by Hamel, B. B.
“What am I going to do here?” I asked softly, breaking his concentration.
He looked over at me while moving the risotto, adding water a bit at a time.
“What do you mean?”
I gestured around me. “This place, what am I supposed to do here? I have no phone, no Internet, no books. Just that crappy TV.”
He frowned. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“I know you didn’t. But if you want me to stay here, you can’t just leave me alone to stare at the TV all day long.”
“You’re right. Tomorrow, we’ll figure that all out.”
I nodded, and I felt a little better. At least he was willing to listen to me. He went back to cooking and I went back to watching him intently, the way he moved with practiced and precise steps. The smells from the cooking food began to overwhelm my stubbornness, and by the time he had everything plated and out in front of me, I knew that I wasn’t going to hold out much longer. My stomach growled and it looked incredible.
“Go ahead, dig in. Want some wine?”
I nodded. “Just one glass though.”
He popped the cork out of a bottle while I forked some risotto into my mouth. It was incredible: smooth and rich and creamy, and the mushrooms gave it a rich finish.
“Holy shit this is good,” I said through a mouthful.
He sat down across from me, placing two glasses down on the table.
“Yeah, I know.”
I rolled my eyes at his modesty as I tucked into it, realizing how incredibly hungry I had been.
“So why only one glass?” he asked.
I looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“When I asked about the wine, you specified ‘one glass.’”
That surprised me. I didn’t think he’d notice, let alone put any importance on it. I sat back and shrugged.
“I’m an addict. Alcohol isn’t my drug, but I’m pretty strict with myself anyway.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I figured it was something like that. Sober how long?”
“Two years.”
He laughed softly and shook his head. “Ellie the addict kindergarten teacher.”
I gave him a look. “Yeah, and you’re Liam the violent asshole mobster who takes care of his little brother.”
He raised his glass and sipped. “Pretty much.”
“Since we’re sharing, what’s the deal with Richie’s mom?”
“Addict, except she doesn’t have her shit under control. I help out because otherwise the kid would probably be on the streets.”
“He’s so much younger than you are.”
“My dad got around, I guess. Who knows how many other bastards he has.”
I laughed at that, and it felt good. I sipped the wine, amazed at the way the rich taste mingled with the risotto’s flavor. It was almost annoying how delicious his food was.
“Is that how you got into all of this?” I asked him.
He nodded. “You could call it a family business. My dad’s dad and his dad going back at least a few generations were all in the Mob. Though it was pretty different, back in the day.”
“Why? I mean, what you do is . . .” I trailed off, not sure what to say.
“Wrong?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“Yeah, wrong. Illegal. And immoral.”
He sipped his drink and took a bite, not answering right away. I let him gather himself, finishing off my plate in the process. Finally, he looked up and shrugged.
“There will always be bad men out there, Ellie. There will always be drugs and drug addicts. At least with us, we’re up front about it, we play by rules. We don’t just hurt people to hurt people. We do the things that would get done anyway, but in a less violent way.” He paused and looked away. “At least, it used to be that way, before the new boss took over. We aren’t good, but we’re necessary. We did the things nobody else wanted to do, nobody else could do. And we take care of our own.”
“The new boss?”
He looked back at me, his striking eyes drilling into mine. “Colm Brennan. The old boss had some problems a while ago, and the Right People have been in chaos ever since. Colm stepped into the power vacuum and took over.”
“But you don’t like him.”
“He thinks the Mob needs to change, needs to evolve. In the old days, we’d never kill someone like you. But that’s the sort of thing Colm thinks we need to become.”
“And what do you think?” I asked softly.
“I think if we go down that path, we’re gone. Whatever was letting us cling to our humanity will be lost.”
I let that sink in as he started to eat again, finishing off his plate and his glass of wine. I swirled my own glass absently, looking at its thick red liquid swirling around the center. It reminded me of my addict days, back in college. My drug back then had been cocaine, and I’d never really had much of an issue with alcohol, but it was still smart to be careful. I glanced up at Liam and took in his gorgeous face, and suddenly I realized that of all the drugs in the city, he was the one I had to be most careful of. I knew it would be too easy for me to lose myself in him, especially since he was my only lifeline to the world outside the safe house.
“So you’re a good bad guy,” I said softly.
“There are some very, very bad people in the Mob. But there are also some people that still believe in honor among thieves.”
I smiled softly and put my glass back down on the table. He looked at me for a second. The quiet settled down on us, deep because the house was so empty, but it didn’t feel awkward. Really, it was full of questions. But more than all that, it was full of exhaustion. I felt like I was ready to fall out of my seat, and it was only seven or eight.
“Long day,” he said.
“Yeah, really long day.”
He looked concerned. “You want to turn in?”
I shrugged. “I guess. I have nothing to sleep in.”
His face lit up and he grinned. “Actually, I took care of that.”
