by Hilary Storm
Chapter Twelve
I stop dead in my tracks when I hit the kitchen and see him cooking. His hair is still messy and he's still only wearing the sweatpants, low on his hips I might add.
"HOW DARE YOU?" I don't even recognize my own voice. The sound of my anger has him turning to face me quickly. I keep my distance, because I don't want him to touch me. Honestly, the thought of him touching me disgusts me.
"Yes, I know. Making you breakfast is horrible. Will you ever forgive me?" What in the fuck is wrong with this asshole? He acts as if nothing has happened. Like my whole world hasn't just been flipped the fuck around and now I don't know who or what to trust.
Fuck this. I'm out of here. This is the last straw. I need clothes before I try to escape because I know for a fact he won’t let me go easily.
He doesn't follow me into his bedroom. I'm just about finished grabbing my clothes when I hear the music begin to blast through the house. "I Won't Give Up" begins to play.
The words to the song flow through my head as I begin to tie my tennis shoes. I refuse to let him stop me. Little does he know I won’t give up either. I drop the pictures in my purse and throw it over my shoulder with a mission to get the fuck out of here.
The music is ridiculously loud the closer I get to the kitchen. He's watching me when I walk past him and straight for the front door. I wait for him to follow to stop me, but he doesn't even try.
Reaching for the doorknob, I realize why he isn't concerned. This fucking door is locked from the inside too. FUCK.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" I move through the house looking for any other exit, but there isn't one. How in the hell can there only be one way in or out of this huge place? Well I guess with the windows, I have many options, just not any that I'm ready to take yet. He had to build his house on the second floor with the entire bottom floor being a garage. That's probably part of his plan to keep someone 'safe'.
The cast iron lamp catches my attention. If I break a window maybe it will cause a commotion and I can scream for help before he stops me. I take the lamp and rip it from the outlet. I don't even bother with the shade before I chunk it toward the window that runs the full length of the living room.
I prepare myself for the sound of glass shattering. What I'm not ready for is for the lamp to bounce back and the glass to stay in place.
"WHAT THE FUCK." Yes I just yelled that twice, because this is pissing me off and I'm irritated that everything I try is a fucking failure.
I feel crazy and it doesn't help when I look at him he's just leaning on the bar in the kitchen with his arms crossed just watching me.
"What are you fucking looking at? Why don't you just take a motherfucking picture of me like this. You can keep it in your bedroom and get off on seeing me like this every fucking day." I'm mad he has me saying fuck so many times, but this is insane.
"I won't need a picture. I plan to see you in person every day."
"So you plan to keep me locked up in prison for the rest of my life?"
"No I plan to keep you safe for the rest of your life."
"You have a sick fucking idea of safe. Have you ever thought I'd be safer away from you?"
"Never." He keeps his distance from me and this I can be thankful for. I'm feeling claustrophobic and on the verge of homicidal. Yes. I'll just kill him in his sleep then I can find something in this house to hammer my way out of here.
His arrogance hasn't stopped. He's confident in the way things are going. I'll need to outsmart his ass if I want to escape.
He's watching me again. I need to remember how transparent I am to him. He reads me well. If I can just stop letting him see my thoughts before I act, maybe I'll be able to get a step in front of him.
I sit on the couch and pull my legs up close to my chest. Folding myself in tight, I try to grasp the depths of deep shit I'm in here.
"Livi, please stop trying to escape. I told you, I know this house is safe, that means exactly that. I spared no expense when building this, and I have no doubts that this is where you need to be."
"Why?" This time my voice is soft. Truly vulnerable to every power he has over me.
"Because I'm falling in love with you." His words pull my face from it's tucked place on my knees. He's not allowed to love me. That was James' job. He loved me and that is all I'll ever need.
"STOP. Don't ever say that again. You can lock me in your house and make me your slave or whatever your fucking plans are, but don't you EVER say it's out of love, you twisted fuck."
"Livi, I promise to one day tell you everything. I hope that you'll understand that I'm doing everything to protect you because I do love you."
"FUCKING STOP. DON'T EVER SAY THAT AGAIN. I MEAN IT. YOU HAVEN'T EARNED THE RIGHT TO SAY THAT."
"Fair enough." His head drops and he moves to the refrigerator to begin pulling out the milk and juice. I watch his body move. He's massive. The tattoos I loved to watch before, now make me angry. I don't want to be attracted to him. He has me so confused. Damn it.
I pull the picture out of my purse that I know is James to remind me to be deathly angry at Liam again. Instead tears rush to my eyes as sadness fills me so quickly I can't even turn my eyes from it quick enough. His face is so happy. He's walking with me over his shoulder. We were in the park one afternoon and he had decided he wanted sex right then, so he scooped me up to haul me out of there. I was protesting the entire way loudly, but not meaning a word of it. The look on his face is one I saw often.
He was my everything. I loved watching the smile on his face, knowing I made him happy. Uncontrollable tears begin to fall. I can't hold back an inhale that makes a noise, giving away my current state.
