Infinite Possibilities

The Secret Life of Amy Bensen - 2

by

Lisa Renee Jones

Chapter One

Raw and honest.

That is what Liam Stone claimed he wanted from me, but that is not what he gave me. He lied to me. He hurt me. And still, some crazy, stupid part of me clings to the idea that there could be a logical explanation for what I overheard between Derek and him last night. That same part of me that saw him as my hero, willing to fight my proverbial Godzilla. But he was never truly my hero, and after a sleepless night in the Cherry Creek Inn, I have faced reality. I cannot risk trusting him, or anyone else for that matter, at least not until I confront the past someone wants me to forget. That means leaving Colorado and the persona of Amy Bensen, and heading to Texas, which is exactly what I’m working on now.

Entering the downtown Denver pawn shop on a typical gust of Colorado wind, I swipe my long blonde hair from my face, and glance around the open space where unattended glass display shelves are arranged in a T-shape. Silence seems to be my only companion, but the all too familiar sense of being watched has me fighting the urge to turn and leave, with good reason. This is where the guy at the flea market, the one who’d made a joke of a fake ID for me, told me I can obtain the kind of high quality product that will allow me to disappear. And while I’ve lived in a bubble, allowing myself to know far too little about why and who I’ve been running from these past six years, I am crystal clear on Liam Stone’s money and power. He will hunt me down and he will find me if I don’t cover my tracks.

Glancing at the huge, black-rimmed clock on the wall to my left that reads high noon, I comfort myself with the idea that the staff must be in a back room eating lunch. Perhaps they are watching me on camera, but if so, why not come out and greet me?

“Hello?” I call out, hugging myself and feeling awkwardly underdressed in the too skimpy white shorts and red tank I’d bought at Walmart right after my dinner-turned-disaster with Liam the night before. I hate that I can’t go back to my apartment for my things without him, and who knows who else, finding me. Of course, most of ‘my’ things are items Liam bought anyway. Once I’m ready to disappear, I’ll pull my money from my old New York account and purchase some more basics that really feel like mine. Correction. Once I’m capable of disappearing. I’m ready now.

Determined to do what I’m here for and leave, I move further inside the store, silently praying the twenty bucks I gave the cab driver is enough to ensure he waits for me. “Hello?” I call again, but my answer is more silence.

Seconds continue to tick by and I am feeling increasingly uneasy. I consider walking into the back room, but considering the kind of operation this is supposed to be, I think better of that idea. Deciding to step outside, check on my cab and regroup, I turn toward the exit.

“Señorita.”

At the sound of the heavily accented voice, I rotate to find it belongs to a rapidly approaching, fifty-something burly man with a thick beard as gray and wiry as his longish hair. “I was looking for Roberto,” I say quickly, hoping this scruffy-looking stranger isn’t him yet hoping he is my answer to freedom in the same moment.

By the time the question is out, the man is in front of me, a mere few steps separating us, the scent of cigarettes wafting off of him, his jeans and t-shirt wrinkled and worn. “I am Roberto,” he declares and I am too discomfited by his nearness to be relieved I have found the man who is supposed to help me. He reaches out and lifts a strand of my long, blonde hair and it is all I can do not to shrink away from him as he adds, “My man said you were brunette.”

It takes all I have in me not to knock his hand away. “Wig,” I say, tugging my cheap, oversized purse I’d bought this morning in front of me and between us. “I brought it with me.”

“For a quick change of identity,” he comments. “Smart Mammi.”

I do not know what ‘Mammi’ means, but after the horrid ID his man at the flea market had made me, I agree it was smart. My last minute decision to toss the bottle of hair color means that, given a worst case scenario, I can still pass with my Amy Bensen photos.

He tugs roughly on the strand of my hair in his fingers before dropping his hand. “$2500.”

I gape. “What? No. I was quoted $500.”

“You need to disappear badly enough to want two hair colors. That means you need the best identification I can make you. That runs $2500.”

“I don’t have $2500. What do I get for $500?”

“Nothing. You were quoted wrong.”

My gut knots. My wig and hair color have somehow revealed the desperation I had coolly concealed from the other man. “I don’t have that much.”

“Well, then,” he says, his lips thinning, “use your flea market ID.” He turns away, dismissing me.

“No,” I say quickly, all too aware that the fake ID made this morning won’t get me through a grocery line, let alone airport security. “Wait.” He faces me again, arching a dark brow in a silent question. “I have $700.”

“$2500.”

My mind races, calculating how much I will have left to survive with if I go higher. I settle on a firm, “$1500. That is all I have.”

His gaze rakes up and down my body, then returns to my face and I feel as if I’ve been raped. “Perhaps we can barter,” he suggests. “You give me something I want. I give you something you want.”

My heart lodges in my throat. I want to survive. I want answers. I want to make Amy Bensen disappear but not like this. Not like this. “No, I–”

“Yes,” he counters and his hands come down on my shoulders.

Panic rushes over me and a wild, intense rush of adrenaline spikes through my blood. I shove his hands away. “No!”

He grabs my wrists. “It will be good for you, I promise.”

“Let go,” I hiss. “Let go.”  A familiar prickling in my scalp begins, signaling one of the dreaded flashbacks that can easily debilitate me. “No. No. No.” Pain spikes along my scalp, like a blade carving me from one side to the other.  “Oh, God. Not now.”

“Oh God, is right,” he promises. “Over and over you gonna say that.”

My eyes meet his and I see the intent in his. He isn’t going to make me an ID. He’s going to make me a victim if I let him. I am sick and tired of being everyone’s victim. I raise my knee and put every bit of myself behind the blow I land on his groin. He grunts and doubles over, panting in evident pain. The prickling in my head is more pronounced and I shove against the door, desperate to escape before I collapse, but it doesn’t move. Panicked, I turn and push on the steel latch and then burst from the store and into the wind.  A quick glance to my right in search of my cab tells me the driver has deserted me. I cut the other way, running blindly as fast as my feet will allow.

Spots splatter in front of my eyes and I dart into a place labeled as a diner, and head for the sign that reads “Restroom”. Once I’m inside the one-stall room, I lock myself in and press my back against the wooden surface. Pain pierces my scalp and I ball my fists and slide down the door, just in time. Suddenly, I’m flashing back to the past.

I park my Toyota Camry in front of the house and shove open the door, wondering what it will be like to be in college a few months from now, without a curfew. Stepping outside, the hot Texas night suffocates me and so does the realization that the porch is dark. How very…odd. I frown and shove my door closed, strapping my small purse cross-body, noting my parents’ Ford SUV is in the drive and opting to keep my keys in hand. If my mom isn’t on the porch waiting to tell me I’m ten minutes late, maybe the migraine she was fighting earlier caught up with her and I need to let myself inside.

Rushing toward the house, hoping to avoid a lecture, I tiptoe up the stairs. The third plank creaks loudly and I freeze, certain that no headache will stop my mother from discovering my tardiness. Dang it, this is Dana’s fault. I think of my best friend. I’d told her I had to leave the movie theater thirty minutes ago, but Jack—aka the captain of the football team—was talking to her and she’s infatuated with him.

Inhaling, I decide to just go for it, and rush the rest of the way up to the main landing. The instant I hit the porch level, a hand wraps around my upper arm. I gasp and a big hand covers my mouth. I reach for it, trying to pry it off of me.

A second later I’m slammed against the wall, that big hand still over my mouth. “Were you inviting someone to grab you and hurt you?”

I blink my older brother into view through the inky black night surrounding us and his hand falls from my mouth. I grimace at him and lift my knee to his groin, stopping just shy of contact. “I should hurt you like I would them. You scared the crap out of me, Chad. When did you and Dad even get back into town?”

He ignores the question. “When you see something unusual like the porch light being out, you don’t just charge forward and hope for the best. Walking around in your fairytale world of Saturday night dates and teenage gossip isn’t going to keep you safe.”

My anger is instant. “Teenage gossip? Did you really just say that to me? I want to be at the digs with you and Dad. I want to be exploring the world. It’s your influence on Dad that keeps me from traveling with you, so don’t even go there, Chad.”

A long, curly lock of his blond hair falls over his brow. “Because I’m fucking trying to make sure you have the normal life I have never had.”

I suck in a breath at the raspy, affected quality to his words that sends goose bumps down my spine. Fear clenches my gut. “What’s wrong, Chad?”

He stares at me and I wish like heck the shadows would soften on his face.

“Chad?” I prod when he doesn’t reply.

He shoves off the wall and scrubs his face. “Nothing’s wrong.” He motions to the door. “Let’s go inside.”

“No. Not yet. Not until you tell me what’s going on. Don’t tell me it’s nothing. Tell me the truth.”

“You can’t handle the truth. If tonight told me anything, it’s that.”

“That’s unfair. I’m living the only life you let me have. What aren’t you telling me?”

Pounding jolts me back to the present and I am on the ground, my legs spread out on the filthy floor of the restaurant bathroom. “Chad,” I whisper, aching from how real he’d felt in my flashback. It had been only months after that when I lost him and everyone I loved. I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering how Mom had opened the door and ended the conversation that Chad would never reopen. Chad had blamed his behavior on a girl and a bottle of tequila I know he’d never touched. I’d have smelled it on him. You can’t handle the truth. I squeeze my eyes shut, ashamed of how right he’d been. Ashamed at how I’ve hidden and blocked everything out. Afraid of what I’d discover. My lashes lift. Not anymore.

I open the bathroom door, and return to the  main dining area, and it’s as if my memory of Chad has shifted something inside me. I am suddenly challenged to be more than I have been, but deep down I know this has been coming. Something inside me burns to escape the prison that has been my life. It is almost as if on a subconscious level, I went to work at the museum to tempt fate and force myself to finally act.

Exiting the building, I am remarkably cool-headed about how to deal with my travel limitations. I hail a cab and direct the driver to take me to a bank. There I withdraw the cash from my New York account, all too aware I’m sending out an alert about my location to whoever was following me from New York. Next, I have the driver take me on my second trip to Walmart, where I suck it up and invest in more of what I need for my travel plans, a selection of casual clothes, two suitcases, a couple of hats, and sunglasses. Once I pay for the items, I go to the bathroom and change into jeans and a basic navy tee, intentionally leaving one suitcase empty while placing my purchases in the second. Finally, I slip on a red hoodie to make sure I stand out at my next stop.

When the cab pulls up to the airport, my nerves are scattered, but I force myself to get out of the car. I have a plan and it’s a good one. Good thing, too, since there is no plan “B” that makes sense to me.

I rush to the counter of a budget airline in an effort to control my cost and I am just in time to snag a seat on a flight leaving in less than an hour. I check in the empty bag, assuming a bag makes my flight look more legitimate than I intend for it to be, and keep the other with me. Once I have my boarding pass, despite my feet resisting, I press forward, reminding myself that there are cameras and security people everywhere. I’m safer here than anywhere else.

Fifteen torturous minutes later, I head to the gate, where I claim a seat near the counter so that I can call for help if needed. I do not move. I just…wait. And wait. And wait, it seems. Finally, boarding time arrives and I know this is when I have to plan things just right. I wait in line and the attendant scans my ticket and waves me down the ramp. I walk toward the entry and disappear onto the boarding ramp, then move to the wall, letting others pass. My hoodie comes off and I stuff it in my bag, then tug out the black ball cap I purchased and shove my hair underneath.

“Do you need help?” an attendant asks.

“My mother is meeting me and I’m worried. Do I have time to look for her?”

“You have about three minutes. Is she a confirmed passenger?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name and I’ll call her on the intercom and check the manifest for her name.”

“Kylie Richardson, and thank you.”

She looks concerned and nods. “Give me a moment or actually continue boarding and I’ll find you. What’s your name?”

“Lara,” I say, speaking half of my real name for the first time in six years, and all but choking on it as I do.

“Lara Richardson?”

Brooks, I think, and for reasons beyond my obvious need for discretion my birth name no longer feels right. It no longer feels like me, and too easily, another alias flows from my lips. “Richardson. Lara Richardson.”

“Okay, Ms. Richardson. Go find your seat and I’ll find your mom.”

She turns away and I do not let myself dwell on the foolishness of using my real first name in an airport where I am surely being hunted. I creep to the edge of the walkway and peek around the corner to find the attendant walking toward the counter where another woman waits. The waiting area is empty. Like it had been that day I’d met Liam, when I’d thought I was going to be bumped, but instead ended up seated in first class next to him. Now, I wonder if that was a coincidence or by his design.

