by J. Kenner
Liam rubs the back of his neck, his expression frustrated. “Bottom line, the man is a chameleon who also knows how to be a ghost.”
“At least he has a pattern,” I say. “That’s something, right?”
“That’s something,” Quince agrees. “But it’s not much.”
After a bit more housekeeping, Liam ends the call, his eyes hard on me. “What were you saying about safe?”
“Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head. “If I’m not safe it’s because of me. My past. Not because of what you do. You’re the one who keeps me safe, and you know it.”
“Maybe so, but we both know it will never end. Even when Noyce is behind bars—and we will catch him—you’ll still be in danger. You’ll be in danger because you’re my Achilles’ heel, and anyone who pays attention will know that.”
“Liam, don’t. You don’t have to be alone because of what you do. Is Dallas? Quince? Ryan?”
He sits up, sighing deeply as he reaches up and rubs his temples with the thumb and middle finger of one large hand. “What I do … it puts people at risk. And you’ve been at risk enough. But I’m not sure I care any more. I need you. And I will do whatever I can to protect you.”
“I—” My heart is beating so loud I’m not even sure I really heard what he said. “Liam, are you saying—”
“I’m saying that maybe you and Dallas have managed to get through my thick skull. I’m saying I love you. And I’m saying that I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you. So I either curl up in a ball and hide from reality, or I go all in and love you—and protect you.”
My throat is thick with unshed tears.
“So I’m giving you one chance—just this one chance—to say no. Because if you say yes—if you stay—I’m not ever letting you go.”
It’s hard to talk, my tears are flowing so freely now, but I nod ferociously, and finally manage to find my voice. “I’ve never thought of myself as all that smart. And neither are you if you think you can get rid of me that easily.”
“Thank God,” Liam says, as he pulls me close. His lips brush over mine, soft and incredibly sweet and so full of love it makes me want to cry.
His touch is tender as he slowly peels off my tank and my shorts, then turns more demanding when I’m naked beside him. He undresses as well, then pulls me on top of him. I straddle his waist, my thighs tight against his torso as he reaches up to stroke my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“What for?”
“For ever thinking I could walk away from you.”
Happiness swells inside me as I slide down his body, my sex stroking his erection. I meet his eyes, them slowly take him in, and neither of us look away as I slowly ride him.
One of his hands cups my rear, but he never steals control. The other plays with my breast, and I bite my lower lip, lost in the sweetness of his touch and the power of our connection.
“I want this to last,” he says, and I can hear the strain in his voice. He’s close and so am I, both of us right on the edge, but not wanting this moment to end.
I press my hands to his chest, feeling his heartbeat through my palms as I rock against him, the slow, easy motion of our lovemaking taking us both higher until, whether we want to or not, we’re both forced over, crashing together as our bodies explode as one, pleasure careening through us until I have no choice but to collapse on top of him, our hearts beating as one as my body slowly recovers in his arms.
“That was incredible,” I say, propping myself up enough to see his face. “You’re incredible.”
“I love you,” he says, in a voice so full of emotion I feel tears prick my eyes. “And I’m never letting you go.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“So that’s the proposal.” The lean, fifty-something man with silver-streaked dark hair said, gesturing to the plat maps, blueprints, and colorful brochures that littered the formal dining table.
Norman Erickson had arrived less than an hour ago. And while Xena had stayed upstairs with Jane, the two deep in conversation about Jane’s experience writing the Price of Ransom screenplay and her friendship with Lyle Tarpin, the now-A-list Hollywood star, Dallas and Liam had come down to hear Erickson’s pitch.
The man was well-spoken and confident, a born salesman, and Liam imagined that many a deal had closed as a result of his personality as much as his actual projects. As for that, Liam had to agree that in the moment, the development investment that Erickson proposed sounded sweet.
Of course, con men were skilled in making anything sound sweet, and despite Erickson’s affable nature, there was something about him that rubbed Liam the wrong way.
Since Liam and Xena were heading into the city in about an hour, Erickson was stealing the last few minutes of their time with Jane and Dallas. So maybe he was just disposed to be irritated with the man.
“I’ve completed a similar project in Dallas,” Erickson was saying. “Taking the decaying infrastructure of an underutilized former industrial area and converting it into a community within a community, complete with high-end condos, a few single family homes, restaurants, theaters, day care, a variety of high-end but unique retail stores, and various other facilities such as spas, fitness centers, medical facilities. Plus plenty of greenspace, of course.”
“It’s definitely interesting,” Dallas said, and Liam couldn’t disagree.
“What kind of investors are you looking for, and how many?” Dallas asked.
“You’re curious about how many slices of the pie I’m anticipating, and that depends entirely on the quality of the investors. With you involved, perhaps everyone takes a bigger slice. And if that’s a factor that plays into your decision, I’m open to talk. Early stages, as I said.”
“Are you already negotiating with specific retailers? And who’s your architect?” Liam asked, only to say, “Sorry, I need to take this,” when his ringtone signaled a call from Winston.
