Love, Cass

by St. Klaire, Stephanie

  Messages had been coming through for weeks – voicemail, email, you name it. Fear kept her at a distance, only following through with the requests from a distance, trying to gauge just how serious her circumstance was. But, she never saw him or whoever was threatening them. Tonight, she wasn’t going to stand in the shadows. Tonight, she was going to face her past head-on and find out why it was haunting her all these years later. Until Liam showed up.

  She’d never been so confident and scared at one time. A whirlwind of emotions settled over her as she played the night’s highlight reel back in her mind. Liam was right. She was out of her league. It was foolish to go alone, but she couldn’t tell anyone, not yet.

  As she passed the dark alley where she met her would be assailant, Liam, she noticed a man in a dark hood, leaning against a tree that lined the sidewalk. There were a lot of shady people around that area, hiding under hoods and hats, but something stood out with this guy. His face was hidden, but she felt his stare, watching her drive by.

  Great, now she was paranoid, and everyone along that road was out to get her. Thanks, Liam. She didn’t understand him. If he didn’t care, why was he watching her? And following her? He was so disconnected on every single level – as a brother, a son, friend, and father. Sure, he was serious by nature, a true computer nerd at heart, a hot one.

  Felicity cursed herself for seeing and thinking of him that way. He wasn’t hot. He’s a jerk with a giant stick up his ass. That’s what he was. Finally, he reached out with an ounce of concern and seemed to give a crap about something, and he shut it down before they could explore it. Liam O’Reilly was as frustrating as they came.

  Like his brothers, Liam loved fiercely, fought fiercely, albeit from behind a screen and keyboard, and left ladies fanning themselves. That’s where the similarities ended though. Where they were bold, fighters, and total diehards, Liam was gentle, soft spoken, and reserved. His greatest quality was also his worst.

  When times were tough, or tragedy struck, his brothers forged on, turned their disappointment into motivation and fought harder, shooting their weapons and blowing stuff up, taking down bad guys. Liam shut down, unsure what to do with his feelings, and retreated within. He was emotionally broken – heartbroken – and neither he nor anyone else had the key to fixing it.

  Like tonight. He worried about Felicity and had been concerned to the point he took her beating rather than stop her sooner. But the moment it seemed he was going to let her in, he shut down. He’d do anything to keep her at arm’s length, including acting like a first-class ass.

  “Why are you watching me, Liam O’Reilly? Why? You don’t care my ass,” she said in a huff. “Great, and now you have me swearing and talking to myself.”

  Liam hobbled his way on a throbbing knee back to his car. It wasn’t all that far, but the sharp pain and pulsating aches, coursing through him with every step, made it feel like miles. Karma was a selective bitch, and he seemed to be her number one client because when he finally reached his vehicle, there was a drunken man pissing all over the side of his car.

  “Really fucking great,” he said under his breath as he stalked up next to the man.

  It didn’t seem to matter that he was standing there as the vagrant just looked Liam up and down over his shoulder and continued to relieve himself.

  “This your car?” the man slurred, with a little hop as he tucked himself away.

  “The car you just pissed all over? Yeah,” Liam replied. The man reeked of booze and street as he swayed, eyes wide, trying to focus on Liam.

  “Nice ride. Got one myself,” he said, his words garbled.

  If this were Dace or Luke, the conversation would have gone an entirely different direction – no talking, just a few grunts before they did him a favor and pushed him along. They were no bullshit types – and they loved their cars like they loved their women – fast and pretty. Not pissed on.

  “I’m sure you do. If you’re…done, I’d like to leave.”

  “It’s in the shop,” the man said as he staggered away.

  Liam stood staring at the driver’s side of his car, contemplating whether or not he should open the door. Given how his night had gone thus far, there was a good chance there was a reservoir of hobo piss in the door jam, waiting to flood the plush interior of his car.

  “Why does this shit happen to me?” he said, hands in his pocket, leaning in to see if it was safe to open the door or not.

