by Sienna Mynx
Vasquez shook his head. “He hasn’t seen her yet. Tomorrow, maybe.”
“Well he needs to see her soon. Senator Clayton is making a big stink over his release. You know his concerns. Liam could be a security risk.”
“Not possible. You and I both know this, Alexa.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not. But there’s more. Sarkhir knows he’s alive.”
“How?” Vasquez said.
“We’ve gotten intelligence. So far it points to an active a cell in West Virginia. It may not mean anything. It may mean everything. Clayton thinks we needs to contain Liam, and I think the vice president agrees.”
“Fuck. My boy has been through enough.” Vasquez rubbed the back of his head.
“Exactly. We have to think of the men and women out there now with their lives on the line. Liam is too important. They want me to bring him back in. Weeks. A few months, tops, and then he can go public.”
Vasquez stepped to Alexa and lowered his voice. “Delay it.”
“Huh? I can’t.”
“You and I both know you can. Use someone else. The man has lost five years of his life. He hasn’t even met his daughter. You get the administration off his back. I’ll keep him here. Trust me, between us, we can contain this together.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“You owe him your life. We both do. He’s in a lot of pain, Alex, and you can do something about it. Delay it. Give him a chance to heal his family, for fuck’s sake.”
She looked up at the stairs. Alexa sighed. Vasquez hoped she would turn and walk out. Do something selfless, act the way she had when they’d all first met.
“He has two weeks. I can give him until Christmas. Then he’s coming in. Sorry, Ant, but I love him too, and I won’t let the senator or any desert rat-bastard terrorist get a second chance at him.” She spun on her heel and left.
Vasquez closed and locked the door. He could feel his wife’s heated glare warm his back. He turned and found her closer than he’d expected.
“First thing tomorrow you take him to see Kennedy. First thing, Anthony, or I will tell her myself, so help me God.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“You’re right. They need to see each other. Tomorrow, first thing. Now damn, Angelina, I’ve missed you, missed our kids. Can I get a little peace? It’s been hell these past months keeping this to myself.“
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. She went to his arms and hugged him.
At the top of the stairs, Liam listened to the entire exchange. And even though Alexa and his boy had spoken in heated whispers, he heard enough to know that Sarkhir would use his family against him if he had to. Liam would have to get to Kennedy and protect them. So tomorrow was the day. After years of dreaming the moment, it would be reality. He’d see her again.
Turning on his cane, he limped as quietly as he could to the guest room.
Chapter Six
Liam lay flat on his back. His left arm was pinned behind his head; the sheets were a tangled twist around his waist. He still found it strange to sleep in a bed. So he didn’t sleep at all. The room they offered him was next door to the twins’. Liam had a chance to talk to the boys before they turned in. They questioned him about who he was and why he’d made their mommy cry. Before he knew it, Ant appeared beside him. He nodded for Liam to tell. He confessed and told them that he was Mackenzie’s father. He smirked to think that Sarkhir and his men could learn a thing or two about interrogation from these tykes.
The Vasquez boys’ response to his resurrection was immediate. Mackenzie had always called him a hero but they’d never believed it. They did now.
This revelation shocked and calmed his fears in a way he couldn’t put into words. So his little girl had mentioned him? Kennedy hadn’t erased him from their child’s life. He should have known better than to think she would. But the relief he carried was short-lived. It only pained him more to know he’d missed so much of his little girl’s growth. How would he ever make up for his absence?
Liam adjusted to the quiet of the Vasquez house. He heard Angelina and his friend arguing. Vasquez’s voice rose above hers and then there was quiet. Damn, he missed the days when he and Kennedy would spar and then she’d let him think he won. He’d give anything to fight with her now.
Then again, maybe not. Their reunion would certainly be painful. Far too painful to look forward to.