He stepped to the far side of the massive room, his back to Dallas and Erickson as he said, “What have you got for me?”
“Nothing good. Rye’s admitted that he told Weil about Ella’s cabin—that’s how they found you in the mountains. And about your visit to Ellie Love’s house the day you almost got run off the road.”
“How? You swept for electronics.”
“My fault,” Winston said. “He had a burner phone, and I fucking missed it.”
“Well, you ultimately found it.”
“No,” Winston said. “I had a come to Jesus with both of them this morning—Christ, they’re early risers—and apparently Ellie had mentioned to him how terrified she was for the two of you, and he couldn’t live with his conscience. I was right about one thing—he’s head over heels for that girl. That’s why he did it.”
“They threatened her if he didn’t help,” Liam said, keeping his voice low.
“Got it in one.”
“Fucking hell.”
“His heart may have been in the right place, but his actions weren’t. He should have come to us, not played their game. I’m not sure if Ella’s going to forgive him for that.”
“Right now, I don’t have a lot of sympathy for the man.”
“It gets worse,” Winston said. “Yesterday, Ellie told Rye how worried she was about the sting at your apartment, and said she was glad they were going to Dallas’s first. So at least you two would have a breather before shit hit the fan.”
Shit.
With a sudden sense of trepidation, Liam glanced up and watched as the usually clear security disk turn blood red. “Sorry, buddy,” he said. “It’s too late for that.”
Dallas was glancing at his phone when Liam casually approached. He nodded, just the hint of movement that let Liam know that Dallas was aware of the threat as well.
The corner indicator turned solid red—emergency services had been called—and then shut off completely.
“Mr. Erickson, if you could wait here, I just received a text from the property caretaker. Apparently we
have a small fire in one of the detached houses.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that. I—well, of course I can wait.”
“Liam, would you mind giving me a hand?”
“Not a problem.”
They left the dining area, shutting the double doors behind them. “Noyce or Weil?” Liam asked as soon as he was certain Erickson wouldn’t overhear them.
“Can’t get a solid visual,” Dallas said. “But the breach is in the guest wing. Someone broke a window and ninja’d their way in.”
He passed Liam his phone, which displayed the security system’s video feed. The intruder wore a black skin suit along with a hood, but the placement of his head made it impossible to see his face.
They hurried past the kitchen and into the wing where Liam had grown up—and where Liam knew there were only three routes to the rest of the house. A twisting passage that passed near the kitchen—their current location. The solarium walkway that led along the length of the house and terminated at the morning room. And the stairwell in the middle of the hall that led to the second floor and was slightly closer to their position than the intruder’s entrance point.
“I remotely locked the stair door,” Dallas said as they rounded the penultimate corner. “With luck, we’ll get there before he breaks through. You armed?”
“These days, always.”
“Good.”
“You?”
Dallas shot him a wry look. “At home, not usually. With you two in the house, I decided to carry.”
“Smart man.”
They were close to the final turn, and Dallas held up a hand indicating silence, and they moved the rest of the distance more slowly, taking care not to let any sound give them away. Liam said a silent prayer that the perp was still there. From this position, once on the second floor, he was too damn close to Xena and Jane, and he hoped like hell that Jane had seen the alarm. Dallas would have locked them in remotely, but Liam wouldn’t feel safe until he had Xena in his arms and saw with his own eyes that Jane and the baby were fine.
Slowly, they approached the corner, and when Liam sidled in front of Dallas, his friend let him, presumably understanding that Liam considered this his fight.
The bastard was there, and when he lifted his head, Liam saw it was Square Jaw, aka Weil. In one motion, Liam lifted his weapon, fired a warning shot, and told the fucker to drop his gun. He’d have preferred to put the bullet right between the bastard’s eyes, but they needed him if they were going to have any chance of finding Noyce.
Weil, however, wasn’t cooperating, and as Dallas approached on Liam’s left, Weil lifted his gun, the sight on Dallas. A cold blast of fear and fury sliced through Liam, and he threw himself onto Dallas, knocking him out of the way a split second before the gun discharged.
His ears rang from the shot, and his left shoulder stung like a bitch.
He was on the ground on top of Dallas, and only barely realized it when Dallas shoved him off, pulled out his own gun, and fired.
Weil dropped, and Liam struggled to his feet as Dallas approached cautiously, his weapon trained on the fallen man.
“Dead,” he said, turning back to Liam. “Shit, man.”
“Clean entry and exit,” Liam said, as Dallas scowled and hurried over. “I’ll be okay.” He was still in shock and his ears still rang, but his upper arm was numb, and that was a blessing. His fingers worked fine, and as far as he could tell, the bullet hadn’t hit any major vessels.
He used his good hand to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, then handed it to Dallas. “Tight,” he said, as he fumbled for his phone and the rarely used home security app for the Sykes house. Video surveillance was always unavailable unless there was a breach, and in that case, every room became visible. And even though he could see Weil’s corpse, he wanted to confirm that the girls were safe.
They weren’t. And what he saw made his blood run cold.