With the attendants facing away from me, I hear the announcement calling my fictional mother and I seize the opportunity presented to me. Darting from the walkway and to my right, my destination is the nearest exit sign, which I find quickly. Lifting my suitcase, I all but run down the escalator and straight toward the taxi stand.

Outside the building, I head directly to the male attendant and hand him cash. “I’m late to a wedding rehearsal dinner.  I need out of here fast.”

He glances at the twenty-dollar bill I’ve handed him and nods. “You got it, sweetheart.” He lifts his hand to motion to a cab and grabs my bag.

“In the back seat, please,” I instruct, wanting my few possessions where I can get to them if I need to make a fast departure. I can’t afford to throw out any more money after the cost of that plane ticket.

I’m just about to climb into the backseat when I hear, “Amy.”

For the flash of a moment, I freeze, the sound of Liam’s deep, intensely male and all too familiar voice radiating through me. No. No. No. He cannot be here. He can’t. But he is and that can only mean one thing. He had me followed. He’s been having me followed and it’s the confirmation that he was never just a stranger who touched me deeply. He is everything I do not want him to be. Everything I had prayed he wasn’t.

I whirl around to face him and the attendant is stepping away, giving me a view of Liam standing there, looking every bit of Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome in faded jeans and an Izod shirt that is as perfectly aqua blue as his eyes. Close. Too close and he sways into motion. “Don’t!” I hiss, holding up a hand. “I’ll scream bloody murder, I promise you.”

He stills, and our eyes lock, his narrowing, holding mine captive. “Run to me, not from me.”

Those familiar words ripple through me, stirring a passionate memory of him saying them to me once before. And they hurt. I hurt. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“You know who I am. Who are you?”

“Hey, lady,” the driver says. “You coming?”

“Yes,” I call out. “Yes. I am.” But I don’t look away from Liam. “I heard you, Liam. I heard you talking to Derek last night.”

“You don’t know what you heard.”

No denial. I’d wanted denial and not hearing it tells me more than words. I turn away and start to get into the car.

“Don’t do this,” he commands, but there is a hint of a plea to his voice I’m not sure is real. Maybe I just want it to exist. Maybe I just want to turn back time and make last night, and so many things, go away. “You need my protection,” he adds.

I laugh, but it is all pain and no humor. “Your protection was never what I needed.” It was his honesty. His realness that I now doubt.

“You need my protection,” he repeats. “That’s what I was talking to Derek about. Me protecting you.”

Is the camera feed live? he’d asked Derek. That isn’t protection. “Lies don’t protect me,” I bite out, and duck to get into the car again.

“I didn’t lie to you.”

I stop moving, grinding my teeth at the realization that I ridiculously want him to give me a good reason for what I’d overhead. There is no good reason, I remind myself as I had a million times last night. I let my guard down with him and I can’t. Not when my family is already dead and I could be next.

“I can’t do this with you,” I whisper, not even sure if he can hear me as I lower myself onto the leather seat.

“I will find you,” he calls after me, and the words are pure conviction, a promise.

“You can try,” I say, and my heart is racing as I yank the door shut, lock it, and shout at the driver, “Go, go, go. Go now!”

The car jerks into motion at the same moment that Liam pounds on the roof. Scooting away from the window, I watch as he tugs on the locked handle. “Amy, damn it!” he growls. The man I know to be private and in control, at least in public, is nowhere to be found. “Open up.” We keep moving and he runs beside us, leaning into my view. “Don’t do this. Stop. Stop now.”

“Do we have a problem, lady?” the driver asks.

“Drive and we won’t!” I shout at him.

He guns the engine and we pull ahead of Liam and the absence of him beside me is both a relief and a blow. I twist around to stare at him, the baseball cap falling from my hair, my eyes desperately seeking Liam. He’s running after us. Running. Liam doesn’t seem like a man to run after anyone, but he’s running after me.

My fingers curl into my palms and I force myself to turn and sit down. Liam was desperate for me. I know this. It was in his eyes, his actions. In his voice. And I am desperate for him, for the man who I believed finally ended what felt like an eternal hell of being alone. But I do not know why he is desperate for me, if there might be reasons beyond real emotion, any more than I know why I am hunted or why he might be involved. I only know that he could be. And right now, I know why I let six years pass before I looked for answers. Not knowing who to trust, or how to find out what I need to know without dying first, is terrifying. But not knowing was a facade of safety that never existed and is simply no longer an option.

I will find you. Liam’s words play in my head and I know he meant them. He will find me  if I give him the chance. My nails dig into my palms where my fingers are still curled. If I ever see Liam again, it has to be my choice.

I sit up straight and survey the area outside the car as we exit onto the highway and I think of the note in the JFK airport. Be smart. Don’t link yourself to your past. Stay away from museums this time. Be smart. We are traveling the expected path in a car that I’ve been spotted in by Liam. That is not smart, but calm slides through me as it had after the diner this morning, and I’m back in that ‘zone’ I’d found years before to escape the memories of the fire that had burned away my world. Stop and think, Amy, I tell myself. Stop and think before you act.

I resist the urge to scream for the first exit, thinking it, too, would be obvious. “Exit here,” I order several miles later, digging cash out of my bag and dragging the handle of my suitcase open.

The cab takes the frontage road. “Right or left?” the driver asks.

My gaze lands on a truck stop and a light bulb goes off in my head. “Get back on the highway,” I order, slipping my hair back under my ball cap.

“What?” the driver asks, sounding irritated. “You told me to get off.”

“I got confused,” I say and he stops at the light directly ahead of us and I open my door, tossing him cash.

My zone does not seem to stop my adrenaline from spiking like gasoline through my veins at the danger of being out in the open, a danger I’m ready to have behind me. Shoving the bag I’m using as a purse onto my shoulder, my singular suitcase in tow, I dart across the road. This will be over in a minute and I will be out of danger. I have a plan that is much better than the one I started with this morning.

The instant I’m inside the truck stop, I make a beeline to the back door that I can tell leads to the industrial gas pumps for the big rigs. I’m bypassing my Plan A, which had been to buy a cheap car off of Craigslist, one I wouldn’t need an ID to buy, and drive out of the state. Dangerous as it might be, I’m hanging onto my cash, and hitchhiking. It’s dangerous, but so is staying in the city any longer than necessary.

Stepping outside again, my plan is to find the most un-serial-killer-like person as possible but as I exit, a short, bearded man in jeans and a cowboy shirt grabs the door from me and stops a few steps from me. “You need help, sweetheart?”

Already this is seeming like a bad idea. “No, I’m good.”

He squints, thick lines around eyes that spend way too much time moving up and down my body, before he asks, “You need a ride?”

“She’s with me.”

I glance up to find a thin, fifty-something red-haired woman kicking up dust with her cowboy boots. She stops beside me. “You ready to head out?”

The look she gives me is all motherly authority and my heart squeezes with the memories of my own mother. “Yes,” I say, no hesitation in my reply. “I’m ready.”

She motions me toward a big red rig and I fall into step with her. “I’m Shell, honey. I’d ask what you’re running from but I’ll spare you a lie. I ride with my hubby Frank. You can join us if you like. Where you headed?”

“Away from here,” I say. “That’s all that counts right now.”

Sadness seeps into her eyes and quickly is banked, but I see it. I feel it. Oh how I feel it and once again with a stranger, I feel a connection. But then, all I have in my life are strangers. Who else would I connect with?

“Who do we have here?” A happy looking gray-haired man with a beer belly asks as we approach the shiny red truck.

“This is…” Shell begins, and glances at me, a question in her expression.

“Amy,” I say, clinging to the name that is the only thing I’ve managed to keep for six years.

“I’m Roy, Amy. You know how many truckers it takes to pump gas into a rig?”

“Ah…no. How many?”

“None. We make our wives do it.”

Laughter bubbles from my throat and Shell snorts. “He doesn’t make me do anything, honey.”

 Ten minutes later I’m at the window seat of the rig with Shell between me and Roy, and my laughter has taken a nosedive. Roy pauses at the exit to check the road and my chest is suddenly killing me, a crushing sensation pressing against it like the big rig I’m riding in is rolling over me instead of the hot pavement.

We pull onto the access road and while I felt regret leaving New York, I feel none over leaving Denver. But there is plenty over leaving Liam. I still want my Godzilla slayer, which is exactly why distance between him and me is good. I don’t know who I’m running from or if I’m wanted dead or alive. I simply know I have enemies and that it’s time I find out why. I will do that by being my own hero and the hero that honors my family the way they deserve to be honored.

Chapter Two

Silver City, New Mexico

Population 15,000

“Where the hell is Amy?”

I rush through the back door off the kitchen of ‘The Dive’ just in time to hear the grumpy question asked by our bald, often cranky, cook. “I’m here,” I reply quickly, hanging my black backpack on the rack on the wall just inside the kitchen. “Ready for my shift.”

“You’re late,” George grumbles.

Grabbing the clip on the outside of my bag, I tangle my long blonde hair into a knot at the back of my head and glance at the clock that tells me I’m actually two minutes early despite a flashback that had brought me to my knees. But I don’t argue, just like I haven’t done anything else to bring attention to myself these past eight weeks. “Sorry,” I offer, and Katy, the bottle-blonde waitress whose been here three years to my two weeks, casts me a friendly, sympathetic look.

Somehow, I force a small smile before cutting my gaze and grabbing an apron to tie around the waist of my pink uniform dress that all the waitresses here pair with laced white tennis shoes. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Katy’s concern. I do, and I like her quite a lot considering I’ve only been here such a short time, but I have no idea if we have anything but this place in common. Nor will I find out. I’m here another week, tops, and then I’ll find a trucker who feels safe, and who stops off the highway, and I’m out of here. It’s my only option until I have enough money and a good enough, well-researched plan that allows me to return to Texas without ending up dead like my family.

George flips a burger on the massive grill in the middle of the kitchen. “If you two are ready to work, then go give the dinner crowd some holiday fucking cheer. We have turkey and dressing on the menu until Thanksgiving.”

“It’s Halloween,” I say before I can stop myself, not ready for the holiday. Not this year. Not for the past six years.

“Close enough to a holiday for turkey,” George grumbles. “I got it at a bargain, so go push it to customers. Now get to work. This ain’t no Halloween party time for you.”

“Who needs costumes and parties?” Katy quips. “We have a monster in the kitchen every night.”

“I’ll show you a monster if I have turkey left over.” George adds a glower to what seems to be his typical grumble.

Katy waves him off and rushes toward me. “The drunks in the dining room are nicer than him,” she assures me as we exit the kitchen behind the long counter where customers can choose to sit rather than at one of the red booths or simple diner-style tables.

“I hope you’re right on that one,” I say, stopping just outside the kitchen, the scents of french fries and bacon mixing like sour eggs. Suddenly my stomach clenches, then rolls.

“Me too,” Katy laughs, turning to face me. “But you’ll get used to him, I promise.” Her brows dip and she frowns. “You okay?”

“I took a vitamin on an empty stomach when I know better,” I say, and as much as I hate the lies that are my life, this one comes easily. The two waitresses on duty head toward us to hand off their duties, and I barely register the exchanges that follow. My mind is in another place, back in Liam’s hotel room when we’d had angry, passionate, unprotected sex. You’re not pregnant. Eight weeks, three cities, one period, and one negative test says I’m not. But my period was barely there, spotty at best.

When I finally head toward my first table, any comfort I’ve talked myself into ends when another whiff of bacon hits me and my stomach knots. Not pregnant, I repeat in my head. I’m not. It’s impossible. Right? Just like the reality of me being in a roadside diner on the run isn’t possible and yet it’s happening. That’s enough to make me decide I’ll go take a test at my dinner break. Until then, I hope for a busy crowd to keep my mind off of the moment I look for that little pink line.

* * *

Almost four hours later, I head toward the window behind the counter area that is open to the kitchen to pick up my last order before my break. Thankfully, whatever had affected my stomach is long past, but I still want to take a test to put my mind at ease. Most likely, my lack of sleep, worry, and the incessant flashbacks I can’t control without the acupuncture that travel and my budget do not allow, have made me this way. But I’ll fix that. I’m working on a plan that lets me get settled in Texas, pull myself together, and be on top of my game when I address the past.

“I think every drunk this town has come here tonight,” Katy complains, joining me to wait for her next ticket to come up. “I’ve been groped and hit on all night and that was just the women.”

“Right there with you on that one,” I say, and for some reason I feel the need to promise myself this job, this life, is not my forever. It’s just a means to an end. It’s smart. It’s me staying off the radar and building resources.