Liam focused on the splotchy patterns in the speckled ceiling until his vision blurred. The meal Angelina had brought to his room—pot roast, potatoes, and creamed corn with fresh rolls—remained on the dinner tray untouched, though he knew she’d give him hell for it in the morning. He’d spent the remainder of the night thinking, and the more thinking he did, the more desperate and alone he felt. Desperation always dredged up memories he hated. Every one of them got compared with the day he’d felt the most desperate, the day his little sister had died.
He’d fled the hospital when the machines were turned off. He had to escape the wails of agony from his mother and the flat stare of his disinterested stepfather. He’d driven aimlessly around the streets of Chicago in a daze. He’d gone home, stumbled to her room, and spent the remainder of the day lying in his kid sister’s bed, thinking of the hopelessness in a world where a five-year-old girl could suffer the way she had. He thought of all the things his baby sister would never do, see, be. He thought of time, and how it seemed more a punishment than a gift. Everything born would die. Why love or put your faith in another, when fate was so random?
It was his earliest, most closely-held truth, and it had become true again with his love for Kennedy. He should have known that even their love could be fleeting. He should have known that every mission was a chance he’d never see her again. But he’d been too arrogant and pumped up on his cause to treasure time.
Liam had made mistakes with Kennedy. From the start, he’d fucked up. She had been a kid when she’d trailed him around party to party in her silly attempts to get his attention, constantly finding reasons to be in his space. Kennedy’s mother was right when she said he wasn’t worthy, that he’d only break her heart. But Kay was so certain they were destiny, and he was so desperate for the kind of love she offered. Pure, as unconditional as you could get. And even as he told himself they were not going to happen, he’d become desperate to be worthy of Kennedy’s love, just as he had been desperate to hold on to the little sister he couldn’t keep from slipping away.
On the day of his sister’s death, before his mother returned from the hospital with the abusive bastard she’d married, Liam packed his meager belongings and took the keys to their spare Toyota Corolla. He drove out of Chicago with two hundred eleven dollars in his pocket, headed for New Jersey and his cousin Heath. Running had been good, and his parents gave more of a shit about the missing car than they had about him.
Now, who’d care if he walked away? Would Kennedy? He wasn’t her hero anymore. He’d returned broken, crippled, angry, desperate, and confused. Half a man at best. His little girl would be disappointed to know that heroes didn’t exist.
Fuck running. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a fucking coward. Kennedy had been his anchor. She kept him from drowning, gave him a purpose. He’d been a better man for loving her. She’d given up, but that didn’t mean he should. How could he, when she truly was his one and only love?
***
Kennedy awoke with a gasp. She’d been dreaming of Liam again. More specifically, she’d been dreaming of sex with Liam, which filled her with a sense of safety, of warmth, as well as unyielding guilt. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to think of him; she just didn’t want to do it while lying next to Phil, and definitely not after they’d made love. Screwed. Whatever.
She peeled back the comforter and slipped stealthily from the bed. Phil groaned but didn’t wake, which was just as well. She didn’t feel like talking. Turning for the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of Phil as he rolled to his back, asleep with both
his legs and his mouth wide open. Kennedy bit her lip, then grabbed her robe and slippers and tiptoed out into the hallway and down the stairs to the den. There, she curled into her favorite chair. It was a plush recliner, the first item of real furniture she and Liam had. They’d bought it together at Montgomery Ward. She’d never loved the color, but it had been on sale, and they’d spent many a night squeezed together in its depths while they watched a late-night movie until they fell asleep. Kennedy had sense enough not to tell Phil the chair’s origins, only that it would always be her favorite piece of furniture. For that reason alone, he tolerated it.
Kennedy tucked her feet underneath her and pulled the lavender chenille throw up over her breasts. She leaned back and let out a slow breath, remembering a stolen summer night on the beach in Montauk, at the very eastern end of Long Island, and closed her eyes.
***
August 9th, 1994
“So what do you plan to do? Sit here and stare at him, or say something?”
“Quiet. He might hear you.” Kennedy elbowed her friend.
“Ouch!” Sierra squealed.
