“Peter!” Davis shouts, causing me to jump in my seat. “Bring her out.”
The door on the back side of the room unlocks slowly and a man, who I assume is Peter, walks out first, his face sweating profusely. He looks nervous and maybe a little skittish. I narrow my eyes but try my best to remain indifferent.
Rowan, in a deep green dress, timidly walks in. I fight the instinct to rush to her. She juts her chin out and raises her head high. She doesn’t look anyone in the eye—as a matter of fact, she looks bored, unaffected. How in the hell is she so composed? Her heels clack against the concrete and she stands in the middle of the room in front of Davis. She raises her eyes, and concentrates on a spot on the wall above our heads.
I fidget uneasily in my chair, nervous that the sight of her might set me off. I have no idea how I’m keeping it together. I silently thank all of my years in training for this moment. If I had to do this six years ago, I would have overreacted and probably gotten myself killed.
“Now, Colter,” Davis says. “Peter will escort both you and Ms. Townsend to the back room where you are free to do what you want. You have five minutes. When those five minutes are up, you leave and return here. You do not speak to the other men. Understand?”
I nod, again, rising from my seat.
“Good.”
Peter saunters to Rowan, looking her in the eye, and the corners of her mouth twitch in the slightest. Their exchange perturbs me, but I trail behind them. He ushers us to a room maybe four hundred feet away from the viewing room, and when Peter closes the door, I immediately pull out my gun and aim it at his face. His eyes panic as he holds his hands up in surrender. Rowan gasps, and I pull my glasses off, confused by her reaction.
“It’s me, Little One,” I say, but don’t turn around to look at her. My finger twitches on the trigger. I want to take this guy out. Who knows what he’s been told to do to her.
“Don’t!” Rowan shouts in a loud whisper. “Don’t shoot him.” And then she cries. She breaks down into a heap on the chair in the corner. She covers her mouth with her hand, muffling her cries.
I don’t lower my hand, but I crane my neck to look at her. “Baby, I’m here.”
“Don’t shoot him,” she says, again in a small voice, hiccups overtaking her as she speaks. “Peter was trying to help me escape.”
My eyes reduce to slits and I turn back to Peter. “You were?”
His eyes look sad. Defeated. “I was. We got pretty far until Rowan tripped and one of our guys caught her.”
Rowan rubs her head. “He clocked me in the head. Knocked me out.”
My nostrils flare and I have to stop myself from finding the man that hit her and bashing his face in.
I shoot a glare at Peter. “You didn’t do anything?”
He looks down at his feet, his expression pitiful. “I had to keep up appearances.”
I grind my teeth, now wanting to punch his nose through his head.
Rowan stands. “How are you here, Lark?” she asks, rushing to me. I lower the gun, and wrap my arms around her.
My head goes to her neck and I breathe in her scent that I’ve missed so much. “I’ll always find you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
She sniffles into my chest. “It’s okay. I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Me too,” I say, very close to breaking down myself.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I love you. More than yesterday,” I return.
Peter clears his throat. “Uh, this is touching, guys, really. But how the hell are we going to get out of here?”
Rowan pulls away from me, and I wipe the moisture from her face away with my thumb. I kiss her forehead and turn around to look at Peter. “You really want out?”
I thought loyalties ran deep in this family—or at least they did. I don’t recognize his face, but I do recognize his name. He’s one of Davis’s cousins, the only one in the group to never be arrested. As a matter of fact, we had no idea he was even really a part of this operation. It was just a known fact that Davis’s family followed him around, working for the family business.
“I do.” He huffs. “We only have four minutes left. We have to go now.”
“You know your way around here best, what do we do?”
Peter shakes his head solemnly. “We can’t get out of here unless we have an army.”
I nod, growing apprehensive. If Logan hasn’t delivered the troops, we might be rushing to a fight we can’t win.
“Liam,” I say into my radio. “Come in.”
It takes him a few seconds, but he answers in a hushed tone. “Liam, here.”
“Did Logan pull through?”