Katy pats her apron pocket. “At least the tips have been good.”

“Oh yes,” I agree. “I’m close to my best night ever. And I can use every dime I earn.”

“Can’t we all.” Her gaze flickers over my shoulder and her lips quirk. “And honey, I have a feeling your tips are about to get better. A guy who looks real expensive and good enough to lick asked to be seated in your section as I was headed over here, and sorry, no offense, but I tried to get him for me.” She glances down at her ample cleavage. “The girls failed me. I guess he likes them au naturel.”

I go still at her words, and a familiar, too often repeated, memory of me telling Liam I want to lick his tattoo flashes through my mind. He is not here. It can’t be him. It just...can’t. But isn’t that what I said when he’d shown up at the airport? “Can’t” isn’t a word Liam likes. Can’t never applies to him.

“Order up,” George shouts and shoves two plates inside the pass-through window.

Staring at the plates, I will myself not to overreact. Not to create a Godzilla that doesn’t exist when I have plenty of problems before me that do. Liam is not here. I’ve moved around and paid cash for everything. I’ve found small diners to work for that accept my pitiful little girl with a lost wallet excuse during the paperwork. I promise to replace my ID right away and then write down random socials. Even the phone calls I’ve made to Texas to research my past were done on disposable phones that I ordered with Texas numbers and a pre-paid gift card. I’ve been smart. I am not traceable.

“You daydreaming or doing your job?” George demands, snapping me back to the moment to realize Katy is chatting with the other waitress.

Grabbing my order, I whirl around, pinpointing the table my plates are for, and any chance I have to scan for this lickable man Katy has mentioned is killed when several people walk in the door and block my view of the rest of the room.

Quickly, I set the orders on my customer’s table and the sensation of being watched comes over me. No. The sensation of being watched by him comes over me. Liam. Liam is here. No. No. No. He’s not here. No Godzilla, Amy. No Godzilla.

“Can I get ketchup?” My customer asks.

I manage a choppy nod and turn away, taking a few steps before I stop dead in my tracks, my attention riveted to the corner booth at the back of the diner. To where he lounges, looking as cool and confident as ever in jeans and a charcoal-gray pullover with the sleeves tugged to his elbows, as refined as a tailored suit.

This isn’t happening. It’s not supposed to happen, at least not now, not like this. Not when I am no more certain than when I left Denver if he is good for me and I for him. Not when he could be the hunter and me the prey. And yet there is no urge to run. There is only the urge to go to him, to touch him, and lose myself in this man as I had months before. Illogically, there is relief that he is here and somehow I am not alone, when my running from him says there should be fear. And maybe my reaction is what should scare me the most. Liam is my weakness, not the strength I’d once seen him as being.

Swallowing hard, I start walking toward him, certain he will have a plan to prevent me running anyway. He tracks my approach with those intense aqua-blue eyes of his, his neatly trimmed goatee somehow giving him a worldly, dangerous air, his cool stare turning hotter the closer I get to him. And terrifyingly, just as easily, my body burns in reaction, warning me I cannot touch him without losing myself in the process. That is the power of this man over me and knowing this, accepting it, is my only defense.

But my plan, like the one to stay off the radar, is lost on Liam. The instant I stop at Liam’s table, he angles toward me, gently shackling my wrist, pulling me to him, my bare legs pressing to his jean-clad knees. The heat of moments before becomes downright fire and I am weak and aching for this man as I have never ached for another.

“How did you find me?” I demand, and somehow my hand is on his shoulder, but I do not push him away. Why am I not pushing him away?

“The same way someone else will if you keep living like this. The CB circuit is broad and truckers like money. And damn it, Amy, what if one of them had raped you? Or worse, killed you?”

“You think I didn’t worry about those things?” I demand, angry that the control I’d thought I’d had was nothing but a façade he’d destroyed with his money. “I did what I had to.”

“You ran when you overheard me talking to Derek. And, yes, I know. I saw the security footage. What I don’t know is what you assumed it meant. All I’m guilty of is trying to protect you.”

“I can’t trust you, Liam. I don’t trust you.”

“You think I’m involved in whatever you’re running from, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what I think.”

“Would I be here, in a public place with you, if I meant to hurt you? I could have waited until you were alone and cornered you.”

“You weren’t afraid to be seen with me in Denver.”

“Exactly.” He settles his free hand on my hip, and it is a branding, a claiming that sets my heart racing. “Because I have nothing to hide. And you have nothing to fear from me. Not from me. I would never hurt you.”

Not from him. There are so many ways to translate that. “Liam--”

“Do you know how good it is to hear you say my name again?” His tone is rough, affected. And I am affected by the emotion I sense in him.

“Let me go,” I whisper, telling myself I mean it, but I do not sound convincing, not even to my own ears.

“What do I have to do to convince you I’m the one you run to, not away from? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“You put a camera in my computer. Nothing is going to convince me you are my hero whisking me away to safety. Nothing.”

“I didn’t put the camera in the computer. I found the one your ‘boss’ installed.”

I blink at the unexpected answer. Found it? Is he saying my handler put it there? That makes no sense. “Why would you even look for a camera if you didn’t know it was there?”

“Because nothing added up about your new boss.”

“You promised I could tell you what was wrong when I was ready, so either you lied about that or you’re lying about this.”

“You couldn’t tell me what you didn’t know was a problem. I won’t apologize for protecting you, Amy. Not then and not now.” He softens his voice. “Run to me. Not from me. Let’s get out of here before someone else finds you.”

Run to him. If only it were so simple. If only I could just say yes. “And if I say no? Will you walk away?”

“Don’t. Don’t say no.”

“If I do,” I repeat, “will you let me walk away?”

“Raw and honest, baby, no matter what. So, no. Not now. Not when I fear for your safety. I won’t let you walk away.”

“So you’re telling me you came here to kidnap me.”

“Call it what you want, but I’m not leaving here without you.”

“Amy? Is everything okay?”

I stiffen at Katy’s unexpected interruption and I try to pull my hand from Liam’s, but he holds on to it. “Think before you act,” he orders softly. “You’re already on too many people’s radar.”

“Including yours.” My lips tighten. “But I know.” And I do. It seems just about everyone can be bought, even the police, I suspect. They certainly document everything and have their own radio system.

“Amy,” Katy snaps, and her concern now rings more like irritation than anything else.

“Liam,” I say softly.

“Be careful,” he says, and with obvious hesitation, releases me.

I turn to Katy, acutely aware of Liam standing up behind me and stepping to my side, his shoulder brushing mine. “Sorry, Katy,” I manage, despite my struggle to think of anything but Liam. “I was catching up with--”

“An old friend,” Liam supplies, clearly avoiding the use of his name and this hits a nerve for me. I thought he was fine with being seen with me, but he’s not fine with anyone knowing who he is here?

Katy focuses on me. “We have customers. Some of yours are pretty angry. You need to get back to work.”

“Actually,” Liam says, reaching across me and dropping a stack of money on the table, “Amy’s resigning, effective immediately.” He straightens again, still standing protectively by my side as he adds, “That should pay for all of her tables tonight and leave a generous tip for you taking over on such short notice.”

Her eyes go wide at the large sum of money. “Oh. Well.” She scoops up the cash. “No problem. Sorry to see you go, Amy, but,” she looks Liam up and down, and her lips curve, “I get it. Believe me, I do.”

She turns and walks away, but I stay put, and I do not like where my mind is taking me. Liam has just paid Katy off. He paid the trucker to find me. My father lived a life filled with invaluable relics which translated to more money. I’d tried to find a connection between my father’s work and Liam, and had come up dry, but now I have it. Money.

Liam’s hand settles possessively on my back, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the shiver that races down my spine, angry that I cannot control myself with this man. “Let’s get out of here, Amy,” he urges and panic rises inside me.

Without a conscious decision to do so, I whirl on him and take several steps backwards. “I’m going to get my backpack,” I announce and I don’t give him time to respond, rushing away to the echo of his soft curse, and charging for the back of the diner. He won’t follow, I tell myself. He’ll want to avoid a bigger scene that draws attention. He doesn’t like attention or the press that comes with it. And I won’t risk the police, with nothing to truly report, and no certainty their records won’t somehow tell the wrong person my location. Or maybe the wrong person already knows. Maybe that wrong person is Liam.

Fighting the urge to look over my shoulder, I push the door to the kitchen open and walk past the grill where George is working, but I don’t look at him. “Hey!” he shouts after me. “Get back on the floor. We have customers.”

I don’t answer. I go straight to the coat rack and grab my bag, then turn the corner, heading to the hallway and the back door, hesitating as I reach for the latch on the industrial door. Waiting expectantly, I am certain Liam will be here any moment, but there is only the sound of something frying on the grill. Why hasn’t he followed me? It can mean only one thing. He’s already outside waiting on me. I flatten my hand on the cold steel, and then rotate to lean on the door, my mind reeling.

Why can’t this be easy? Why can’t I have some way of knowing I can trust him? But I can’t think about ‘why’ right now, or how devastating it will be if he’s really a part of all of this.  I have to think through getting out of here and there really isn’t a good answer to making that happen. If Liam is just beyond this door, then the only answer is the dining room exit, but what if he isn’t alone? I don’t think so, but what choice do I have but to try to escape?

Pressing my hand to my face, I will myself to think, think, think. If I get out of the doors without Liam seeing me, then what? Thankfully, my money is always pinned in a baggy inside my clothes, but it’s not enough to buy a car and still survive. Not unless I sell the cheap Craigslist laptop I bought a month ago and I’ll never get to my room to get it before Liam gets to me. And he’ll look to the highway to find me when he realizes I’m gone. I’ll have to go to one of the nearby campgrounds and wait things out a week or so before I dare try to leave. Liam will look for me so I can’t rent a cabin. He might even look in the public grounds but I have no other immediate plan. I’ll just...I’ll figure it out.

Knowing I’m out of time, I shove off the door as George yells, “Hey you. What the fuck are you doing in here?”

My pulse leaps and I turn to the back door, working the lock and yanking it open. Bursting into the cloudy, dark night, thunder rumbling overhead, the nearly vacant parking lot is illuminated by nothing more than a low-hanging moon. I hesitate, open space and a hill between me and the motel. There is nowhere to run and I don’t get a chance to try.

The door slams behind me and Liam shackles my upper arm, turning me to face him. “No more running, Amy. That isn’t working. You have to see that.”

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, jerking on my arm only to have him easily hold it. “Let go.”

“Never again, baby. Never again.”

“That’s right,” I promise him. “Never again. You threw money at the truckers. You threw money on the table. You throw money at everything. Well, I am not for sale and if you’re chasing after me, I assume I must mean more money to you. What do I have that you want? I’ll give it to you. Just let this end.”

He pulls me close, his hard body aligned with mine, my fingers pressing into the muscled wall of his chest where I feel the wildness of his heartbeat. “I have money, Amy, and you don’t have any for me to want anyway.”

“No, but--” I stop myself before I say ‘my father did’ and give away something he might not know.

“But what?”

I’m desperate for the truth, any truth, and I throw caution to the wind to bait him. “My father was a famous archeologist who dealt with priceless pieces of history. That means money. Lots of money. Alex had money, too. He could have a connection to my father.”

“What the hell connection could he have to your father?”

“The pyramids.”

“Alex was never into the pyramids, so if this is about the pyramids, it’s about me. And my interest is about improving my craft and understanding what no one else does. It’s about me and my way of making me better. Just me, Amy. Not Alex. And neither I nor Alex needed money.”

Him. There it is. The real issue. I don’t want this to be all about him. “Money wants more money, just like lies breed lies. I can’t afford to trust you.”

Tires grind over the rocks on the unpaved lot and Liam turns me to the wall, pressing me against it. “You keep screaming about wanting honesty, baby, well, here it is. I let you walk into the kitchen hoping you’d decide to trust me and choose to come with me. But right now I don’t care if you do or you don’t. You’re coming with me.”

The beam of headlights blasts us, then dims, and I have no doubt this car is with Liam.  “Because you’re kidnapping me,” I accuse again.

“Because someone either wants something you have or wants you dead, Amy. I wasn’t the only bidder on your location. I was the highest, and while you were in the kitchen I got a phone call. Someone else gave you up. We need out of here, and out of here, now.” Before I can even begin to digest the magnitude of his words, he grabs my hand, then drags me forward. And that’s when I see the car clearly for the first time. The sight of the black sedan knots my stomach, and instantly, spots swim in front of my eyes. Fast. So fast, I feel the world spinning around me.

