop’s waist.
“Look away baby,” Bishop mumbled and tucked Edison’s head in his armpit just as Trent brought his boot up and slammed it into Skylar’s midsection, making him fold over and fall to the floor… right at Trent’s feet.
Edison clamped one hand over his ear. “Stop it, stop it!” he said repeatedly at the sound of Skylar’s scream.
Bishop didn’t say stop, and Trent kept going. He grabbed Skylar by the back of his neck and hefted him until he was on his knees. “I’m not going to rearrange that face since Edison already did that.” Skylar grunted when Trent yanked his arm behind his back and snarled in his ear. “You don’t wanna have a face that pretty in jail, trust me. The fellas will keep you on your knees all night. You won’t have a moment’s peace.”
Bishop made sure to keep his body in front of Edison while Trent worked.
“You know. I think you owe Edison an apology for being such a dick all your life.” Trent threw Skylar so hard that he flew across the dining room floor, the momentum slamming him into the breakfast bar. He watched in satisfaction as Skylar cupped the back of his head, grimacing.
“Bishop,” Edison sniffled.
“Make the call,” Bishop said calmly, not wanting to make Edison more upset. He never took his eyes off Skylar. He wanted to get his own hits in, but he knew if he did… he wouldn’t be able to stop. Not until it was over. Not until Skylar had permanent damage. That’s why Trent preferred to do the manhandling—he had more self-control.
Trent pulled out his cell phone, his chest heaving and sweat dripping down his temple.
“Are you calling some gang people to come take him?” Edison backed away, shaking his head profusely.
Trent barked a laugh, “You read to many fiction stories, Edison.”
Bishop pulled Edison back to him. “I don’t have any gang people I can call, Eddie. Not anymore. He’s calling the cops.”
Edison slumped against him.
Trent stood over Skylar until the police came. No matter how much he’d begged Edison to not press charges, his boyfriend had been brave. He said he wasn’t letting Skylar get away with putting his hands on him. Period.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Edison
“Here baby.” Bishop set a glass of his Lipton calming tea in front of him. He was still a bit shaky, but he was feeling a lot better now that Skylar was out of his house and probably being fingerprinted at that moment. He was gonna have to speak to Presley first thing in the morning and let her know what had happened, because he fully intended to press charges to the extent that the law allowed. He also wanted to make sure that Trent was protected.