by J. Kenner
“Terrific,” I say, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad. It’s been a long time since I’ve been left out of one of Ella’s business meetings. I push it aside, though, then run through a mental map for getting from Liam’s condo in Malibu to Ella’s house in the Hollywood Hills. I glance at the clock, do some mental math, and decide we have enough time.
“What?” Liam is studying my face, the gleam in his narrowed eyes suggesting he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“I realize you went to a lot of trouble to get those blueberries,” I say, “but I was wondering if we could eat in the car.”
His brows rise. “Crumbs in the Beemer? I don’t know.”
“You have a BMW, too?”
He shrugs. “I like vehicles.”
“I guess so.”
“You want to tell me for what good reason should I sacrifice my recently detailed car?”
“Oh, no big deal,” I say airily. “Just something else I wanted to do before we left … and I don’t think there’s time to do both.”
“Is that so?”
“Not if we do the first one right.”
He takes a step toward me, the humor in his eyes now replaced by a heat that pools in my belly and seeps down between my legs. “Now you’ve intrigued me,” he says. “What do you have in mind?”
I untie the robe, open it, then let it slide down my arms and onto the floor. “Take a guess.”
He drops to his knees, his hands cupping my ass and his tongue sliding over my pussy.
I groan, my legs going so weak I probably would have crumpled to the floor if his hands weren’t supporting me. “Oh my God, you are a very good guesser.”
“Just one of my many talents,” he says as he rises again, then picks me up so that my breasts are pressed against his chest, my arms are around his neck, and my legs are hooked tight around his waist. He carries me that way to the bed, then tumbles us both onto the mattress.
I meet his eyes and tremble from the desire I see there. I could stay like this for hours, just getting lost in the way he looks at me. Like I’m special. Like I’m the only thing in the world that matters to him.
It’s intoxicating. A sensation that is matched only by his actual touch. Which, right now, I desperately crave.
“Finger me,” I whisper, and am rewarded with a cocky grin and his fingers dipping slowly inside me.
“A woman who knows what she wants. I like that.”
“Funny,” I say. “I feel the same way. Tell me what you want. Anything at all.”
“I have what I want,” he says, his thumb rubbing distracting circles on my clit. “I have you at my mercy.”
“I could be more at your mercy,” I whisper, my hips moving in response to the incredible way he’s firing my senses. “You can do whatever you want with me.”
“What I want is to make love to you all morning, but apparently we have an appointment.”
And apparently, I’m going to have to be more direct.
I untuck his T-shirt, then unbutton his jeans. I get my hands under the material so I can cup his wonderfully firm ass and pull him close to me as I make my confession. “So, I, um, found my clothes in your closet like you said.”
“And yet you’re not wearing them.”
“Well, we can’t move too fast on these things,” I quip, earning a laugh. I barrel on. “The thing is, I accidentally spilled another bag. I didn’t mean to snoop, but I found—”
“Oh, fuck.”
He rolls off me, then props himself up on an arm, facing me, his hand gently stroking my cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“Sorry?” I try to process his words, and the only thing I can come up with is that he’s had sex with other women. Not exactly a revelation. “It’s not like I thought I was the first woman in your bed. I know you blow off steam, remember?”
“Yes, and sometimes I like…” He hesitates, then sits up, two fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. He looks utterly wrecked, and I have no idea why.
Finally, he speaks, his voice low and even. “I should have put that stuff away. I wasn’t thinking. But please know that I understand what you’ve been through.” His voice is calm. The way he might speak to a frantic child. Or a skittish cat. “And I would never, ever ask you to do that.”
I stay still, stunned and unsure how to react. How to explain that he has this completely wrong despite his heart being so firmly planted in exactly the right place. “Liam, I—”
He takes my hand and presses it to his heart. “Xena, baby, I will take care of you, and I want you in my bed. And just because I sometimes need—no, that has nothing to do with you. So long as you’re with me, you’re in a safe place. I want you to understand that. I would never do anything to trigger those memories, and I am so, so sorry you stumbled across that.”
I’ve clearly thrown him for a loop, and I honestly don’t know if I should try to explain or if I should just let this play out and try again later. Considering we need to go soon, later is probably the better option, because I have a feeling that telling this man that even with my history, I want him to cuff me to the bed is going to be a very dicey conversation.
But I do want it. More than that, I need it.
But I need him more.
I swallow, then lick my lips. “It’s okay,” I say. “Really. I was, um, just embarrassed that I’d run across something so personal. But I’m not upset. Not at all. Truly.”
He searches my face, then nods, apparently satisfied. “I want you to trust me,” he says.
“I do, I promise.” And that’s the God’s honest truth. I just don’t know how to tell him the rest of it.
Chapter Nineteen
Liam had no idea what the hell he’d been thinking leaving that damn sack of toys in the closet. Except of course that he hadn’t been thinking, primarily because he’d forgotten all about the bag and the items inside it.
It had been months since he’d been with a woman that way. Hell, it had been months since he’d been with a woman other than Xena. He’d told her the truth when he’d said that he blew off steam from time to time, but the truth was that since he had no interest in starting a relationship with any of the women who’d shared his bed, he’d become less and less interested in having them in his bed at all.