“Liam,” I call desperately, digging in my heels, needing stability to fight the pain piercing my skull. “Liam, wait.” A wave of nausea and more spots overwhelm me and my legs go limp.

“I’ve got you,” Liam says, and he scoops me into his arms.

Pain pierces my skull and I curl into the solid wall of Liam’s chest, incapable of doing anything but cling to his shirt for what feels like dear life.

“Get the door,” I remotely register Liam saying to someone and I want to know who, I need to know who, but I can’t focus through the pain. I try to open my eyes but it hurts too badly to even try. Clinging to Liam, I cannot do anything but trust him and pray he’s worthy of that trust.

“You’re okay,” he promises, tightening his arms around me. “Everything is going to be okay.” It’s the last thing I remember before everything goes dark.

Chapter Three

I’m swimming in darkness when Liam’s promise surfaces in my mind. Everything is going to be okay. The words spiral through me and suddenly I can breathe again. I inhale air and then I am back on the porch of my family home, hidden in a dark corner with Luke, the sexy, blond god of an older boy next door, who I’ve crushed on since he moved in four years ago.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” I tell him and I am nervous on the dark porch, my brother’s warning about being cautious making me edgy for no reason. I’m here with Luke, my next door neighbor of many years. So what if I’d given him my virginity last night and it had left me feeling pretty lost? I’ve been lost a lot lately, confused by some weird vibe with my family I can’t escape. 

“I had to see you before I left,” he says, pulling me close, brushing the hair from my eyes, and stepping on my bare toes.  

“Ouch,” I groan. 

“Sorry. Sorry, Lara. Did I hurt you?”

Obviously he hurt my foot, but I know he’s not talking about now. He’s talking about last night. “I’m fine. It’s...fine.” A perfect eighteenth birthday present, him pounding into me and then going drinking with the ‘boys’ after. I wish he wouldn’t have even come home for the summer. “And ah, you didn’t have to come by. I’ll see you at UT Austin in two weeks anyway.” I’m just not sure I want to now. “Unless you seniors are above us freshmen.”

“Did I seem like I was above freshmen last night?

He really isn’t going to like my answer to that. “It’s one in the morning. If my mom catches us, she’ll be furious.” 

“She’s sleeping. You said so when I called.”

“I also told you not to come.”  

“You’re upset with me.”

“No, I--” Tires grind on gravel behind me, and I jump, spinning around to watch a black sedan pulling into the driveway. Luke’s hand settles on my waist and he leans in to whisper, “Your mom got a little something something going on the side, or what?” 

I grind my teeth, wondering how I never noticed what an asshole he was until last night. I open my mouth to tell him so, too, when the front door flies open. Luke yanks me back into the farthest, darkest part of the porch, and not a moment too soon. My mother appears and I’m shocked that she’s fully dressed in shorts and a tank top like me, when I’m certain I saw her in a white gown not an hour before. 

Holding my breath, I watch as she pads down the stairs. her flat sandals slapping against the wood. The car pulls further up the driveway and disappears at the side of the house, and she follows it. 

“I’m out of here, babe,” Luke says, but I barely register his words, tuning him out and rushing toward the steps. Luke catches up to me on the grass, grabbing my arm. “What are you doing?”

“I want to know who’s here.”

“Lara, be real. It’s the middle of the night and your dad and brother are out of town. Who do you think it is?”

Does he know? “Who? Who is it?”

“It’s a booty call.” 

I gape at the crass comment. “Booty call? Is that what you hoped tonight would be for you? My mother is not cheating on my father.”

He snorts. “If you say so.”

I shove him. “Go back to Austin, Luke.” Moonlight washes over his shocked expression and I turn and head down the line of the house to squat beside a large row of neatly trimmed bushes. 

Steeling myself for what could come next, telling myself whatever this is, is innocent, I peer down the driveway and suck in a breath. The car’s lights are dimmed now to a glow and my mother is standing at the open driver’s door. Yelling. She’s yelling at whoever is inside. She never yells. Except that day I came home to tell her I’d been accepted into the University of Texas, and overheard her fighting with someone. 

“You told me it wouldn’t be like this,” she shouts, seemingly forgetting she might be overheard. She sounds too freaked out to think logically, out of her mind with emotion. 

A deep, male voice says something, but I can’t catch the words. I think he’s being cautious about his voice carrying, though I can’t say why I think that. I just do.

“You said--” my mother starts, but the man pushes out of the car, turning her to press her against the trunk, his big, suit-clad body framing hers. My heart is racing and I want to call out for him to let her go, but I’m not sure I should. Shadows hug his profile, making it impossible for me to make out his face and he doesn’t seem familiar. He just seems like a monster.  

“Don’t touch me!” my mother hisses, and the man leans in low to her ear and then pulls back to look at her. 

I gasp as my mother slaps his face, the bite of her palm on his cheek clapping in the air. 

He grabs her arm, moving her with him, and then yanks open the back door of the car. His back is to me and they exchange more incoherent words before I hear him clearly as he orders, “Get in.” 

And she does. Oh God. Oh God. Why is she getting into the car? I stand up as he follows her into the backseat and shuts them inside. He’s going to hurt her and I think about calling the police or my father, but there isn’t time. I burst from behind the shrubs to help my mother, only to be yanked back behind the bushes. 

“Don’t,” Luke warns, 

I turn on him, grabbing his shirt. “Let go. I have to help her. I have to.”

“She doesn’t need help. She’s getting naked with that man.”

“She slapped him.”

“You didn’t hear his reply?”

“No. What are you talking about?” I  jerk on my arm. “Let go. Let me go.”

“He promised her he’d fuck her until she apologizes.” He grimaces. “Just like last time.”

My throat goes dry. “No. No. That can’t be.”

“It is. Just stay here and I promise you she’s going to get out of that car looking well fucked and smiling like a well-fed cat.” He grabs my hand and pulls me around the house and I dig in my heels. 

“Stop, Luke. Where are we going?”

“You aren’t watching this. It’s upsetting you.”

“I have to stay.”

“Just do what I say and it’s going to be okay.”

He starts pulling me away from the side of the house and I let him. I shouldn’t let him. I should do something. “Luke--” Blackness flashes in front of my eyes. I can’t see Luke. I can’t see the yard or my mother or who the man is. I have to turn back. I have to see who the man is. But I can’t. It’s too dark and Luke is pulling me. He keeps pulling me. No! No! No! 

“No!” I jerk to a sitting position, gasping into flickering shadows, water pellets hitting a window, a storm all around me, and I yank the clip from the back of my throbbing head. “Where am I?”

“Easy, baby,” I hear, a moment before I’m pulled back into the cradle of a hard body and a car door behind me.

 “Liam?” I whisper, unsure what is real, only that my cheeks are damp and there is a tangled mess of images in my mind. My mother fighting with the stranger. Liam and I fighting behind the diner.

“I’m here and you’re safe,” Liam assures me, swiping the dampness from my cheeks. “You blacked out for twenty damn minutes and scared the hell out of me. Is that normal? Do you always black out that long?”

“I...I don’t know. I think...I…maybe.” Nothing is normal. Nothing is right. My fingers ball around his shirt, and the murky dark waters of what remains of my flashback threaten to pull me under with guilt. “If I’d done something that night. If I...If I’d told someone-”

“What night? Told who what?”

I blink and snap my lips shut. What am I doing? What am I saying to Liam who I cannot dare trust? “Nothing,” I say and try to pull away from him.

His arm shackles my waist. “Talk to me, Amy. Let me help.”

My hand goes to his wrist where he holds me captive, the heat of his body radiating into me, arousing me, confusing me. I am alone without him, but I am tired of lies. From me. To me. About my life. “You shouldn’t have looked for me.”

“I should have found you sooner.”

“And that only makes me ask, why? Why Liam? There are so many ‘whys’ I have for you and you have yet to give me an answer that makes sense.”

His fingers lace into my hair. “Nothing about us made sense from the moment we met and yet it makes perfect sense.” And then his mouth comes down on mine, and I tell myself to fight him, but I don’t, I can’t. He is sweet bliss and burning passion that steals my breath in all the right ways. The taste of him, all hot spicy demand and primitive need, has my senses swimming and I try to think, but there is only what I feel. He molds me closer and somehow my hand is in his hair, spiking through those long, dark strands of sexiness I have missed touching. Just as I have missed him and this. My resistance is gone. I’m not sure I ever had any.

I sink into his kiss, twisting around to press my chest to his, burning alive in a way only he can make me burn, and he is heaven in the midst of hell. Every swipe of his tongue is liquid heat and an escape I can find nowhere else.

“I swear to you, woman,” Liam vows, tearing his mouth from mine, framing my face with his hands, “from this point on, I’m going to keep you naked and in bed with me where I know you’re safe.”

Emotion thickens my throat. “If only it were that simple. But it’s not. We both know it’s not. “

“It is. It will be. I’ll make it that simple.” He dips his head to kiss me again and I don’t fight him. I need just a few moments of escape, a tiny promise that there is hope for me and us, and for some kind of peace in my life. But as his lips graze mine, that peace is shattered all too easily by the simple sound of a cellphone ringing, radiating through the car from the front seat.

I go still, the realization ripping through me like a cold blast of ice. We are not alone. I start to pull away from Liam.

He holds onto me. “Wait. Amy--”

“Making me feel like a prisoner isn’t going to earn my trust, Liam.”

He curses and lets me go. I scramble away, twisting around to sit in the center of the back seat of the sedan, too much like the one in my flashback, rain pounding hard and fast on the rooftop, echoing my heartbeat. The long rows of lights and the open space tell me we’re headed for a small airfield of some sort.

“We’re almost there,” the driver is saying to the caller, and his short haircut and hard tone are a little too much like the military types I’d seen on some of my father’s security teams. Just like this car is a little too much like the one in my flashback.

Liam touches my arm and heat flashes up it, forcing me to withdraw to lean on the opposite door. “Who is he, Liam? And where are we going?”

“Someone who needs a lesson in silencing his ringer,” he grumbles, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “His name is Tellar Phelps. He handles security work for me when I need him.”

“Translation. You hired him to help find me.”

“And protect you.”

My fingers curl into my palms. “Strangers do not make me feel protected. They make me nervous. Where are we going?”

Tellar halts the car. “Nowhere if we don’t move now,” he informs us. “The weather’s getting dicey. We have air clearance that could change at any moment.”

I don’t look at him. “Where are we going, Liam?”

He pulls me to him. “We’re going to get the hell out of here before whoever paid to find you at that diner catches up to us.”

My throat goes dry. I’d forgotten this warning back at the diner. “Who?” I whisper. “Who else is trying to find me?”

“That’s a good question, Amy.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, but don’t think I haven’t been trying to find out.”

In that moment I am as tormented over Liam as ever. If he really doesn’t know, then he is trustworthy, but he’s also in danger because of me. I do not want him, or anyone else, hurt because of me. Not again. Not ever again. “Liam--”

Thunder clamors loudly, swallowing my words, and he grabs my hand. “Let’s get out of here while we still can do it safely.”

Safely. There is the key word in all of this. I don’t know if anything about being with Liam is ever safe for him or me, but I’m not sure being without him is either. Good intentions or not, I have no doubt Liam will force me onto this plane. I’m his captive. The willing part is still up for debate.

He opens the car door and I gasp at the shocking blast of cold rain that blows over us. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, nuzzling my cheek and lacing his fingers with mine. “Let’s get this over with.” And then, in typical Liam style, I’m being pulled outside and into the storm with him, leaving me no time to object.

Beside us, Tellar exits the vehicle as well, the rain whipping around him as he cuts around the car toward the trunk. Liam’s arm wraps around my shoulders and he tugs me close to his side, sheltering me as much as he can. Protecting me, I tell myself, as we rush toward what looks like a fairytale large jet plane that normal people can’t afford to charter. But then, Liam is no more normal than I am. I’m reminded that this similarity has often felt like the sparkle in a diamond otherwise too damaged to shine. It’s how we connected the dots of him to me and me to him. And as the water pours off of us, I cannot help but wonder which of us is truly pulling the other into the storm.

We reach the ladder and he urges me forward, up the steps. A pretty forty-something woman in a navy blue uniform and a badge greets me at the entryway and wraps me in a large towel. “Oh, you poor thing,” she says, directing me down the slim hallway to make room for Liam.

I step into a high-end fancy cabin that is far from commercial, with a large tan leather couch on one side and several luxury seats on the other. “Past the curtain,” Liam directs, handing me another towel the stewardess must have given him. “Buckle in. I’ll be right there.”