Seconds pass and I already know down deep in my gut what the answer is. “No word.”
I deflate and look to Peter. “Can we get out from here?”
“We can. But there are at least another three guards outside.”
I look at my watch. Three minutes. “Where does that door lead?” I point to one on the other side of the room. It’s an odd set up in here. There’s only one wall in the entire room that doesn’t have a door leading somewhere.
“That one leads out into the hallway.”
I lick my lips. “We have to get my partner. He’s in the hallway, two doors down.”
Peter nods, moving to the door.
“Liam, someone is coming to get you.”
“What?” he panics. I can hear it in his voice.
“Trust me.”
The button clicks for him to respond, and I hear him huff. “Copy that.”
A few seconds later, Liam arrives in the room in front of Peter and I breathe a sigh of relief. Liam stands next to Rowan and he wraps his arm around her, hugging her fiercely. Tears trickle down her cheeks, and she lays her head on his shoulder.
“Glad to see you back, darling,” Liam says, kissing her head.
Rowan nods. “You too, buddy.”
“What’s the plan?” I say, turning back to Peter, ready to get the hell out of here. Rowan grabs my hand.
“That door leads to the back hall. It’ll take us to the exit.”
Another look at my watch. One minute. “Let’s go.”
Peter opens the door and we shadow him out. The hall is vacant, so we jog to the door.
“This isn’t right,” Peter says, worry unmistakable in his voice. “There are usually people here.”
My eyes go wide and I look to Liam who shrugs. “Maybe we got lucky?”
I highly doubt that, but Peter opens the door and the blistering, unkind wind hits me hard in the face. A loud shuffle behind us spurs us to move outside, shutting the door. We run along the bank of the river next to the tunnel, hoping to make our way back to base. We’re miles away, but I’d rather keep moving than figure out what that noise was.
Gunshots, one after another, begin to pop. Over and over again. Someone runs over the gorge, one of Davis’s men, shooting at us. I cover Rowan’s body with my own and Liam shoots, hitting the man in the stomach.
“Peter,” I say. “Take Rowan. Head north. You’ll find our base camp.”
I offer Rowan my hand to help her up and she vigorously shakes her head. “No! I won’t leave you.”
I look to her, grab her face and kiss her lips, our teeth rattling with the intensity. Gunshots ring around us, and I’m not sure what’s happening, but I need her to get far away from here. “I love you. I’ll be there soon.”
“No,” she cries. Her lips tremble.
“Go.” I push her into Peter’s arms. “Keep her safe.”
Peter takes Rowan’s hand. “I will.” He stops. “Be careful. Davis’s men are everywhere.”
“How many?”
“Fifteen—maybe twenty. He just hired a bunch of people because he knew you’d come for Rowan.”
Bang! More gunfire.
“Go,” I say, again, forcefully shoving them away. “And, Peter?” He turns. “Thank you.”
His lips thin, but he nods, tugging Rowan
. I watch for a couple seconds as they cross over the river and on to the other side, safely away from the fight.
Rowan turns back toward me and I have to force myself to look away. The gunfire continues to shriek all around me, and someone is going to eventually notice one of their men dead on the ground.
“Now or never,” Liam says, running at full speed over the top of the gorge.
The scene we come upon is something I never thought I’d see. It’s a full out war. Dozens of our agents fend off Davis’s men. In full camouflage, our men punch, shoot and claw their way through, hoping to gain ground.
One of our men sees us, signaling us to flank him.
Dodging shots, Liam and I run to Harper, a man I’ve only met once in Deleware. He pulls us behind a group of trees, somewhat shielding us. “Where is she?” he yells, evading reverberating bullets.
“Safe, sir,” I tell him. “She’s on her way back to base.”
A confident smile crosses Harper’s face. “Well done. Let’s finish this.”
Crossing my hands under both of my arms, I grab my guns and walk out from behind the trees. Liam does the same and together, we walk into battle.
A fair amount of Davis’s men are already on the ground as we make our way to our brothers.