“Norman Erickson,” he said, his voice raspy. “Initials N and E.” He met Dallas’s eyes and saw his own dark fear reflected right back at him. “He studied me. Realized we were friends. He knew I’d eventually come here.”
“He’s been positioning himself with me,” Dallas said. “He set me up—he set both of us up. And now he’s got Jane and Xena.”
Liam forced down the fear and the pain, operating only on raw fury. That’s what he needed. That’s what would destroy the sick fuck.
He paused as they started to race up the stairs. “Go,” he said. “I have an idea.”
“What—?”
“Just go. I’ll meet you. And hurry.”
Dallas didn’t argue, and Liam backtracked, hoping this would work, hoping he wasn’t crazy. Because it had to work. He couldn’t lose her.
He wouldn’t lose her.
Not now that she was finally his.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I’m so happy for you,” Jane says after I tell her about last night. It’s not the first thing we talked about, of course. We started out gossiping about movies, and even though I work with a rising pop star and have met several celebrities, I’m still in awe of the people Jane has worked with.
But the fact is, I simply couldn’t hold it in any longer, and so it all spilled out in one gooey, mushy rush of happiness.
Well, not all. I didn’t tell her about the entire night. Just the conversation with Liam, his confession of love, and, most importantly, his willingness to move forward together and not shove me aside out of fear.
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“You did,” I say happily. “I just wish all of this were over. I feel like I’m in a fairy tale and the prince has kissed me, but the curse still hasn’t lifted.”
“It will,” Jane says. “Liam and Dallas make a good team, and with us beside them, how can they miss. I mean—”
She stops mid-sentence, and I slide off the edge of the bed where I’ve been sitting, my pulse pounding. “Is it the baby? Jane? Jesus, Jane, what’s going on?”
“Alarm,” she says and I look up and see that the glass thingie is flashing red.
“What happened?” I ask, even as she reaches for her phone, and I remember what Liam said about an app.
I see her eyes widen, and one hand goes protectively to her belly. Above us, the alarm light goes out.
“Guest wing,” Jane says. “Someone broke a window. The system alerted 911.” I can tell that she’s trying to stay calm, but the quiver in her voice gives her away, and I know that she’s thinking what I’m thinking—Liam and Dallas.
“They have to be okay,” Jane says, reading my thoughts. “Dallas locked us in.”
“What?” My chest tightens with panic.
“Remote locks.” She nods toward the door. “We’re locked in. No one can get through from either side until it’s disabled.”
“Oh, God,” I say, the panic rising. With Liam at my side, I haven’t had an attack in days, not even that day in the car. But now, with him locked away from me…
My throat tightens, and I fight the sensation. I can’t lose control. I have to fight.
I think of Liam. His touch. His love.
I have to fight so I can live.
I draw a deep breath. “The lock,” I say to Jane, whose face looks as scared as I feel. “Can you disable it? I need to go help them.” I glance wildly around for my purse, which has my tiny Ruger in it, and see it on the bedside table on the far side from Jane.
“No, never mind,” I say, immediately contradicting myself. It’s not like either of them need my meager skill set. I’d only be in the way. But Jane is in no condition to fend for herself. All she has now is me.
I take a deep breath and tell myself that I’ve got this. We’re safe in this room. Dallas and Liam have mad skills. And the cops are on the way. We’re safe as houses, whatever the hell that means.
I take a step toward my purse, then freeze when a sharp crack just about shatters my eardrums. Jane’s scream mingles with my own, and when I automatically look in her dire
ction, I see that whoever is outside has shot the door lock. The doorjamb is shattered, too, and before I can even catch my breath, the door is kicked open and I find myself face to face with Edward Noyce, the man from my past and my nightmares.
And I’m staring straight down the barrel of his gun, cold fear icing my veins.
To my right, I see Jane slowly inching toward my purse. I hadn’t told her I have a gun, but considering I was searching for my bag before my announcement that I had to go out and help the men, I’m guessing she assumes I have something more useful than lipstick in there.
“I wouldn’t do that, Mommy. Not unless you and the little one want to be the next to die.”
“You’ll never get out of here alive,” Jane says.
“She’s right.” That hard, cold voice belongs to Dallas, and as he speaks he moves into view behind Noyce, his gun aimed at the back of the bastard’s head.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. I’m a slippery motherfucker. But even if I die, at least I’ll have the satisfaction of taking her down with me.”
I’m freezing cold. I’ve known fear, but this is different. Before, I’d half-wanted to die, believing it was the only way out of the nightmare that was my life. No, I had no life back then. Just an existence. And while I feared the pain, death would have been a relief.
Now, though…
Now, I have Liam, and the terror that this man can take that from me—from us—runs through me like ice. I can’t think. I can’t move. I can only pray for a miracle that I know won’t come. After all, how many times had I made that plea in my past, only to wake up disappointed.
Now, though, another horrible thought comes to me. Where’s Liam?
I try to swallow my fear. I force myself not to scream out the question to Dallas. He has to be okay.
He has to.
“We can work something out,” Dallas is saying. “Testify against Corbu, and we can make a deal.”