Liam turns away from me and I jump as the cabin door slams shut, grinding my teeth as I do. I’m tired of more than the lies that carve out every piece of my life. I’m tired of always being nervous and twitchy.

Turning, I find Liam’s back to me, one hand on a seat, Tellar sauntering down the hallway, towel drying what little hair he hasn’t buzzed away. I study him, expecting a pinch of recognition but finding none. And still I do not look away, and not because his wet t-shirt and jeans hug a long and leanly muscled body, or the fact that he has a handsomely carved face. No. What has my attention, what keeps me from looking away, is the jagged scar down his jawline that tells me he has lived through hell.

His gaze lifts abruptly and meets mine and I should feel like a dripping wet trapped rat. I should look away, hiding as I always hide. But I have changed these past few weeks. I am on a mission to take my life back and waiting tables in a greasy diner wasn’t about hiding. It was about preparing and planning. I am done with looking away and I hold his stare. And what I see in his is not anger, or intimidation, or malice. I see concern.

Liam must see it as well, because he turns to face me, water clinging to the loose strands of hair draped on his forehead that he sweeps away. “You okay?” he asks, moving toward me, his hands coming down on my shoulders. The engines roar to life but I do not move, captured by his stare, a mix of burning fire and freezing ice. Worry. Sincerity. Possessiveness. Like I am his to protect and no one will touch me. Not unless he decides to let them. And when I walked onto this plane, I made sure it’s his choice to make. He is in Total control.

Chapter Four

I stand with my back to the curtain, while Liam’s back is to the front of the plane, his big body caging me…protecting me? It’s what I want to believe. It’s what some part of me needs to believe. We stare at each other, rain humming a song against the steel plane, wrapping us in a current of energy that pulses around us like a large charge. It’s power. His power. My lack of it. This is the what everything in my life has come down to. The control everyone else has that I don’t. The control Liam possesses as easily as he does his next breath. And staring into his piercing, aqua eyes, I think that no matter how I try to stop it from happening, I am possessed. He possesses me.

With that thought, a shiver races through me, one part chill from my wet clothes and hair, one part the impact of this man standing before me. What looks and feels like real concern seeps into Liam’s expression and he breaks the mesmerizing spell of questions that never seem to have answers as he begins rubbing my arms. “I’ll get you a blanket.” He starts to turn away and I grab his arm, silently willing him to wait. “I need to know where we’re going, Liam.” My lips tighten. “I need to know where you’re taking me.”

His head dips intimately lower, his hand caressing my head, cheek near mine.“You were right the first time, Amy. Where we’re going.”

I fight through the warmth his soft, velvety promise creates in me. “By your choice.”

“I want it to be yours.”

“Until I don’t choose what you want me to.”

A turbulent look flickers over his handsome face. “If you mean, will I let you choose to hitchhike across the country and end up dead? Then you’re right. No more and never again. I’ve made that decision for you.”

“Mr. Stone,” says the flight attendant, urgency in her tone.

Liam’s lips thin, reluctance etched in his face as he glances over his shoulder, and I hear her say, “Weather reports show another system moving through. If we leave now we have a path to bypass it.”

“Right,” Liam agrees. “We’ll sit down and buckle up.” He turns back to me. “We need to--”

“Where, Liam?” I bite out, fighting a rising sense of claustrophobia that has me ready to bolt for the door that is already shut. “Where are we going?”

His hands come back down on my shoulders, light but somehow heavy at the same time. “Where I can protect you.”

“Which is where?”

“My home.”

Adrenaline surges through me. Not Denver. His home is not in Denver, where, somewhere in the haze of a flashback and fear, I’d assumed we were going. “New York,” I choke out.

“Yes,” he confirms tightly. “New York.”

“No.” I shake my head. “No. I can’t go back there. I left for a reason.”

“No one will ever know you’re there.”

No one will ever know. His words make my stomach knot. I could disappear tomorrow and no one would miss me.

“Mr. Stone,” the attendant calls from behind him. “I must insist you sit.”

I need off this plane. I try to step around Liam, and talk to the attendant, though I have no clue what to say or if it will matter. Liam seems to anticipate the move, shackling my waist with one arm, and molding me to his hard, wet body.

“Let go,” I order tightly, willing away the heat stirring low in my belly at his nearness.

“We’re going to sit down now, Amy.”

“I don’t want to sit down.”

He yanks open the curtain, and using his larger size to bully me, walks us into the cabin behind us, then all but physically lifts me and sets me down in a chair. I have only a moment to assess the cabin area as identical to the one we just left when his hands go down on the arms of my seat, his arms caging me, and the engines churn roughly to life.

We glare at each other and I both loathe and revel in the way his heated, angry stare burns through me like a brand. It’s unsettling to be this drawn to him beyond reason when I’m this at his mercy. “There was a reason I left New York,” I grind out through my teeth. “Were you part of that reason, Liam?”

Emotion flashes in his eyes, something I cannot name but find I want to understand. And it’s that something else that jabs at my heart, like I hurt him. Did I hurt him? I don’t know how to react or how to handle any of this. “Liam--”

“I’m doing what I have to do to keep you safe. We’re going to New York. End of discussion.” He grabs my seat belt and hooks it into place. “Don’t make me tie you up because if that’s what it takes to keep you here, I will.”

Tie me up? I swallow hard against a lump forming in my throat, but not from the threat. From the emotion vibrating in his voice as he’s issued it. The plane starts to move. Liam pushes away from me and walks to the curtain, yanks it shut, then claims the seat directly in front of me instead of beside me. His eyes meet mine and I do not like what I find there. I do not like the distance that I’ve spent nearly two months putting between us. I do not like that I think...I think I hurt him.

We start taxiing and the plane is one big jerky nightmare with the obvious impact of high winds and a promise that I’m going where it’s going. Where Liam has decided I will go but the worry over control and even New York fade into one thing. This man. Who he is and what we are together makes all the rest irrelevant. Those things define what comes next.

Tightening my grip on the armrests, I block out the loud rush of engines and wicked shudders of the plane as we lift off, squeezing my eyes shut. I replay moments with this man as I have so many times before. The first time our eyes met in the airport. The moment in my apartment when he’d trapped my hands and I’d instinctively trusted him when I had trusted no one but some invisible handler for six long years.

Trusted him.

Just as my gut had told me to trust my handler that day in the hospital, it told me to trust Liam. And he’s done nothing to hurt me and everything to help me. My lashes lift and he’s still staring at me, watching me. I do not like the hardness in his face I didn’t see before we sat down. He is angry and...hurt? Yes. I think he’s hurt.

“I’m just trying to survive, Liam,” I confess. “You gave me reasons not to trust you. I just...I need answers.”

“That’s what I was trying to find out when you got spooked and ran off.”

“Well I’m here now. Who are you in all of this?”

 “Just a man who cares.”

It’s a perfect answer, if it comes from the right place with the right motives. “Why?”

“Every time you ask that question, I’ll answer the same.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his powerful thighs. “I care. It’s that simple.”

“Nothing in my life is that simple.”

“I am.”

“No.” I laugh without humor. “We’ve had this discussion before. You are anything but simple or normal.”

“Well then, let me make at least one thing simple for you, Amy. Anyone who wants to hurt you has to come through me first.”

His vow punches me in the chest, a bittersweet, tempting promise that could easily be a deadly poison that tears away caution I can’t afford to let fall. “You’re right. You keep answering my questions the same way and saying all the right things. I can’t just take your word. I need more. I need...more.”

He scrubs his jaw and then sighs. “I wanted to wait to do this when we were alone and you felt safe, but I can see that to ever get to that point you need to know what I know. So here are the facts.” He runs both hands over his thighs to rest at his knees. “And when we get to New York, I’ll show you all the documentation.”

“I’m listening,” I whisper, unable to find my voice, hanging by a thread over what he might confess or where in my past he might lead me.

“I knew you were running scared,” he continues, “and I didn’t trust your boss. I told you that.”

“Yes,” I agree. “You were clear on that and I was clear when I told you not to look into my background. You were clear when you said you wouldn’t. I trusted you at your word.”

“You were terrified out of your mind. What kind of man sits back and just watches that? Your boss doesn’t exist beyond a shell on paper, Amy.”

“I told you not to dig.”

His eyes narrow on me. “So you knew he wasn’t real. It was a cover story.”

He’s too close to the real me, whoever she is, for comfort. “What matters is you broke a promise.”

“But you didn’t know about the camera,” he continues as if I haven’t spoken, adding things together far too quickly. “You couldn’t have or you wouldn’t have accused me of installing it. Interestingly, the fake boss is the person who set up the Amy Bensen identity.”

It’s not a question. It’s a sharp jab in my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes narrow on mine. “Yes, you do. Amy Bensen has no school pictures, no connections of any sort, and no real life. She doesn’t even have fingerprints on file. But did you know that Jasmine Heights, Texas has an abduction prevention program that fingerprints kids? You were fingerprinted in kindergarten.”

I go still inside but my hands are shaking as I curl my fingers into my palms. “What?”

 “That’s right, Amy. You were fingerprinted, or rather, Lara was fingerprinted and supposedly died in a house fire six years ago. That’s what her death certificate says. That’s what your death certificate says.”

I can barely breathe just hearing my real name being spoken out loud for the first time since the fire, but even more so at the news he’s delivered with it. I’m dead. The real me didn’t just leave Jasmine Heights behind. Someone buried me alive. The finality of all that once was and can never be again. There is nothing left. Nothing. The shaking has turned to trembling all over. “I...no. I...no...” I squeeze my eyes shut, the flames flickering in my mind’s eye, hearing my brother’s shout. My mother’s screams. “No.” I press my hand to my face.

Liam curses and then I don’t even remember him moving but he is kneeling in front of me, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. “I knew I should have waited until we were safe and dry.” He caresses hair from my face. “It’s going to be okay. You’re not alone anymore.”

 “Nothing is okay,” I rasp out, grabbing his shirt “Nothing has been okay for six years.”

“I know, baby, and I’m going to try to change that for you now.”

“Were you involved? Tell me if you were involved. Good or bad or right or wrong, I have to know.”

“No. God no, Amy.” His hands go to the sides of my face. “I would never hurt you.”

“Then tell me, who is making my life hell?”

He looks stunned and his hands go to my shoulders, almost as if he’s steadying me.  “You don’t know?”

“Do you?”

“No. But I’m trying to find out. I’m going to find out.”

A confusing mix of relief and disappointment fills me. “You really don’t know?”

His lips thin into a grim line and he shakes his head. “No. I wish I did.”

“You tried to find out?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“So even with all your money and power, you have no answers.”

“Not yet. I will.”

Blood rushes in my ears and my hands go to his shoulders. “No. No, if you are what you seem to be--”

“If I am what I seem to be? What do I seem to be?”

“Good. Right.”

He grabs my hand and holds them between us. “I am right, Amy. Right for you. Right for us.”

“Then you need out of this. You don’t know what you’re involved in.”

“Do you even know, Amy? Do you have any idea what you’re running from?”

“Death, Liam. I’m running from death, which is exactly why I tried to keep you out of it. That’s why I told you not to dig around. So you don’t end up dead too, but what did you do? You dug around. You think no one knows what you’re doing? You think they won’t be watching you for me?”

“I’m not going to end up dead and neither are you.”

“My family’s dead. People have died. You could die. I can’t let that happen.”

“You ran to protect me?”

Ashamed, I look away, fighting the burn in my eyes. “I was too weak to run to protect you.”

“Amy,” Liam prods gently, his finger sliding under my chin, turning my face to his.

The instant my eyes meet his, I confess, “I kept telling myself to leave but you were...we were...I just couldn’t.”

“You are not weak. You’ve been through hell and survived and you’re going to keep surviving. We are not going to die.”

“You don’t--”

“I do. We will get through this.” He unhooks my belt and stands, pulling me to my feet with him. “I won’t have it any other way.” And the conviction in his voice, deep in his eyes, vibrates through me, intense but somehow soothing.

“I want you to be right.”

His lips quirk in that arrogant, confident way of his. “I am.” He sits down and pulls me into his lap, draping me over his legs as I had been in the car. “And we are.”