A man rushes me, and I shuffle my feet back, pulling the trigger of my gun. Another man attempts to sneak up behind Liam, a branch cracks under his feet, and I shoot his leg.
“Thanks, mate!” Liam says, looking confident.
And then the sound is so quiet. Liam’s eyes enlarge and his mouth drops open. He throws himself in front of my body, instantly falling to the ground at my feet. Dark red blood seeps the front of his shirt and I rush to him, shoving my hands on his gunshot wound.
Davis walks to us, his gun aimed at my face. He smirks, proud of himself. “You got past me. That doesn’t happen very often.” I gulp hard, panic fizzling all over my body. My gun’s next to Liam’s body, I don’t have time to reach for it. I’m all out of options. I close my eyes, accepting my fate when someone, one of our snipers, shoots him in the head. I snap my eyes open, stunned and watch as Davis’s body crumples to the ground.
Turning my attention back to Liam, I push on his injury. “No,” I seethe, tears falling from eyes. “No!” But the blood is relentless, gushing through my fingers.
Liam smiles, blood staining his teeth and lips. “It’s okay, mate.” His hand finds mine and with immense effort, he squeezes. “It’s okay.”
I shake my head, pushing my hand farther down on his stomach. “No,” I say, again.
Liam closes his eyes, and his breaths become shallow and sporadic, his chest rising and falling. Wetness seeps into my face. I don’t hear the gunfire anymore. Liam is all that matters. Resting my forehead on his, Liam closes his eyes and takes his last breath. His hold on my hand slackens and falls to his side.
I shake my head, angry with myself for allowing it to happen.
When I look away from his face, the field is quiet. Silent. The only sounds are birds and running water. No gunshots, no fighting, nothing. It’s over.
I lay my head back on Liam’s forehead and grieve the loss of my brother.
RADIO SILENCE. PURE STATIC FILLS my ears as I watch Davis point his gun at Lark and Liam. I open my mouth to scream. To yell and warn them, but my voice won’t allow me to do anything but croak out unintelligible syllables. And as Davis’s gun hisses through the air, I fall to my knees. The jagged rocks on the ground cut through the satin dress Peter had me put on hours ago, and small specks of blood trickle through the fabric. Peter, with a terrified expression, falls to my feet as a sniper behind us shoots Davis in the head.
Tears ruthlessly fall from my eyes, unforgiving and regretful.
Peter and I had only walked about twenty feet away when I decided I needed to take another look at Lark. Peter shielded my body, but I pushed against him, set on seeing Lark one last time.
When Lark was saying goodbye, I had a sneaky suspicion that he wasn’t sure of the outcome. Going into any sort of battle, you never do. But I think he was willing to die. Lark had it set in his mind, and he was at peace with it. He saved me. He was willing to die for me. He was willing to die to bring this organization down. He was willing to die to save every woman that could be caught by Davis. Lark was looking for truth, and sometimes, there’s truth in death. It’s the most perfect certainty there is. He had wanted to find penance for the long list of bad things he did before me, and I think in his mind, going out and fighting for something that mattered, it was his way of wiping his slate clean.
Peter wraps his arm around my shoulders and I watch Lark rest his forehead on Liam’s.
As a unit, united forever by devastation, Peter and I weep. Me, because I know Liam’s gone—sweet, obnoxious Liam—I can’t believe it. My heart shatters at the thought. And Peter because, though Davis was a loathsome human being, he was his family. They had spent years together, no matter how screwed up Davis was, Peter loved him. I saw it in Peter’s eyes every time he looked at him. And for that, I cry for Peter, too.
Do I wish Davis had survived long enough to go to court and have a fair trial? No. The man had done too many awful things. Things that should have earned him the death penalty long ago. I’m definitely not judge, jury, and executioner by any means, but the man was a stain on the world. He needed to be removed. Maybe his death will be peace for every person he’s ever hurt.