Liam turns instantly to see my tears. It brings him straight to me just as I was afraid it would. This is just his weird twisted way of acting like he cares.
I refuse to look at him. He doesn't deserve to comfort me when I need it most. Honestly, there's nothing anyone could say or do to bring him back, so there's no need in letting him think he makes me feel better. Besides being a prisoner has me a little selfish in the moment and I don't care what he needs right now.
I turn to walk away and his grip on my arm stops me. It's not rough or really even the slightest bit tight. It's the fact that he's touching me at all that has me angry. How dare he touch me?
"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME." My eyes rip to his. He knows how serious I am the instant we connect. His grip falls from my skin and we stand there looking at each other. I can tell he wants to tell me so much, but he's holding back. That holding back is the reason I'm never going to be able to forgive him for any of this. Even if in the end he's completely innocent and telling me the truth... the fact that he has held information from me can never be forgiven. I need someone that will trust me under all circumstances.
"Livi, please." I wait. I wait for him to say something that will make things better, but he doesn't. He just looks at me. So close to me. He's so fucking close to me. I close my eyes and try to make sense of everything around me. Maybe if I can just follow my instincts in this situation, I'll be able to find clarity.
"Don't close your eyes. You know me. You know I would never hurt you. Feel me, Livi. Feel right here." He touches my chest right above my heart. I still haven't opened my eyes. He's crowding my space, but I do feel him. I want to believe he would never hurt me. I'd love to not have this horrible feeling inside that is urging me to run from his touch. I miss craving it. I'm mad because a part of me is craving it right now.
"Liam. I can't. This is just too much." His hand slides down my body as he pulls it away. This time he lets me walk away. I'm not sure where I'm going, but I need to get away from the powerful presence of Liam. I need to think.
Chapter Thirteen
I find myself in the furthest possible room. The master bathroom. I spend close to an hour sitting on top of the toilet seat, trying to find some logic in everything. Who is Liam? Where did he come from? How did he just stroll into my life and become such a huge pie
ce of it?
I think about his family and how they all seemed like great people. Is there any possible way they could've raised a crazy stalker and not know it? His parents surely would never have allowed that. His brothers... I'm not so sure. One of them looked at me like he would possible join in on the stalk.
I see his cologne on the counter and pull it close before I inhale his scent. Would a stalker smell this good?
Still needing clarity, I decide to take a shower. This is how I conquer writer's block, well, that or a long bath. Maybe the burn of the hot water will help me come up with a plan of action or at least some simplistic thoughts about all of this.
I check the door to make sure it's still locked before I step inside the shower door. It's sad that I can't stop the feeling that I'm being watched. I don't know if that's great intuition or extreme paranoia. Either way, I can't stand it. I'd love for the feeling to go away with this nightmare, but it won’t.
I turn so that the front of my body faces the corner of the shower, away from the door. I feel like this is the best coverage, well that, and the steam that's causing the glass to fog over. Letting the water run until it begins to fade to cold, I wash myself over and over. The soap isn't making the feeling of disgust go away, but I keep applying more in hopes that maybe the fifteenth time it will work.
When the water is officially cold, I have no choice but to turn it off and admit defeat. The shower did not make me have clarity or even wash the feeling of nastiness away from my skin. Sliding out of the shower, I see the mirror is all fogged over. Looking at a cloudy silhouette of myself, I let my fingers linger on the mirror as I write "Why me?" on the mirror.
I use a towel to cover myself and open the door just slightly, listening for any signs of him. He's not in the room and the door is still closed. I use this opportunity to put on my clothes from the day before. I want nothing to do with him and wearing his clothes is by far too close for comfort for me.
Peeking out the crack of the door when I decide to try to see where he is has my heart racing again. Can I not just do this without my body making things worse? It makes me feel jumpy and on edge. Which is only normal I assume, for someone who has just found hundreds of pictures that she was unaware of.
I tiptoe out into the hall. His voice carries, but I can't hear everything he's saying.
"Find him." I stop moving. Maybe I can get some information if he doesn't know I'm here.
"Yes, I know. She's hurt and confused."
"I won't tell her. This investigation must go on, but I need it to be over soon. Jace, I mean so fucking quick."
"That fucker will pay and I want to be the last one he sees, so get his ass and call me the second he's in our possession."
"Yes, he hurt two people that I love. He's fucking gone. They'll never find his body."
"Jace, fucking find him."
"I won’t. I'm not leaving her side until that sick asshole has been found."
"I gave her that option too. If she decides to move, I'll want everyone there for the transport. It will be a huge risk, but if she needs it to feel safe, then that's what we'll do. I'll call in a fucking tank to move her if that's what it takes."
"Yea, thanks brother. I hope to never have to do anything like this for you, but you know I would in a second."
"Okay. I'll call Mom now. Be safe, brother." I try to take small breaths to keep him from hearing me. I'm hidden from his view, so I have no idea if he's on to the fact that I'm listening or not. I can't help but feel better after hearing him talk to Jace. I'm just hoping it isn't too good to be true. If Liam didn't do this, who did?