I inhale his familiar scent with a deep breath, and it is sweet honey pouring into the emptiness that has become my life. Slowly, my body melts into his, my lashes lower. I just don’t have it in me to fight him, let alone distrust him. I don’t want to be alone when I can be with Liam. But as I snuggle closer to him, I cannot help but wonder if my story was a book and someone was reading it, would they call me naive and stupid? The very idea makes me angry, defensive even, and I do not know why when it’s nothing but an invisible critic. But then, everything and everyone who has attacked me has been invisible and I find myself mentally making my own case.  I was eighteen when I heard my mother being burned alive, suddenly left without money and resources, barely breathing from the pain of loss myself. Maybe I should have tried harder to find answers, but most days just waking up felt like climbing mountains. Except now. In this man’s arms. Would those who would judge me truly pick hitchhiking, and collapsing in flashbacks while digging uselessly for answers on their own over gambling on this man’s arms?

If they would, then they are not me. I am staying with Liam Stone...live, die, or whatever that means.

* * *

I’m having the dream again. The one where Liam is with me, holding me, making me feel safe and cared about. There is warmth and happiness when life has taught me to expect ice and pain. I like this dream, and wanting it to last, I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, savoring a sense of being warm and safe I do not remember feeling much in my adult life. Inhaling, I draw in the rustic, spicy male scent that tells me I am with Liam. I am with Liam. My eyes pop open and the night’s events flood my mind. The diner. The car and the driver who took us to the airport. Liam pulling me onto his lap on the plane. The plane. The hum of the engine is still present, just as I am still on Liam’s lap, curled into his body, his head resting on mine, his breathing slow and steady. I’m on top of him and he’s asleep. And because I was with him, I was able to sleep, too.

Trust.

That is the word that comes to me. I trust him. Right or wrong, that is what he makes me feel. He has from the moment I met him. It could be instinct or stupidity. I’ve tried to think of it as the latter and make my own way. I went to sleep willing to live or die with Liam, and I am awake again, and I still feel that way. I have been alone so very long. Too long. And the truth is, there are answers to be found and he has the resources to find them.

He shifts slightly and his grip tightens around me, as if he’s afraid I’ll escape. As if he’s afraid this is a dream also. He nuzzles my neck and I lean into his touch as he murmurs,  “You’re awake.”

His voice, soft silk, and deep, male sex appeal, radiates through me, and tells me this is real. He is real. And maybe, just maybe, everything I’ve felt for him, and with him, is too. “Yes,” I whisper, lifting my head and blinking him into view, his dark hair now a dried, finger-rumpled mess that somehow only makes him sexier. I stroke my fingers over the dark stubble on his jaw. “And you’re really here.”

“Mr. Stone?”

We both look up to find the flight attendant in the doorway to the cabin. “Please. I need her in her seat. We’re preparing to land. We need everyone buckled up.”

“Oh yes,” I quickly agree, scooting off of Liam’s lap. Or I try. He holds on to me.

“Not just yet.” He glances at the flight attendant. “Consider it done.”

Her lips purse but she takes his words for the dismissal that they are and departs.

Liam’s fingers lace into my hair and he drags my mouth to his for a long, drugging kiss. The landing gear churns from the belly of the plane and his lips reluctantly leave mine. “Now you can get up.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” the flight attendant chides tartly, jerking my gaze to where she has poked her head back into the cabin. “In a seat, please.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks and I scramble off of Liam’s lap, into the seat beside him to buckle up. The flight attendant disappears and Tellar appears in the doorway. “You have to sit down,” the flight attendant scolds from behind him.

Tellar lifts a hand. “I’m sitting. I’m sitting.” He claims the seat in front of me. “Jeez. Women. They really can be nags.”

My head prickles and an image of my brother saying the same thing flickers in my mind. I swallow hard and shove aside the image, but somehow I repeat what I’d said to Chad so long ago. “Men. They really can be pains in the backside.”

Tellar snorts and looks at Liam. “You’re right. She looks sweet, but she’s feisty. I think I should make friends before I get my ass kicked. We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Tellar. Tellar Phelps.”

I don’t even know how to introduce myself. Hi, I’m a dead girl named Lara? I’m the fake girl named Amy? “Tellar is an interesting name,” I say, doing the avoidance thing I do almost as well as I tell the lies I despise so much.

 “Interesting is one way of putting it. My father was military. He and my uncles loved the whole ‘Tell her you love her. Tell her she’s beautiful. Tell her--”

“What she wants to hear,” I supply without even meaning to. It just sort of happens and so does the ache in my gut that comes with the idea that he or Liam might be doing just that.

Liam grabs my hand and his is strong and warm. He laces his fingers with mine, drawing my gaze to his, as he says, “I won’t keep the truth from you, no matter how brutal. You have my word.”

But he hadn’t told me everything in Denver and unbidden, a memory smashes into me. I can handle Amy. It had been those cold words that made me sound like a puppet he controlled and had made me feel that what I’d overheard had been more than Liam just snooping around. I try to jerk my hand from Liam’s.

He held onto it, his eyes narrowing. “What just happened?”

“Nothing just happened.” But I don’t want to say more and I don’t want to go where these thoughts are taking me. I want to stay in the land of trust and temptation.

“Something just happened,” Liam counters.

The plane jumps and shakes and out of nowhere a wave of nausea overcomes me. I lean forward, almost doubling over and unhook my belt. Liam’s hand comes down on my back. “Amy.”

“I’m okay,” I whisper, unhooking my belt. “I just...I need a minute.” I’m on my feet, darting to my left before he can stop me.

Somehow, I make it to the bathroom without heaving and shove inside the tiny room, shutting the door. The plane shudders again and I struggle with the lock, almost feeling myself turn green, and I give up on the door. Turning, I hang over the tiny toilet, knots balling in my gut.  A metal taste forms in my mouth and I gag, but there is nothing to come up. I can’t even remember the last time I ate.

“Amy?” Liam says from the hallway and I squeeze my eyes shut, angry that his caring matters to me. Angry that I’ve convinced myself to trust him without knowing all the facts. I’m just this stupid young girl who isn’t young anymore. I can’t keep using that excuse.

“Amy. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I manage, noting the urgency in his voice and grabbing the sink to blink my ratty, horrible hair into view. I might not know who the girl in the mirror is anymore, but she sure looks like something the dog dragged in.

The door creaks and I turn as Liam appears in the tiny entryway, those intense eyes of his seeing too much. Despite the rain that has drenched us both, unlike me, he doesn’t look like hell. He looks like sex and sin and the temptation I can never say no to. “You’re sick to your stomach,” he says, stating the obvious.

“I...no.” Damn it, I hate the lies and yet they flow from my mouth like water from a faucet. “It passed. I haven’t eaten and...I’m okay.”

He doesn’t so much as blink, nor does he show any signs of budging and giving me a chance to collect myself. He just stands there, and every second he does, he is temptation turning to double temptation. He consumes the tiny space, and me with it, and he doesn’t even have to try. “Is this the first time you’ve been sick?” he finally asks.

I know where this is headed and I’m not ready for this conversation. Not here. Not now. “I got sick. It’s done.”

His lips tighten and I hold my breath, knowing he’s about to push, but unexpectedly, the wheels hit the ground and we tumble into each other, his strong arms wrapping around me, his big body collapsing around me to hold me steady. And I lean into him, wrapping my arms around him, holding on as if I am holding on for dear life. I think maybe I am. I think...maybe he’s my last hope. Or maybe, he’s my final destruction.

Too soon and not soon enough, the plane jerks to a stop and then begins a slower crawl. He frames my head and forces my eyes to his, searching my face. I don’t know what he sees. I don’t try to hide anything. He knows too much. I know too little.

His thumb strokes my jaw. My lip. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Desperately, I burn to simply live in this moment, drown in the tenderness I see in his eyes, but instead I hear his words to Derek in my head again. I can handle Amy. Instantly, I stiffen, flattening my hand on his chest, intending to push him away, but like always, I do not. “Yes, Liam. Yes, we do.” His heart pounds beneath my palm. Races. He is affected by me, by us, and by my reaction to what he has said. On some core level I believe that is because he cares about me and I need him to deserve the trust that comes with that and I add, “I have questions.”

“So do I.”

I lift my chin, making a decision in that moment I know is as right as he always feels. “I won’t tell you anything you don’t already know.”

“Because you don’t fully trust me.”

“Because I can’t afford to fully trust anyone.”

He laces his fingers with mine. “I’m going to prove to you that I’m the exception, Amy.” He tugs me close, pressing his hand to the small of my back. “But right now, I just want to remind you how good we feel together. I want you naked and in my bed, where you belong.”

Heat swirls low in my belly and I can almost feel myself melt for this man at his perfect answer that is pure seduction. Almost too perfect in a world where everything has been a lie. I would know. I’m the queen of lies.

Chapter Five

Someone wanted me out of New York.

That is what is in my mind as we exit the plane at JFK Airport and enter a private wing of some sort that I didn’t even know existed. We depart the seating area and enter a main walkway, where Liam and I fall into step side by side. Any comfort I garner from him being next to me is diminished to near zero by Tellar moving ahead of us, and my uncomfortable impression that he’s ready to take a bullet to protect us.

Liam seems to sense as much, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and bringing us thigh to thigh, his big body sheltering mine as if he knows that is what I need right now. And I do feel sheltered by this man, protected. It’s taken me years, but I’ve come to believe that my instincts about people and events are strong. Even as a teenager, I’d sensed there was more going on with my family than I’d understood, and I’ve beaten myself up a million times for doing nothing, though I still I have no idea what I could have possibly done.

Liam urges me forward. I follow Tellar down the escalator with Liam on my heels, and I watch a secluded walkway come into view, scanning for that Godzilla behind a wall waiting to jump out at me. Liam takes my hand as we head toward a private exit and I silently amend that to at us, reminding myself of what I would prefer to forget. Nothing has changed since Denver.  Liam is either a danger to me or in danger because of me. I can’t win.

Exiting through a side doorway, I shiver at both the cold October New York night and the reminder that my thin cotton waitress uniform is my only possession in this world. I’ve lost everything again, and though I had very little, I’ve discovered that even something can feel like everything.

“Quickly,” Liam says, ushering me toward yet another black sedan with the backdoor already open, and his urgency sets my adrenaline rushing.

I climb inside the car with Liam fast behind me. Tellar settles behind the wheel in the driver’s seat and it hits me that they are urgent to get me deeper into New York City and I was told to leave by my handler, who is now MIA. My hand goes to my throat. Oh God. What if he died warning me to leave New York?

Tellar starts the car and I shout, “Wait!” and then turn to Liam, “Coming here was a mistake. You’ve been asking questions about me and you were with me in Denver. They could be watching your home. They could know we’re here.”

“Who is they, Amy?” Liam asks, a command to his voice, his expression grave. “Talk to me so I know what I’m dealing with.”

“I told you, I don’t know.” I grab his hand. “Please, Liam. Let’s go somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

His lips thin and his jaw sets hard. “We’re here tonight. I know we’re safe. We’re staying.” He taps Tellar’s seat. “Go.”

Adrenaline and anger surges inside me and I yank my hand from his. “So there it is. Proof my opinion matters only when I agree with you. I’m a prisoner.”

“Proof that we’re sitting ducks under a streetlight, Amy, and that we have no plan beyond this one. We need a plan. I have private parking at my home and the windows are tinted dark both in the car and my home. No one will know. And once we’re at my apartment, I have the best security money can buy.”

“We can’t stay locked up in your apartment forever.”

“And you can’t keep running forever either.”

“I left everything behind and got out of New York for a reason. What part of that do you not understand?”

“And that reason was what? What spooked you that night I met you?”

I open my mouth and snap it shut as his words replay in my mind.  I can handle Amy. The coldness of that statement bites back any confessions about my handler’s existence. “Safety,” I reply simply and still honestly. “I left because New York isn’t safe for me.”

Liam’s eyes harden, his jaw tenses and I sense rather than see, his frustration. “You do know, the more you tell me, the easier it is for me to protect you, don’t you?”

“I was living in New York and I left. That should tell you all you need to know.”

“All that tells me is what I already knew. You need my protection.”

“Why do I keep feeling like that word means captivity?”

He pulls me close, his fingers a tight vise on my arm, his body warm, hard like his voice. “Because that’s what you’ve been in for six long years and I know you want it to end. I want it to end, too.”

“I need my life back, Liam. That’s true, but you taking it over isn’t going to do that for me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, baby. Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to get your life back, which means keeping you alive to enjoy it. Even if you hate me in the process.”

He lets go of me and settles back in his seat, staring straight ahead, his body as stiff and unyielding as his declaration. I stare at him a moment, a million things I want to shout at him racing through my mind while I wish away Tellar. Somehow, I force myself to fall back on the seat and stare forward. The next few seconds of silence ripple with tension and electricity, until I’m about to boil over with emotion.