Eventually, the gunfire quiets down and all that’s left of the fight is gun smoke and sadness. One by one, FBI agents begin to stand, putting their arsenal away and walk to the open field where Liam and Lark are. Every agent in the vicinity congregates around Liam’s body, one man lifting Lark’s heavy body off the ground. Forming a circle around Liam, the group huddles, arms around one another, and they grieve.
It’s beautiful and heartbreaking.
After I don’t know how long, the crowd releases each other, each man rubbing his eyes, clearly wiping away tears. My heart breaks for each and every one of them. The guys then move to Lark, gently patting him on the back as they make their way to their stations. And as I watch with concern, I know Liam’s death wasn’t in vain.
Chris and Evan are the last to approach Lark, and with trembling shoulders, they huddle together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and mourn.
Peter carefully picks me up off the ground to my feet and wraps his arm around my waist, holding my weight. Tears still continuously soak my face, but I refuse to swipe them away. If they leave or dry from my face, it’ll mean Liam is truly gone and I can’t accept that just yet.
Peter steers me in the direction of base camp, but I pull away from him, making my way to Lark.
My feet feel heavy as I walk through the sludge on the ground. It’s probably close to freezing, but I don’t feel a thing. My legs aren’t cold and my body is pretty much numb. All of me is.
My legs begin to move faster, anxious to be with Lark. I stumble and trip on exposed tree branches on the ground, but I don’t falter. I pull my dress up slightly with my hands and run as fast as my feet will allow. The moment I step into the open field, Lark notices me. That invisible string that somehow always connects us lets him know I’m near. He takes a few steps away from Liam’s resting body as I continue to run. The ever-growing pull to him pushes me to buckle down harder. To run faster. To comfort him. To make sure he knows he’s not alone. He never will be. He’ll always have me.
His eyes become soft and his chin trembles as I near him. Each tear that falls from his eyes rips at my soul, pushing me to make it better. And when I’m finally within reaching distance of him, he pulls me to him and my body crashes into his. He strongly wraps his arms around me, sobbing into my neck. My dress is soaked in his salty tears within seconds. Grabbing at my skin, he tries to find solace in me. And as I listen to him bawl, I can’t stop my own tears. Shudders wrack our bodies.
Together, our hearts spiral into the deep abyss of sadness. It overtakes us, suffocating us lik
e the bastard it is. It shatters the warmth and confidence we once knew, giving grief a new meaning. We mourn our friend. We lost a family member and I wonder if we’ll ever be able to be able to get up from this. I don’t know if it’ll ever happen. Hope seems pointless. Our hearts are broken.
Lark and I continue to cling to each other in a battlefield stained with the blood of villains and heroes. And as I open my eyes to look about, I know this is the moment we will never forget. This is the moment that’ll be seared into our memories forever. Together we fought the devil. An evil man. And though we lost someone close to us, this war was won.
Liam saved Lark’s life. He stepped in front of that bullet and in a way, shielded my heart in the process.
Never again will there be another man like Liam Hunter. Our brave, fearless, slightly goofy friend and brother is gone, but his memory will live on.
One month later…
Getting back to normal after something unthinkable happens is probably the worst possible thing to be forced to do in the history of history.
The weeks after losing Liam were the darkest I’ve had in my entire life. The grieving process alone was a difficult pill to swallow. Is there a good, healthy way to mourn? I don’t think so. If anything, it probably brings out the worst in each and every one of us. So when Lark and I returned to New York, we holed ourselves up in my apartment until someone forced us out. And even then, we weren’t too happy about it. Hiding from the world seemed like the easier decision.
There’s now an entire memorial in Central Park in Liam’s honor. Lark and I visit it often. It helps us cope. It helps us still feel close to him. Once news broke of his heroism, the mayor thought it appropriate to reserve his memory. We’re forever grateful for it.
Some members of the bureau traveled to Europe last week with us for his funeral. It was a lovely service where thousands of people attended. Word got out to the locals, and it spread like wildfire. Liam was a hero. He would’ve loved the attention.
We miss him so very much.
But as I sit in my empty apartment, the ruckus officially over, I can’t help but feel down—and maybe a little lost.
The Truth of a Liar Page 24