The flashing flames from a beach bonfire separated her and Sierra from the others, particularly Liam. The scene had been mostly kids too old for high school but too young and rich to care about their futures. Notorious Big’s hit song Big Poppa blasted from the sound system of a guy named Jeff’s supped up Nissan 300 and several girls were dry humping their guys. Kennedy had convinced her parents to allow her to take the last days of summer break with the Schoensteins in the Hamptons. She neglected to mention Mrs. Schoenstein had been so busy with the affairs of the season, she barely noticed the girls. And that meant freedom Kennedy was never afforded at home.
The week had been fabulous. They’d frequented nightly beach parties in search of Liam. Last night, Kennedy actually got close enough to get Liam to talk. He called her a spoiled little rich girl and teased her mercilessly. Sierra later pointed out to her his words might have been blowing her off, but he glared down any guy that glanced her way when she stood next to him. Kennedy believed her.
Everybody stepped aside when Liam walked through. He was big, but he wasn’t a bully. In fact, he didn’t talk or mingle much. People sort of drifted to him. Liam possessed this quiet presence about him. It commanded respect from others. Kennedy thought he couldn’t be more awesome. Beyond perfection. She had to have him, whatever that meant.
In two more days she’d be headed back home. It was now or never, so she and Sierra devised a bulletproof plan. It started with Heath. Sierra flirted with Heath and dropped hints that Kennedy was nineteen and interested. Liam seemed to notice her a little more after that. He’d even spoken to her tonight when they first showed up. He’d also watched her, too, from across the fire.
“Go on over there. Ask him if he wants to go for a walk,” Sierra urged.
“Don’t rush me,” Kennedy said between clenched teeth.
“Here, drink this.”
Sierra thrust a red plastic cup at her. Without thinking, Kennedy accepted the drink. She gulped down the punch too fast and the bitter alcohol seared her throat. She began to gag and cough. Sierra laughed, and patted her shoulder blades. When she looked up past the flames of the fire she saw Liam watching her. He wore a sly smile, too. She was mortified. So she tried to be cool and drink the rest without incident. Wow, she hated alcohol. Thankfully, the buzz she got had been instant. Her head swam a little and she giggled. Her mother would kill her if she knew.
“He’s looking,” Sierra whispered, giving her another nudge.
“I know,” Kennedy glanced up at him and when he didn’t look away, she smiled.
“The time is now. Take the blanket and go ask him to go for a walk. Do it,” Sierra urged.
Kennedy had confided in her friend that she wanted Liam to be the one. Sierra had chosen Chauncey to be her ‘one’ last spring break, so she definitely understood. From the moment Kennedy saw Liam, he had been all she could think about, talk about, dream about. So Sierra did some checking around. He didn’t sell drugs like Heath. He worked the shipping docks in Newark and just hung out with his cousin and the uptown crowd, since Heath was every preppy’s downtown drug connection. Sierra thought Heath used Liam as muscle to scare the other guys from trying to jack him or something. But the rumors of Liam fighting or punching out guys over cigarettes proved to be lies.
None of it mattered much to Kennedy. She only had one question about Liam Flanagan she needed answered. And she soon learned the truth. Liam didn’t have a girlfriend.
Kennedy picked up the rolled blanket and got to her feet. She’d chosen a yellow sweater over a white sundress for her first time. She liked the way it tightly fit her waist and draped off her hips. Sierra said from behind it swayed a little and flattered her bubble-butt booty. She added large silver hoop earrings and they swayed a bit when she walked. She’d washed her hair and let it air dry, then curled and teased it into a puff. Her mom hated when she wore her hair this way, calling it messy, but Sierra said it showed more of her face and looked hip. She hoped it made her look older. The truth was, she had only turned seventeen two weeks ago.
Kennedy circled the fire. With each step, her feet sank into the sand, it slowed her approach. Only a few faces looked up. Liam’s didn’t. Swallowing her nervousness, she stepped behind him and glanced across at Sierra through the flames. Sierra nodded encouragingly. Kennedy did as they’d practiced. She dropped her voice to a low, seductive whisper in his ear.