“You are making me crazy, Liam,” I say, twisting in my seat, pressing my hand to his chest. “If we were alone, I would--”

“You would what?” he challenges, tangling his fingers in my hair and dragging my mouth a breath from his. “Because I can think of a lot of things I would do if we were alone right now.” And before I can catch my breath, his mouth slants over mine and he is kissing me, a deep, passionate, emotional kiss, that is anguish and pain, and everything I haven’t said but I feel. “And alone,” he adds softly when his lips gently lift from mine, “can’t be soon enough for me.”

Nor me, I think, my breath coming out in a pant. My body is on fire, nipples aching, a low throb between my thighs. I want him to kiss me again as much as I fear he will and I’ll forget Tellar is here this time.

Somehow I force myself to lower my head to Liam’s chest, to discover the wild thrum of his heartbeat, the proof he is on the edge of the proverbial cliff with me. With me. I like how that feels. I am not alone when I am with Liam.

His hand comes down on my head, a gentle but somehow seductive touch, and my lashes lower. My body relaxes into his, and for the first time in months I’m not thinking about Godzilla.  I’m not thinking about lies and trust. There is just Liam.

* * *

Considering Liam is a brilliant architect who inherited a fortune from a brilliant architect, it’s no surprise that his home is in New York’s ritzy Greenwich Village and resembles a stone castle on the edge of the Hudson River with a tower next to it.  But what does surprise me is that in a city where parking is non-existent, we enter through a double metal gate that allows us entry to private parking under the ‘castle’.

“You designed the building didn’t you?” I ask, glancing at Liam as automatic lights flicker to life in what appears to be a four car garage.

“It was Alex’s brilliance I inherited when he passed,” he replies, Alex being his father figure and mentor. “There’s the main house where I live and a fifteen-floor building next door that houses twenty-five luxury apartments.”

“Is this where he mentored you?”

“Yes. It is.” And there is a wistful sadness to his voice that tells me he still misses the man who’d come to mean so much to him.

I wonder what it must have been like to be only thirteen, living in poverty with a single mom and an absent father, and being suddenly pulled into this world of wealth and power. “He changed your life.”

“In more ways than you can possibly imagine.” He takes my hand. “But I want you to.”

Tellar opens my door, and for an instant Liam and I just stare at each other, a warm understanding spreading between us. Me being here isn’t about Liam holding me captive. It’s about what he’d once said to me about giving what you get in return. This trip to his home is about him trusting me by inviting me into his life, where few are welcomed.

“Let’s go inside,” Liam urges softly.

That warm feeling seeds deeper inside me and becomes heat and fire. And hope. I feel more hope than I have felt in months. “Yes. Let’s.” I slide out of the car, and the nerves I’ve juggled for hours are now blessedly mixed with anticipation rather than fear.

Straightening, I take in my surroundings to find a garage that also holds a sleek convertible Jaguar and no other cars, and I’m somehow certain it’s Liam’s only one, when he could afford a fleet. It hits me that he’d flown commercial the night I’d met him though he can obviously afford a private jet. I wonder what makes a man as powerful and wealthy as him pull back just beyond truly extravagant one moment and throw money at everything the next.

My gaze lifts as a buzzer goes off and Tellar disappears through one of two doors.  Liam steps to my side and leads me to the other, keying a code into a panel and opening the door. “Welcome to my home,” he says with an extravagant wave of his hand.

I smile at the gesture and head up a small set of stucco steps to reach the grand foyer of the home where I blink in awe. Everything, from the intricately painted tiles beneath my feet of varied designs to the high triangle-shaped ceiling, is spectacular.

Dashing fingers through his dark hair, Liam joins me in the center of the room, towering over me like the dangling teardrop chandelier above me that glistens with tiny lights. I tilt my chin up to study it. “It’s magnificent.”

“Alex was big on small details which made him exceptional at design work.”

“Like you are,” I comment, shifting my gaze from the fixture to him again.

“I can only hope to one day be as brilliant as he was.”

I think of the many hours of research on Liam Stone I’d done in my time away from him and all the praise he’s been given by experts. “Many believe you already are.”

“And I’d humbly submit that they are mistaken.” He laces his fingers through mine and motions to the left. “Come,” he says, and then leads me under a magnificent stone archway.

Stopping just inside the new room, the tiles have given way to some sort of shiny, amazing dark wood and I am immediately in love with the cozy setting of warm brown leather couches and chairs, a fireplace, and several huge wide round pillars set in front of the amazing ceiling-to-floor windows.

Liam’s hand settles on my lower back. “There’s a view of the Hudson River from every almost every room in the house. In the daylight it feels like you’re sitting on the water.”

But now there is only the inky blackness of the night sky dotted with city lights that seem to form a triangle, like the tattoo on my handler’s wrist, and at least partially resembling the one on Liam’s stomach. Like the pyramids Liam is as obsessed with as my father and brother were, though despite my efforts otherwise, I’ve found this to be nothing but mutual interest that seems justified by their career choices.

I pull away from Liam, walking toward the stairs to stand in front of the window and I hear my father’s voice in my head. Beneath the ground are the secrets of the universe. We just have to uncover them. From third grade through the rest of grade school, I was home-schooled and went on digs with my family. I’d developed the passion to uncover those secrets and thrilled at every second of our exploration. Now, I need to uncover the secrets, not of the universe, but of why my father and the rest of my family were stolen away from me too soon. And I will.

“I will,” I whisper vehemently.

“You will what?” Liam’s hands come down on my shoulders, goose bumps rising on my skin, the low, familiar, and somehow soothing sound of his voice echoing by my ear.

I turn to face him, my back to the eternal darkness of the sky, studying his handsome face, searching his eyes for something, though I don’t know what. “Find out the truth. No matter what it is or how painful it might be.”

“And I’m going to be there by your side and holding you up if you need me.”

“I need a minute, Liam.”

At the sound of Tellar’s voice, Liam and I both turn toward a door to my left where he’s standing in an archway. “Now?” Liam asks.

“That would be my preference,” Tellar agrees.

Liam’s jaw clenches and he strokes a hand down my hair. “I’ll be right back.” He doesn’t wait for an answer and I watch him disappear through the doorway with Tellar. My fingers curl by my sides and it’s as if I am sinking in the water beyond the window while they surf the top. Without a question, they’re talking about me and somehow I’m the outsider. I swore the day I overheard that conversation between Liam and Derek that I was taking control of my life. Standing here is not me taking control. And unlike Denver, when I had no clue if Liam and Derek truly meant to kill me, I do not fear for my life. I fear where my ignorance has kept me and where it will hold me down now.

I charge toward the door and push it open, entering what turns out to be a kitchen and the first thing I see is a unique round island in two-toned pale and dark blues, with fancy pots and pans hanging from black finished cabinets above it. Male voices sound from the other side and I walk toward them, bringing into view a finely etched black triangular table with eight black leather chairs, with not two, but three men standing around it. And for once it’s not Liam who has my attention. It’s the tall blond man in a finely fitted suit with his back to me.

Liam’s gaze lifts and finds mine. “Amy.”

The man in the suit turns and his eyes go wide. “Amy!”

“What are you doing here, Derek?” I demand, tension rippling through me at the memory of that night in Denver.

The next thing I know he grabs me and pulls me into an embrace. “Thank God you’re okay. I’d never have forgiven myself for spooking you if you’d gotten hurt.” He leans back to inspect me, glancing at Liam, who has appeared by my side. “And Liam would  have gone to jail for killing me, let me tell you.” He releases me, his hands going to his hips. “How are you?”

“Confused,” I say and hold up my hands, stepping back and bumping into the island. “And claustrophobic.”

Derek takes a step backwards as well and Tellar smartly stays on the other side of the table. “You’re upset.”

“Of course, she is,” Liam bites out. “Which is why I told you not to come by tonight.”

I frown at Derek. “Don’t you live in Denver?”

“I have a place here too and I feel like crap for spooking you back in Denver.”

“You didn’t. Liam did. I barely knew you. I trusted him.”

“Amy--” Liam begins and I cut him off, turning to face him.

“You’re in here having a meeting about me that doesn’t include me, Liam. I don’t like it.”

“You’ve been through enough for one night.”

“Believe me, if I haven’t broken already, I’m not going to break now.”

He grimaces. “That’s up for discussion.”

“Damaged, not broken, Liam. I made it six years without you running my life and coddling me. Suffocating me is not the way to make me feel safe with you again. Transparency is.”

His jaw flexes. “And if you have another flashback because of something I tell you?”

“I might not like my flashbacks, but I welcome anything that makes me remember.”

Liam’s eyes narrow on me a moment before he steps in front of me, his hands going to the counter on either side of my body, his body blocking the others from my view. “I knew you didn’t know certain things,” he says softly. “But you don’t remember?”

“No,” I whisper. “Or yes. Some of it. Not all of it.”

His eyes soften and he reaches up and drags gentle knuckles down my cheek. “Let’s do this in the morning when you’ve eaten and rested. They’ll still be here.”

I shake my head. “No. No. We’re here now and I’ll rest far better knowing what you already know.”

Concern etches his face. I want it to be real. It feels real. “You need to eat,” he finally says. “And sleep.”

“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep, Liam. I just want answers.”

His jaw clenches and he looks like he’s wrestling with himself over battling with me. “You really want to do this now.” It’s not a question.

“I’ve wasted six years of my life waiting. I’m not wasting another minute I don’t have to.”

“Very well, then.” He inhales and pushes off the counter, and Derek comes back into view, only now Tellar is standing on this side of the table as well. The two of them are staring at me. Liam is staring at me. The room shrinks and it suddenly feels like me against them, though I don’t think it’s really sudden at all. Maybe that’s how it’s been from day one.

Chapter Six

Liam looks between Tellar and Derek, and then at me. “Let’s all sit down and talk.”

I don’t move and neither does Tellar, who is standing directly in front of me, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and he’s not the friendly jokester of earlier. His jaw is as set and hard as his razor sharp features, his eyes sharper, angry. Is he upset with me? That makes no sense, but then not much in my life does.

I shake my head and mimic his position, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “No to sitting,” I say to Liam and then to Tellar, “Tell me what’s going on.” I cut an accusing look at Derek. “And who are you in all of this?”

Derek scrubs his jaw and plants his hands on his lean hips. “Jesus, Amy. I hate that you obviously think I’m some bad guy. I’ve spent weeks picturing you raped and murdered on the side of the road somewhere because of me.” He motions to Liam. “And Liam was losing his mind. Somebody had to keep his damn feet on the ground.”

“Update Amy,” Liam cuts in, redirecting the conversation right where I want it. To answers as he adds, “Tell her what you told us.”

Tellar flicks a surprised look at Liam. “Everything?”

“Yes,” Liam confirms. “Everything.”

“All right, then,” Tellar agrees and while his voice is soft, there is a razor edge to it to match his stare. “A man showed up at the diner looking for you after we left.”

Shocked when I probably should not be, considering what I’d been told earlier, I drop my arms, adrenaline surging through me. “Who was it?” I ask, and please let this be the moment I find out who is looking for me.

“A private eye,” he says.

Not the enlightening answer I hoped for. “Hired by whom?”

His gaze moves from me to Liam who gives him a nod before he continues with, “He never knew who hired him. Sealed envelopes. Untraceable funds. Very James Bond-ish.”

Disappointment fills me. “Do you believe him?”

“Yes,” Tellar confirms. “I believed him, but like most, he had a price. He was willing to do what was necessary to find out if ours was right and thanks to Liam, it was.”

A chill races down my spine and my throat constricts. “Had?” I ask hoarsely. “Was? Why past tense?”

“He was meeting up with my man when--”

“Your man?” I interrupt and turn to Liam. “How many people are involved in this? How many people did you tell about me?”

Liam’s expression tightens. “No one is involved that I don’t trust fully.”

“How many?” I repeat.

“How many isn’t the issue,” Tellar snaps. “What happened when my man went to meet that PI is what is—”

Something in his tone reaches beyond his obvious agitation and a sense of dread I think I intentionally sidestepped fills me all over again. “What happened?”

Liam takes my hand and pulls me close, facing him, my back to the other two men. “Before we go any further, I just want to reiterate that we’re safe here. Even the windows are hurricane-proof which also means bulletproof.”