  He threw his hands in the air. “Fuck it. This is what I get for making sure everyone is safe?”

  Walking to the passenger side of his car, he lit up the passenger side door with his cellphone flashlight to make sure he wasn’t about to stick his hand in any bodily fluids. In this part of town, there was no telling what his car faced while he was off, saving Felicity’s ass.

  Felicity was well trained. The pain from his bruised and battered face and body as he gingerly climbed across the seat of his car attested to that. He just hadn’t realized how well. This is her fault, he thought as he climbed over the center console, slipping behind the wheel.

  As a police officer slowed while he passed, Liam offered a wave, earning a nod from the familiar face. “Now it looks like I’m stealing my own car. Why not get arrested? It’s the perfect ending to a shitty night. Uh, yeah. I was stalking my hot employee, and a homeless dude pissed on my rig. Sounds legit.”

  “And now, I’m talking to myself. And I just called her hot. I didn’t mean hot. I meant other men probably think she’s… What the fuck am I doing?” Frustrated, he pulled his car into light traffic while he waited for his GPS to kick in and guide him to the nearest all night, do-it-yourself, coin-op car wash.

  That’s exactly what he wanted to spend his night doing – washing his car in a bad neighborhood, getting mugged, watching five-dollar hand jobs and drug deals go down. Karma was on Felicity’s side tonight. They were both probably laughing at him. That woman is a handful, he thought.

  What had she been up to? What could possibly drag her out at that hour to that part of town? Alone? Portland didn’t host the kind of crime most big cities did, but they had their fair share. Trafficking – humans and drugs – were at the top of the list due to the easy interstate access that ran all the way to Mexico. It wasn’t like her to gamble with statistics and become one.

  If something happened to her… He couldn’t go there. Liam reminded himself that it had nothing to do with how he would feel. It was entirely about his eleven-year-old daughter Reagan. Felicity and Reagan were tight. She watched over Reagan when Liam and his brothers were out of town on missions or when he just couldn’t cope.

  Liam loved his daughter, but the loss of his wife, her mother, put distance between them. That’s where Felicity came in. She helped fill the void and cover things he just couldn’t. He appreciated that, but she was nothing more. The worry he carried when he saw her leave their building, again, was for Reagan, he thought. He followed Felicity to protect his daughter.

  And what was with her attitude, he wondered. She should have been grateful that it was him, looking after her, keeping her safe. But no. She was pissed and couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer a single fucking question.

  As he approached the alleyway where he had his ass handed to him, a man in a black hoodie stepped out in front of his car from the shadowy wayside. Liam slammed on his breaks and horn, stopping only inches from the man in the middle of the road. Looking directly at Liam, his stare could be felt but not seen as his face was obscured by the dimly lit street and shadow cast by the overhanging hood.

  An icy chill coursed through Liam as intuition kicked in, and his gut said to stay right where he was. He sensed trouble, which was common in that part of town. With a swift movement, the man slammed his hands on the hood of Liam’s car before continuing on to the other side of the street.

  This was exactly why Felicity needed to stay away. It wasn’t safe. The night life was unpredictable. And God forbid she track any of this home with her and put all of them a
t risk. She knew better. Something was terribly wrong – he could feel it.

  “Dating someone my lily-white ass. What are you up to, Felicity Nichols, and why the hell am I still talking to myself?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Felicity made it back to Watermark Tower before Liam, which surprised her. She halfway expected him to break every law necessary, just to catch up and tail her home. As straight laced as Liam was, he would bend his own rules to get what he wanted – or get the information he wanted.

  Just because she left him in that dark alley didn’t mean their conversation was over. If anything, it was just the beginning because he was determined. He, like his brothers, was a protector, especially now since losing his wife. He wouldn’t stop until he knew what she was up to.