He’d chalked it up to getting older and having less patience for the tedious repetition that accompanied hook-ups or even casual dating. But that wasn’t the real reason. Mostly, he was just over it.
Or he’d thought he was. Because the woman now sitting beside him making small moans of satisfaction as she ate a blueberry muffin—moans that had him wanting to pull the BMW over and make her really moan—had snuck up on him and changed the way he looked at everything.
With Xena, he wasn’t over it at all. With her, he felt alive again in ways he hadn’t felt since Dion. Ways he thought he’d wanted to leave behind forever. But now … well, now he cherished the way she made him smile and laugh. The way she looked at him with unfettered desire.
She’d opened herself to him about a time in her life that had been beyond horrific. She’d trusted him.
And he’d gone and blown it because he’d cleaned out the drawer of his bedside table a few months ago and never properly put the damn stuff away.
He wanted to fucking kick himself.
“Are you sure you don’t want a muffin?” she said. “You look like you could use one.”
He drew a calming breath, not wanting to add to the stress he was certain he’d caused her—despite her polite protests to the contrary. “What does someone who could use a muffin look like?”
“Duh,” she said. “You.”
They’d reached a three-way intersection of the canyon roads leading up to Ella’s house, and he looked at her as he waited for an oncoming car to pass, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Bad joke.”
“Oh, no. It was a great joke. You must be misinformed.”
“Possibly,” he said. “But—” He cut himself off, frowni
ng at the black SUV reflected in the review mirror. Common enough in LA. But had he seen that particular one before, just a few streets back?
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure. Probably a coincidence. But we’re taking a different route.” He’d intended to go straight, but now he took a sharp right, which had him climbing an unfamiliar street.
He followed the twists and curves until he was certain they weren’t being followed, then he slowed while the Waze App recalibrated and found the quickest route.
He checked repeatedly during the remainder of the drive, but the SUV never appeared behind them again.
“Probably just my paranoia,” he said to Winston later, after they were safely in Ella’s house. “I didn’t even suspect a tail until we were a few miles from Ella’s.”
“And your windows are tinted,” Winston said. “So no chance one of Noyce’s random flunkies saw you two and decided to follow.”
He said the last with a grin, and Liam responded with a self-deprecating shake of his head. “Yes, I’m sure Noyce has lined the streets with minions in cars just waiting for me to pass.”
“Anything’s possible,” Winston said with equal humor.
“It’s her.” Liam sighed. “Xena. That woman has me twisted up, and I can’t stand the thought of something happening to her because I fucked up.”
“You won’t fuck up,” Winston said. Tall and lanky, with an easy manner and soul-searching eyes, Winston Starr looked the part of the real-life role he used to play. When they’d first met, Liam had been unsure about the value that a former West Texas sheriff could bring to an internationally elite team. But he’d learned soon enough that there was more to Winston than met the eye, and they’d become good friends. One day, he intended to learn about the demons in Winston’s past. Until then, he was content to admire the man’s work ethic and skills.
They were in the kitchen, and Liam took one of the bottled waters that Ella had left on the counter for him and Winston before she, Rye, and Xena had gone off to the media room to chat. Liam knew they would have preferred to sit on the patio overlooking hills—that same patio where he’d stood with Xena the night he’d been so damn tempted to kiss her. But he was taking no chances with Xena’s life. Outside, she was a sitting duck for any of Noyce’s assholes with a high-powered rifle. At the very least, anyone with eyes on Ella’s house would know that Xena wasn’t in Seattle.
It was for that reason that he’d approved the media room rather than the sunny living area. No windows.
And why he’d had Rye and Ella both walk over to the cottage and bring back a bag of clothes for Xena, all the while chatting about how they should see about renting the studio since Xena was moving out of state.
He was just about to tell Winston they should head into the other room and join the others when a text came in from Mario: Call Me.
He showed it to Winston, whose brows rose. “Think he got a hit?”
“I think we should find out,” Liam said, then started to dial, only to pause as Ella and Rye came into the room, arm in arm.
“Are you two in here eating all my food or discussing all my bad habits?” Ella asked, grinning at them both.
“You have bad habits?” Liam asked, deadpan.
She winked. “Of course. Or don’t you follow me on social media?”
He chuckled, and she waved her hand, as if dismissing the banter. “We just came to get popcorn and the two of you,” she told them as Rye ducked into the pantry, then emerged with two large, red bags of pre-popped corn, the pantry door still open behind him. “We’ve already got drinks in the media room fridge. You ready?”
“Just need to return Mario’s call,” Liam said.
“Does he have news on those two guys?” Rye asked.
“Probably only checking in,” Liam said, not wanting to get the manager’s hopes up.
“Well, don’t be long,” Ella said. “We want to start.”
“What are we watching?” Liam asked.
“Me, of course. Concert footage. For your entertainment and my edification. If I don’t watch every show, how will I know where I can improve?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned on her heel and headed back, with Rye right behind her.