I watched, curious, as he stood up and walked over to a brown paper bag sitting on the floor next to the kitchen counter. I had assumed it was another bunch of groceries. He picked it up and carried it over, holding it out for me to look inside. His grin was boyish and sincere, and it made me almost forget that he was a violent criminal. I looked over the bag’s rim and saw a stack of clothes inside.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Clothes for you, at least for the next day or two. Some comfortable stuff in there, too.”
“Where’d you get it?”
His face dropped. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, I was just—”
“It’s fine,” he said, cutting me off. “I bought it while I was out.”
I looked at him curiously, not sure what to make of that. Then I took the bag from him. The smile returned, though not as big. It was endearing, how hard he was trying to make me feel comfortable, and in any other situation I would have been completely won over. As it was, I could barely focus on anything, let alone the feelings bubbling below the surface every time I looked at him for too long. It was pure desire, and I knew it, but I wasn’t ready to let myself really feel it.
He moved back into the kitchen, taking our plates with him.
“I’ll wash up. You can have the bedroom upstairs. I’ll sleep down here.”
I watched silently for a minute as he began to clean off the dishes, and then I stood, grabbing a towel. As he washed, I dried, and we worked together in a comfortable silence. Finally, when we were done, I grabbed the bag full of clothes and walked upstairs while he went out to his car to get some more things.
Upstairs, I dumped the bag on the bed and started going through the stuff. It was mostly T-shirts and jeans, surprisingly in my size, and a pair of comfortable pajamas, plus some underwear and a clean bra. I couldn’t believe that he got stuff that might fit, more or less, since he had nothing to go off of. I sighed, pulling off my shirt.
There was a mirror hanging on one wall, and I looked at myself in it: haggard, exhausted, and unkempt. My hair was a mess, and it was clear that I had been crying earlier from the red rims around my eyes. I shook my head, finding it hard to care what I looked like.
As I moved over toward the bed, I heard the door push open.
“Here, I got you some—” he said, and stopped, staring at me.
I looked back and raised an eyebrow. My nipples were slightly erect from the cool bedroom air, and a small smile played on his lips as he took in my full breasts. After a second, he turned away.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were changing.”
Usually, I would have been mortified, but for some reason I was having trouble giving a shit about much. Truthfully, I wanted him to see me. For some reason, because of the day we had, it felt good to be the object of his desire, even if it was by accident. I grabbed a shirt and pulled it over my head.
“Knock next time,” I said.
“Yeah. I just wanted to tell you that I got you a toothbrush and some other toiletries.”
“Thanks.”
He peeked over his shoulder and grinned. “Stuff’s in the bathroom.”
“Okay.”
“If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.”
I looked at him, at his rumpled dress shirt and the muscles it was barely hiding, at the cut of his jaw and his perfect nose, his full lips and excited eyes, and I needed him. I needed him in that second like I hadn’t needed anything in my life. I crossed the room without another word, and he turned to face me, reading my expression.
“Ellie—” he said, but stopped as I wrapped my hands around him, running my fingers through his hair.
He grabbed me by my hips and pulled me close against him, and I let out a small gasp. His strong body was like a life raft for me. Everything was threatening to pull me under, but Liam was the only thing trying to keep oxygen in my lungs.
“I never said thank you,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to.”
I pressed my lips against his and kissed him hard, crushing my mouth against him. I gripped his hair and I felt him press me harder against his body. Our mouths met and tongues touched, his fresh taste filling my mouth, his smell filling my nose, and for the first time in what seemed like years, I felt good. The terror slipped into the back of my mind as he kissed me hard, his hands running slowly up my back. His full lips and rough stubble pressed against my face and I loved it, wanted the slight tickling pain of his strong body. It filled me and I felt weightless, like I was being drawn up above the waves.
After a minute, when we were reaching the point where I knew I’d lose myself, he slowed himself and softly disengaged from me, moving me a few inches away. I could still feel his heat and his taste lingering on my body and lips.
“We shouldn’t,” he said. I could tell he was fighting something. His whole body felt tense and hard.
“I know,” I said.
I was fighting the same thing: pure, unfiltered need.
His hands gripped my hips one more time, and then he let go. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He gave me a look I couldn’t read and left the room, closing the door behind him. I sighed, staring at the space he occupied seconds ago as the fear began to flood me again. I shook my head and walked back over to the bed, shoving the unused clothes to the floor. I climbed into the bed, slipped under the sheets, and closed my eyes. Excitement and exhaustion warred inside me, my body still ringing for Liam but my eyes heavy from the taxing day.
Sooner than I could have guessed, exhaustion won out, and I slipped into sleep.
Chapter Fifteen: Liam
I woke up, my head pounding and my mouth muggy and dry. I groaned, cursing, as I rolled over on the stiff couch. There was a half empty whisky bottle and an empty glass sitting on the coffee table, and the television was still on, playing an early morning news program.