  Too bad she didn’t even know what she was up to. All she had to go on were a few cryptic messages. If not for Liam, she’d likely have the answers he was searching for, but the fact was, she didn’t. She didn’t know any more than he did at the moment. She just had suspicions. Her gut told her who was looking for her, threatening her. Someone who she thought was long since dead.

  Her past was raising from the grave, and it scared the shit out of her, for the people she cared about most more than for herself. It wouldn’t be easy to keep her suspicions from him, but until she knew what she was facing, she had to keep it to herself. It was too dangerous otherwise. He said he didn’t care, but he did – for his family, for his daughter, if not her. Liam wasn’t going to stop, which meant she needed to play the game harder.

  He’d been watching her, which is code for cyber stalking. She was a hacker too. She knew how this worked, and she knew how he operated. The first thing she needed to do, now that she was back, was get to her office and hide her personal accounts behind layers and layers of coding because she knew the minute he got back, he would be digging in and would find those messages.

  The elevator from the secure parking garage stopped at her floor, which she shared with Liam and his daughter. Watermark Tower was one of the biggest buildings in Portland’s waterfront community, and while the ground level with street access housed businesses, the upper levels were mostly used for Brother’s Keeper Security – the O’Reilly brothers’ high end, elite, security firm.

  Watermark was named appropriately as it served much like a watermark did on a dollar bill or an important document. It was there, but it wasn’t. It looked like a regular building with street access retail and living quarters for several floors above in the middle of a thriving urban community. It was more than that though.

  Brother’s Keeper Security provided anything from personal security to cyber security for the rich and powerful, including off-grid federal agencies who held the largest contract of all. They were hiding in plain sight, didn’t advertise, weren’t publicly discussed or acknowledged, but those who needed them knew where to find them. What or who they protected, or hunted, was limitless.

  As she stepped off the elevator, her phone buzzed, stopping her in her tracks. Felicity closed her eyes and took a deep breath, anticipating the message and its sender. She wasn’t able to follow through and meet him – if it was him. Liam had interfered, and she bolted before anything could happen. It was back to hurry up and wait for the next message – if there was one. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late.

  A brief sense of relief washed over her when she saw that it was only Reagan, Liam’s daughter. That relief quickly became concern when she opened the text message and read, Help, I need you. It had happened; he made good on his promise, somehow gaining access to the building and locating Reagan.

  Fear flooded Felicity to her core as she rushed down the long hall to the first door on the right and punched in the keyless lock code. They were high tech, everything was electronic, even door locks. The idea that something happened to Reagan, despite Felicity’s efforts to protect her, was overwhelming. She’d let them down.

  Inside the expansive apartment, Felicity paused, listening for any sign of trouble…listening for Reagan. Though long past midnight, the lights were on throughout the place. Not a sound could be heard. Taking a deep breath, she dug deep for the confidence she needed to forge ahead and face whatever danger she brought home with her.

  With every step, slow and methodical, she took in her surroundings. Remaining calm was her greatest challenge, but it was also the first thing she was taught to exercise when faced with a crisis. It could mean the difference between life and death. Patience was everything. Reagan had to have been asleep when Liam left. With a building full of O’Reillys, she was more than safe, but that didn’t mean waking to something like this wouldn’t be frightening. The O’Reilly men were used to staring danger in the face, but Reagan wasn’t.

  “City?” came a small voice from the dining room. Reagan. When Reagan was small, she struggled to say Felicity. It came out City and stuck. Everyone called her City – everyone but the warden, Mr. Straight-Laced-and-By-the-Book himself, Liam.

  “Reagan? Where are you honey?” City said in a hushed tone, still not sure what she was about to encounter.

  Looking around the open floor plan, she could see from one side of the large apartment to the other, unobstructed, but didn’t see the little girl she was desperate to find.

  “I-I’m over here.” The little girl sniffled.

  Following the sound of her small voice, City rushed toward the kitchen and found Reagan, sitting on the floor, hugging her knees with tears in her eyes.