“Be there in a minute,” Winston called, shooting Liam an amused look.
“We should get her on board at the SSA,” he said while he put his phone on speaker and waited for Mario to answer. “That woman knows how to lead a team.”
“Got a hit!” Mario shouted out the news without preamble, making Liam flinch, as he hadn’t even realized the line had connected.
“Which one?” Liam asked.
“Square jaw. His name’s Patrick Weil. Grew up in Jersey, but he lives in Manhattan. One of Seagrave’s contacts in the Defense Department called in some favors and got us confirmation.”
“Have we got eyes on him?”
“On the address, yes,” Mario said. “But not on the man. Confirmation of his location in the city was made twelve minutes ago. An ATM that time-stamped him at that location ninety minutes ago. I sent a team, but he was long gone.”
“And his home address?”
“Got a team watching the place,” Mario assured him. “Right now, no one’s home.”
Liam took a long swallow of water, thinking. “Odds are he’s still in town, but we can’t ignore the possibility that he deliberately used a Manhattan ATM to place him in the city. If he hopped on a bus or a train, he could be long gone by now.”
“No argument from me,” Mario said. “But this is the best we’ve got.”
“And it’s good work,” Liam agreed. “I just want this wrapped up. For Xena’s sake.”
“I get you. And I’ll call you if anything happens at his apartment.”
“Good. And get in touch with Dallas Sykes, or ask Ryan to. If you need extra manpower, he’ll be able to get it to you. And tell Dallas that Xena and I will see him soon.”
“You’re heading to New York?”
“You know me, Mario. I always go where the action is.” He grinned as he ended the call, then met Winston’s eyes. “A little progress, at least.”
“Always a good thing,” Winston said in that slow, easy drawl. “And about time. I haven’t learned a thing with Ella and Rye, either here or earlier in Vegas. Well, that’s not actually true,” he amended. “I learned pretty much everything there is to know about working a concert, but I didn’t see a single thing that was suspicious.”
“Did you interview the staff?”
“Do I look like I’m new to this game? I did interviews until I thought my ears would fall off. Swept for bugs, the whole nine yards.”
“What about doing an electronics sweep here?” Liam asked. He knew it was possible that someone had gotten into the Hollywood Hills house while Ella and Rye were in Vegas and set up electronic surveillance, either audio or video.
Winston shook his head. “Did that, found nothing. But nice of you to double check me.”
Liam shot him an apologetic smile.
“Don’t worry about me, I don’t get my nose out of joint. I know you’re trying to cover all bases.”
“Mostly I’m just hoping that we’ll stumble over something we forgot. Something we missed. I don’t know. Maybe I was too quick to assume Gordon’s asinine publicity stunt was isolated. Maybe it’s actually at the heart of this whole thing.”
“So we get eyes on him again. Set up another interview.”
Liam nodded. “I will. Although it just doesn’t ring for me. But we’ll check it anyway.” He rubbed his hand over his scalp, then took a long frustrated breath.
“We’ll figure it out,” Winston assured him. “God knows, I’m invested now too. I’m camping out here with Ella and Rye while they’re in town, and then I’m going to head up with them to San Francisco when they finish the tour.”
“Are you sure?” Liam asked. “That might be a good time to hand them off to a full service body guard company.”
> “I’ll do that after San Francisco if we don’t have this in the bag. But like I said, I want to stick with it. I like them both, and, well...”
“What?” Liam asked, as Winston trailed off.
“Its nothing having to do with your perp. Just those two. My God, he is head over heels for that woman. Reminds me of me back in the day. God, my Linda. I would’ve done anything for that woman...”
He trailed off again, this time with a melancholy smile lighting his face.
Liam wanted to ask, but he couldn’t quite find the words. He knew there’d been a reason that Winston had left West Texas, and he thought that he was seeing a hint of it now. But that wasn’t the only thing that had him holding his tongue. Beneath Winston’s pain, there was an undercurrent of something so damn familiar. A kinship between Liam and Winston. And even Rye. A kinship born of loyalty to a woman.
Because with each passing day, Liam felt more and more the same. And as far as Xena was concerned, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her safe.
“Do you miss it?” Liam glanced over at the woman beside him. They were back in his SUV, driving down the famous stretch of Mulholland Drive that ran along the top of the foothills, separating the west side from the San Fernando Valley.
“Do I miss what?” Xena asked.
“I was watching your face during the concert video,” Liam said.
“Don’t tell Ella. She’ll never let you hear the end of it.”
“You can help keep my secrets,” Liam said.
She turned in her seat, looking at him, a small shy smile on her lips. “I’ll always do that,” she said. “You know that, right?”
He did, actually. It was so strange the way that they fit together. The way that she’d simply slid into his life, and fit so perfectly, as if he was one part of a jagged piece of broken pottery and she was the missing piece, and now their rough edges combined to make something perfect and beautiful.
He half laughed, amused by his own flowery thinking.
“What?”
He hesitated, wanting to tell her the direction of his thoughts. Wanting to talk with her and lay out how she made him feel wonderful and confused all at the same time.