I sat up, clutching my head. What a stupid fucking idea. Getting drunk was not the way I should deal with my issues. I stood up unsteadily and walked into the kitchen. I put on a pot of coffee and looked around. Ellie wasn’t up yet; I wondered how late a kindergarten teacher could sleep. Actually, I wondered how long a traumatized kindergarten teacher could sleep. Pretty long, I decided.
That fucking kiss, though. It had come out of nowhere. Well, no, not nowhere. I had gotten a pretty good view of her perfect tits. I couldn’t decide what had gotten me harder: the way she didn’t seem to care that I was staring at her body, or the way she pressed herself against me and ran her fingers through my hair. I’d been with plenty of girls that threw themselves at me, but none were like her, not a single one of them. She was the first one I wanted more of, not in the sense of fucking again, but in a hungry kind of way. I wanted every inch of her, every position of her, every moment and moan and more.
But it was a bad fucking idea to get involved. I was the only person standing between her and the Mob, and I couldn’t afford to be distracted, not even by her sweet lips biting mine.
I sighed as the coffee finished brewing. I poured myself a mug and let its deep, bitter taste help wake me up. I stretched and checked the oven’s clock for the first time: almost ten-thirty. I narrowed my eyes. How long could a kindergarten teacher really sleep?
I took another sip of coffee, her full breasts running through my mind again. With a soft grunt at the pain throbbing in my skull, I walked out into the living room and stood at the bottom of the steps. I didn’t hear anything upstairs, no water running for the shower or anything. Softly, I climbed the steps, trying to be quiet. I didn’t want her to think I was being a creep, but I also had to make sure that she was okay.
My heart began to hammer when I noticed that her door was left open a crack. I distinctly remembered shutting it after I left her, and I was pretty sure she went right to sleep. Adrenaline mounting, I softly pushed her door open.
The clothes I had gotten her were thrown on the floor, and the sheets were wrinkled and tossed around. It looked like someone had torn through the room, tossing things around at random. I blinked as the realization hit me hard: she wasn’t there.
I moved quickly into the space. “Ellie?” I called out.
The clothes she was wearing were on the bed but there wasn’t anything else to mark whether or not she had gone. Adrenaline flooded through me and I tensed my fists. Had Colm found me so easily? How had they gotten her out right under my nose?
Or, worse, had she run away?
“Ellie?” I called again, louder.
I heard a door down the hall open, and I braced myself.
“Yeah?” she responded, poking her head into the hallway.
I felt myself deflate as relief rushed in to replace my fear. She blinked at me, clearly surprised at the wild look in my eyes.
“Is everything okay?” I asked her, walking out into the hall.
She looked at me sideways. “Yeah, I’m just using the bathroom.”
“Okay, okay, good. I thought . . .” I trailed off, not sure what I thought.
“What, that someone abducted me in the night?”
I shrugged and didn’t answer.
She snorted and laughed. “My hero.”
I gave her a look. “Coffee is on downstairs. Want breakfast?”
“If you made me those eggs again, I think I could die happy.”
I grinned. “Not funny.”
“Very funny. Be down soon.” She moved back into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
The throb in my head returned as I moved back downstairs. I felt stupid and awkward, but I was glad she was still there. I couldn’t stop myself from turning the worse-case scenario over and over in my skull, letting the gory details of that ending penetrate my waking life, and I hated it, hated myself for wallowing in weakness and guilt and anger instead of getting out on the street and fixing things. I wasn’t the kind of man who obsessed, not normally at least; I was the sort who ac
ted, who took action, who did things to fix or save or whatever I was trying to do. But she had done something to me.
Overreaction done with for the morning, I got to work cooking her eggs.
“Where did you learn that, anyway?” she asked, walking into the kitchen.
I looked up from the pot, pulled out of my thoughts. “My mom.”
“She taught you how to cook?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t exactly proud of it, but I was a momma’s boy when I was younger. I decided not to tell her that part.
“My dad wasn’t around much when I was a kid, so I spent a lot of time with my mom. Had to, at least. She taught me how to cook, I think just to give me something to do, keep me out of trouble.”
She smiled. “Were you getting in trouble a lot?”
“Constantly.”
She laughed as I finished cooking her eggs, pouring the creamy yellow goodness out onto a thick piece of toast. I placed the plate in front of her, and then I poured myself a bowl of cereal. We ate in silence for a few minutes, and I wondered what was going through her head. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be her: lost, confused, shoved into a world she knew existed but only in an abstract way. She probably felt like she was living in a fictional world.
I knew I couldn’t shake the feeling of waking up from a dream, but the dream was lingering.
“I need to go out today,” I said, breaking the silence.
She looked up at me. “And I’m supposed to do what?”
“Stay here. Watch TV. I can get you some books if you want them.”
She sighed and didn’t answer, finishing off her eggs.
“I know it’s boring—”
“You don’t know anything,” she snapped.
I frowned. “No, I don’t.”