  Kneeling in front of Reagan, Felicity put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, looking her over as she asked, “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Tell me, baby. What’s wrong? Did…did someone hurt you? What’s happening?”

  Before Reagan could answer, Felicity was on her feet, looking around, trying to find clues – to what, she didn’t know. When she looked back down, her eyes were met with a look of confusion before Reagan looked around, as City did, trying to figure out what she was looking at or looking for.

  “Are-are you okay, City?” Reagan questioned, now filled with her own concern.

  Awareness set in, and City took a seat next to Reagan. “Yeah. I mean, are you? I thought something was wrong. Your text worried me. What’s going on?”

  “I woke up, and…”

  “Your dad was gone? You were scared? You know your uncles are here, right? This place is like Fort Knox. No one can get in unless they are supposed to be here – it’s the safest place in Portland.” Patience was thin and emotions high as City ran down the list of what’s, when’s and how’s, filling in the blanks where Reagan didn’t fast enough for her liking.

  All signs pointed to an overreaction. Obviously, there wasn’t anyone in that apartment. Adrenaline still held the wheel though, and City was trying to regain control, if not for the little girl, then to reassure herself.

  “Why are you acting so weird?” Reagan asked, a puzzled look matching her tone.

  “Oh. Uh, nothing. I just thought – I thought your message was – you asked for help so…”

  “You were worried?”

  “I was, Reagan. I thought something had happened.”

  “In Watermark? With all of my Uncles here? Are you sure you’re okay, City?”

  Bending down to kiss the top of Reagan’s head, City took to the girl’s side and wrapped an arm around her. “I am now, kiddo. So, tell me, what do you need help with?”

  “Oh.” Reminded that there was a small personal crisis looming, Reagan looked to her feet. “I have a…problem. One I couldn’t call my uncles for or dad.”

  “Okay, so what is it? What could be so bad this late at night?” City teased.

  “I, uh…uh. Started my uh…” she began, looking to City, wide eyed and blushed cheeks. “I woke up with a stomach ache, and it wasn’t…a stomach ache.”

  “Oh? Ohhhh. You mean your uh…” City waved an aimless finger in front of Reagan, trying to decide what to say next. She knew this day would come and was fast approaching, but nothing could have prepared he
r for the late-night discovery of Mother Nature and her bad timing.

  “Yeah.” Reagan hiccupped. “I can’t tell dad. Plus he won’t know what to do – he’s a boy and only knows about computers.”

  “Well, we will need to let him know, but we can handle the rest. We have everything we need – easy peasy. Okay?”

  Because the night had plenty of room to get worse, and bad timing seemed to be Liam’s thing, City assumed she was being played by the universe when Liam walked in on their conversation.

  Not expecting to see Felicity and Reagan sitting on the dining room floor huddled together, he stalled where he stood, worry setting in when he saw the late-night tears his daughter wore.

  “What happened? What’s going on?” he questioned, only mildly containing his panic before looking to Felicity with a hard stare. “What did you do?”

  She took to her feet, feeling the sharp edge of his words cutting her. “What do you mean, what did I do?”

  He looked between his daughter and Felicity for a moment, both seeming offended. “She’s – crying. What? What happened? Are you hurt Reagan?”

  Concern was something Liam wore like a vest since his wife passed years ago, but a nurturing nature didn’t come with it. He was standoffish, lukewarm at best, emotions bundled up tight and bundled deep.

  “Reagan has a personal issue. We’re dealing with it and will fill you in when it’s…appropriate,” Felicity offered, hands on hips.

  “She’s my daughter. You’ll tell me now. What the hell is going on? A personal matter? She’s eleven.”

  With a challenging stare and raised brow as if she was trying to get Liam to read between the lines, so as not to embarrass his emotional daughter, Felicity said, “She’s almost twelve, a tween. Kids her age, girls, have personal issues that aren’t – dad friendly.”

  “Are you kidding me? Personal issues? Until she’s eighteen, her issues are my issues. Someone needs to start talking,” he demanded.