“Liam. Wanna go for a walk with me?”
Kennedy held her breath and clutched the blanket. Liam stood. He took her hand and pulled her away. Kennedy looked back once to see Sierra’s wide grin. She wanted to wave, but played it cool.
They walked down the beach, away from the others. The wind blew under the hem of her dress. Forceful gusts pushed the fabric up high on her thighs. There were too many clouds to see the stars or the moon. But Kennedy’s eyes adjusted quickly to the night.
Liam didn’t speak at first and she was too nervous to think of a witty comment. When they were far enough away they couldn’t hear the music, Liam stopped. He looked to his left. A beach pavilion under a malfunctioning street lamp could be seen. Dark and vacant, it was adjacent to an empty parking lot. Liam then swung his gaze behind him, and Kennedy’s eyes followed his. The distance proved far enough to reduce the bonfire to a speck of orange.
“We can chill here, or up there. Your choice,” he said.
“Here is fine,” she said softly. “Anywhere is fine with you.”
She thought he frowned at her. But she couldn’t see much of his face in the shadows under his cap. He shook his head and took the blanket from her. He tried to spread it out over the sand but the wind kept lifting the tail end. So Kennedy dropped down to her knees to help.
“Fuck it. Let’s go up there. This is too windy,” said Liam.
“Okay.” Kennedy agreed readily. In the movies it would be different. In the movies, the moon would be full in the sky and the stars twinkling. The sexy hero would lay out the blanket as waves broke over the sand in a white, sudsy foam. In the movies, the guy would pull you down on the blanket and then shower you with kisses and profess his unending devotion before he made love to you under the stars. It would all be so serene and romantic.
But it wasn’t quite so for her tonight. The wind blew cold, tiny grains of sand that stung her eyes and the salty aroma of the ocean burned her nostrils and throat. She sneezed. Liam grunted, and marched off. He walked ahead of her. He wasn’t holding her hand. Kennedy hurried to catch up to him. She kept looking up at him, wanting to say something, but everything she thought to say sounded dumb.
They climbed the wooden steps and walked over the small bridge to the picnic pavilion.
“So what’s up with you, rich girl? Why are you out here?”
“Partying like you.”
Liam chuckled. “You’re not partying. I’ve seen you. You don’t drink, you don’t smoke buddah, hell, you do
n’t even dance. Heath said you just recently started hitting the spots with Sierra. He said you were probably out here vacationing—”
“You asked him about me?” Kennedy’s heart skipped a beat.
“What is it? You hate your parents or something? Trying to piss them off?”
“Huh?” Kennedy asked, confused.
He stopped under the pavilion. The picnic table was clear of debris. He spread the beach blanket over it. She watched. Did she hate her parents? She loved her daddy. He was the best father and he treated her like gold. And her little sister Harper was a pain, but she loved her too. It was her mother she could never please. But she didn’t hate her.
“No, I don’t hate my family.”
Liam grabbed her by the waist and lifted her to the table. Kennedy couldn’t help but smile. He had such strong hands. He was so cute, too. She wished he didn’t have his blue baseball hat with the red C in the middle pulled down so far on his brow. She wished she could see his eyes. She scooted over and he sat on the table with her. They stared out at the ocean. It was dark, and a little spooky, but Kennedy wasn’t afraid.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“About leaving,” he said, his voice somber and remote.
Kennedy’s heart began to race. Was he serious? He’d just got there. Hell, it was only eight-thirty. “Why?”
Liam just stared ahead. Kennedy had to think of something to say. Her plan wouldn’t work if she came off naive or inexperienced, which she was. “Where do you want to go tonight?”
“Not talking about tonight. Just leaving period. And I don’t know yet. Just somewhere. Ever get the feeling that there’s something out there for you? Somewhere you belong?”
“Yes,” she lied. She didn’t usually worry about any world other than the familiar, the world of her parents. But with Liam she could imagine anything. He cast her a look that said he didn’t believe her.