"Mom, I'll be locked up until the boys find him."
"Yeah, we have everything we need."
"She's scared and feels violated, just like anyone would."
"Hell, she found the pictures. I didn't have to tell her anything. Of course, she thinks I took them."
"I'll try to talk to her again, but I don't care what it takes, she's staying here with me until the guys find him."
"Mom, we can't give out any information until we get him. Too many people in danger and I need it to all work perfectly in order to stop this shit."
"Love ya too, and I promise to keep her safe."
"I know you like her. Hell, I'm pretty fond of her too."
"It's not the time to talk about grandbabies, Mom. I seriously doubt it'll be me giving you the first one, so start on the others. Just wait until we finish this case if you don't mind."
"Alright, I need to go check on her now." I take this as my cue to tiptoe back into the bedroom, waiting until I made it into the room before I started to run back into the bathroom. Through the mirror I can see him standing in the bedroom trying not to watch me as I start to brush my hair.
"You hungry? I made breakfast. It's cold now, but we can warm it up." I stop brushing to look at him. The sincerity in his expression melts me. I need to follow my heart on this. My heart just seems to go wild for many reasons with him near, so that might be what's confusing me.
"Yes, I'm hungry." He turns to leave me alone and I look at the crazy woman in the mirror. No makeup. My hair is soaked and flat to my head and stringy with a few waves since I can't really style it. I'd love to have a ponytail holder to wrap the mess up into a bun, but I'm guessing he won't have one.
I edge into the awkwardness in the kitchen. He watches me as I move slowly through the area, filling a plate. There's fruit and bagels, but he also made ham and eggs.
"If you don't like any of this, just let me know and I'll get you something you will eat."
"No this is good." I sit at the bar and slowly begin to cut into my food. I catch him watching me again as I eat my first strawberry. Puckering up my lips as I finish biting into it probably wasn't the best idea but, it's just habit.
"Livi, I'm sorry this has happened to you." I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. He looks tired, I wonder if he even slept much last night.
"Can you at least tell me who brought the pictures to you?"
"My guys did."
"You have guys?"
"Yes."
"Can you elaborate just a little?"
"Not much. I run a private investigation firm."
"How did you find out about me?"
"I found you while investigating this case." The realization that our meeting wasn't as accidental as it seems disappoints me. That means everything we've done happened because he set it into motion.
"How long?" I want to know how long he's been watching me. How long have I lived my life as if I was the only one who knew where I was, only to be fooled because at least two others always knew where I was?
"For awhile." I bow my head, knowing he's about done answering any of my questions.
"Why you? Why aren't you out there trying to finish up the investigation?" He smiles, like he'd love to have an answer, but he doesn't.
"When you want to make sure a job is done, you do it yourself. Plus, I know my guys can handle that job, I don't want anyone else handling this one."
"So I'm a job?" His playful expressions are back. It's hard not to smile when he looks like that.
"How would you like me to answer that?"
"Very carefully." I smile back. I can't help but feel more relaxed since I overheard his conversations on the phone earlier. His story seems believable, at least the pieces that I'm hearing.
"You're something that I'd love to do everyday, so I guess that makes you the best kind of job." He moves to the sink with his plate. I read all the words in his tattoo as the muscles in his back flex with every move he makes.
Ezekiel 25:17
The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy
my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.
The words cover most of his upper back and it's impossible to miss it. I haven't paid much attention to it until now. Come to think of it, I haven't seen this side of him naked yet.
The curve of his ass is visible in those sweatpants. There's no doubt he hits the gym frequently because he's built in all the perfect places. Damn him. He shouldn't look like this. I shouldn't want to run my hands over each letter of that tattoo after what I've been through today. But I do.
"I walked into that one." He continues to work until everything is clean. I continue to stare. When he begins to dry the counter off, I take my plate to the sink to rinse it. He's actively cleaning all the areas near me without ever touching me and I wonder if he can feel me like I feel him.
Turning off the water, I stretch for a towel to dry just out of reach. We touch. It's the first time I've touched him since this morning. He's touched me, but it's the only time I let myself willingly get close enough to him to make contact.
My skin burns where it brushed across his. He stops moving and stays like a statue, waiting for me to rush away. When I don't, he lets his arms fall slowly to his sides. I straighten my body and now we're standing next to each other, so close I can feel the heat from his body heating mine.
He uses his hands to pull my hips toward him, bringing me face to face with his massive chest. My eyes focus on his tattoo saying 'Stay Strong' laid out over the right side of his chest and I find it at perfect height to remind me to do just that. I wonder what the meaning behind all of his tattoos is.
I let my body take over and just do what I know deep down I truly want to do. It's when I finally wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head on his chest that I finally feel the weight lift from my body. His huge arms come around me as he wraps me up in the perfect embrace.
His lips land on my forehead and he leaves them there while we let time simply pass. The feel of his touch when he starts to slowly move his arms over my body. It's as if he needs to touch every inch of my body with his hands. I let him roam because honestly, I've never felt more alone than I did just an hour ago.