“Bulletproof?” I choke out. “Why are you telling me they’re bulletproof? What happened?” Liam’s lips thin and his expression tightens. I don’t even wait for an answer. My fist balls at my chest. “Oh God. He’s dead.” I whirl around to face Tellar. “He’s dead?”

“Our man’s alive. The PI, however, is not. Someone killed him, so we have to assume it was to shut him up. Who the hell is after you, Amy and what do they want? Tell us before all of us end up dead.”

“I don’t know,” I rasp out. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You’ve been running and hiding for six years and you don’t even fucking know who you’re running from or why? Who would do that?”

I inhale and try to reel in the dark emotions he’s stirring to life. “You don’t know my story.”

“I know enough.”

“Enough is right, Tellar,” Liam snaps and he reaches for my hand. “Amy--”

I jerk away from Liam. “No,” I hiss, and in this moment I’m that book I’d compared myself to on the plane. Tellar is reading me, judging me, pretending to know what it was like, and it’s too much.  It’s all just...too much. My forehead prickles and I see the flames licking at my bedroom door. I hear Chad’s command for me to jump. I hear my mother’s wails of pain.

Liam says something else to me. I don’t know what and I don’t care. I am in my own head and in a wave of Tellar’s wrath that I do not like. “Who are you to judge me, Tellar?” I demand, and with no conscious decision to act, I snap and launch myself at him, grabbing his shirt before he even blinks. “Who are you to judge me?”

“Holy hell, woman,” Tellar growls but he doesn’t touch me. I want him to touch me. I want him to give me a reason to hit him. To lash out even more. I want to hit him and I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone in my entire life.

“Who are you to judge me?” I scream again. “Who are you? Don’t you think I’ve done enough of that myself?”

“Amy,” Liam roars behind me, his strong arm looping around my waist as he pulls me off of Tellar.

I lunge forward, fighting Liam, wanting back at Tellar, but Liam holds me hard against his body. “I listened to my mother scream as she was burning alive,” I hiss at Tellar, “and I couldn’t get to her. What state of mind do you think I was in? What resources did I have?” I jerk against Liam but still he holds me. “Let go, damn it. Let me go!”

“Not a chance,” Liam vows, his arms closing around my upper body like a vise, trapping my hands by my sides.

Tellar goes white as a sheet. “Oh God, Amy. You were in the house?”

My fingers curl into fists and I am shaking so hard my teeth start to chatter. “Yes. Yes, I was in the house, Tellar. I heard every last scream, and there was nothing but fire between them and me and a window...I jumped....” I sob and the tears bleed from my eyes, trailing like blood down my cheeks, over my lips... “I jumped out of the damn window when Chad...”

“Your brother,” he says.

My brother. Just hearing that word does me in. I explode into tears and it’s like my bones melt in my body. My legs just give way and Liam is all that holds me up. “Amy,” he murmurs, turning me into him, holding me close. “I’ve got you.”

Clutching at his shirt, I blink through the tears. Chad’s voice shouts in my ears. Jump. Jump now. “I shouldn’t have jumped. I should never have jumped.”

He frames my face in one hand, one arm wrapped around my waist, still holding me up. “Listen to me. Dying wouldn’t solve anything. You did what you had to do. You survived.”

“I survived and that’s all.”

“We’re going to change that, baby. I promise you. We’re going to change that.” He glances over my shoulder and speaks to Tellar and Derek. “We’re done here.” He tries to pick me up.

I stiffen and shove on his chest. “No. No. I can’t...won’t...I want to talk. I want to find who did this.” I force myself to straighten. “I’m okay.”

“No,” Liam insists. “You are not okay.” He tries to lift me into his arms. “We’re done here.”

“Stop.” I squirm and step away, wobbly but on my feet and getting stronger again. “I don’t want to just be okay and survive anymore. And I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Liam flicks a look toward Tellar and Derek. “Both of you. Get the hell out.”

I growl in frustration and swipe at my eyes. “Don’t make my decisions, Liam. They need to stay. I want answers and they want answers. It’s time to figure this out.”

Tellar and Derek ignore me and walk around us. “Stay here,” I shout after them.

“They aren’t staying, Amy,” Liam insists, like he is the Almighty and we are all at His command.

I level him a scathing stare. “Because you can handle me on your own, right?”

“What?” His brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

The kitchen door opens and closes and we are left alone. “I heard you, Liam. I told you that. I heard it all that night in Denver. Derek was worried about my reaction to the camera and you told him ‘I can handle Amy’. You can handle me? Well, news for you, Liam. Not only did you fail to ‘handle’ me back in Denver, you’re failing now, too. And that comment was what made me run more than anything else.”

He advances on me and backs me against the table, his powerful thighs capturing mine, his arms caging me. Heat washes over me, confuses my senses, and I hold onto the table so I won’t touch him. “I meant I’d make sure you felt safe and didn’t panic.” His voice is a low rasp of sandpaper, no caress of silk to be felt. “But you’re right. I failed and we both lived through hell because I did. You, far more than me, and I won’t let that happen again. I will protect you, Amy, with or without your consent.”

“Like you own me.”

“Call it what you want, but unlike that private detective who’s now dead, you’ll be alive on the other side of this.”

“People are dying and that’s my point which you don’t seem to be getting. So let me repeat what I’ve already asked. Who protects me from you, Liam?”

His head lowers, his breath is hot on my cheek, and there is an instant charge in the air. We are connected, he and I, and I don’t know if that is good or bad. It just...is. “Do you think you need protection from me, Amy?” he demands. “Is that where we still are?”

Somehow, I do what I know will be my undoing. It is always my undoing with this man and proof he is claiming the control I so desperately need. I touch him. My hand goes to his chest, and again I feel the thrum of his rapid heartbeat and it affects me. He affects me. Deeply. Passionately. Completely.  “I’m just...I’m confused.”

“That’s not the answer I want.”

“It’s the only one I have.”

“I know. I do and I can’t even say I blame you but that doesn’t mean I like it.” He shoves off the table, steps away from me, no longer touching me, leaving me cold. “We’ll talk tomorrow. We’re both tired. Take my bedroom. It’s directly above the foyer on the second floor. There are stairs you can’t miss. I can’t take you there. Not...now. Not tonight. I’ll be in the spare bedroom directly opposite the kitchen down here if you need me.” He starts to turn.

Desperation rises inside me. I can’t be without him. I don’t want to even try. I grab his arm, heat dashing up mine, our eyes colliding, torment burning in the depth of his. “Don’t go,” I whisper. Don’t leave me alone. I will him to touch me, to reach for me, but he doesn’t.

Arms tightly by his side, he curls his fingers into his palms. “I meant what I said. I’ll force my protection on you, but I won’t force me, or us, on you. And I can’t be with you and not touch you.”

Us. The word does funny things to my chest. “I didn’t tell you not to touch me. I’m just...” Raw and honest... “scared.”

“I know and it kills me to think you’re afraid of me.”

“That’s just it. I’m not afraid of you, Liam, and maybe I should be. Probably I should be. but I don’t trust myself. Not when I think about everything I could have done differently pretty much my entire life.”

“So if I feel right, I must be wrong.” It’s not a question.

“No. That’s not it. I mean...” I take a step toward him.

He steps backwards. “I can’t touch you, Amy.”

“I want you to touch me. I need you to touch me right now, Liam.”

“I won’t just touch you. I’ll do anything and everything in my power to make you remember us.

To make you believe your trust in us is as real and right as I know it is.”

“And that’s bad, why?”

 “You aren’t hearing me, Amy. I’ve spent weeks of sleepless nights worried over you and now that you’re here, I won’t ask for what I want. I’ll demand.”

 No one worries about me. No one knows I’m even alive anymore. No one I love even exists anymore. But him. He worries for me and I’ve run from him. I think I love this man but I can’t even trust that. I’m so sick of not trusting. Emotion wells in my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Please, Liam. Please demand.” I step forward and I grab his shirt before he can stop me this time, as desperate, or more, than when I’d done the same with Tellar. “Don’t you get it, Liam? I want you to make the doubt go away. I want you to force away the fears. But damn it, I want you to deserve it, too. I want it to be real. I need something in this world that feels real even if it isn’t.”

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t so much as blink. He just stares at me with heat radiating from his eyes, and I don’t know what that means. What does it mean? “Or don’t,” I whisper, releasing his shirt. “Just don’t. Just let me go, then.” I rotate around and I don’t even know where I intend to go. The stupid table is right behind me and I run right into it.

Liam’s hand comes down on my arm and he turns me to face him. “I’m not letting you go. Never again. I told you that.” And suddenly, I am being thrown over his shoulder and his hand has flattened erotically, possessively, on my backside.

We are through the kitchen to the living room, and charging up a set of stucco stairs before I can fully process that he’s gone caveman on me. I can’t see what is before us, only what is behind us, but I feel him shove open a door, see the dim lights flicker on. Smell the wickedly spicy scent of him everywhere around me. We are in his room and I have only a glimpse of a giant space with more floor-to-ceiling windows before I’m on top of some sort of massive four poster black wooden bed.

I lift to my elbows, and Liam is on one knee, one fist planted in the mattress by my hip, his thigh pressed to mine. Heat radiates from his impossibly hooded stare and he reaches down and strokes my hair. “You want to force away the fear?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have to be willing to feel it.”

I swallow hard. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing goes away because you pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“You think I haven’t figured that out?”

“I’ve been where you are and you aren’t where you need to be yet. Not with me and not with life. But you’re getting there.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Baby steps. You will.”

“I’m tired of baby steps.”

He strokes his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes holding mine. “Then face your fears.”

I make a frustrated sound. “I am. I’m trying. I want to. You have no idea how much I want to.”

He stands up and pulls me to my feet, turning me and pressing my back against one of the posts. “Do you?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

He studies me, seeming to weigh my words, perhaps my conviction, and I wonder what he sees in me that I do not. “Lace your hands behind the post,” he says, his voice a gentle command.

It is not like he has never tied me up before, but there is a crackle of energy around him I have never felt. But when I look into his eyes I feel that connection I always do, see a promise I don’t have to understand. I simply want whatever it is that he offers. I lace my fingers as he’s instructed. He leans a hand on the wooden surface above my head, touching me nowhere, leaving me aching for him everywhere.

“Remember what I told you before,” he murmurs. “Choosing to give away control is frightening, but it’s power. It’s facing a fear and overcoming it. We start here tonight. We’ll work toward the rest.”

I don’t ask what the rest is. I know. It’s me. Discovering the rest of me I’ve rejected or lost. The parts of me that hurt in a way no one should hurt. I nod. “Yes.” I want this and him.

“Good. I may seem in control, but you’re in control. No matter what I say or do, any time you say ‘no’, it’s no. That is what you have to remember. When you make the choice, you have the power.”

“Am I going to want to say no?”

“You will think you should.”

“But I shouldn’t?”

“You say no if you feel no and I’ll stop. You have my word.”

I am both terrified and aroused. “You’re confusing me.”

“I’m willing to bet I’m about to make things crystal clear. Keep your hands where they are. Don’t move.”

I nod. “Yes. Okay.”

His finger touches my cheek, then caresses slowly downward to my neck, and I feel the barely there touch everywhere, inside and out. Goose bumps lift on my skin, and I all but moan when he drags his finger over my breast and nipple. He drops his hand and I shiver with the delicate teasing sensations that linger where he’s touched, where he has not touched. He leans in closer, careful not to press his body to mine when that is exactly what I burn for, then lightly, so very lightly, brushes his lips over mine. A breath later, he is gone, leaving me gasping as he disappears behind me and it is all I can do not to turn to watch him.

My head dips as I inhale, trying to calm my raging hormones, and I can see only the finely woven rug overlapping the gorgeous dark wood beneath my feet. The room is silent but for a clock ticking somewhere nearby and the rasp of what I begin to realize is my breathing. I cannot hear Liam or see him and I can’t take it. I need to know where he is.

My gaze lifts and then shifts to land hard on the oval mirror that sits directly in front of me on top of a massive black wood dresser. I suck in a breath at the drenched rat in the cheap pink waitress dress staring back at me, and I do not like how she is not me and yet she is so me, or how the image pulls me from the escape I crave and throws me back into reality. A drawer opens behind me, soft and somehow thundering and loud in the near silence.  I welcome the way it shifts my focus back to anticipation, away from the reality in the mirror.

Liam’s reflection appears in the mirror with me and I can see what I would not otherwise. Him. His chest is bare, his clothes gone, but I am the one who is naked, stripped of my many emotional walls by this man who moves me so deeply. The same man who tells me to invite fear, so I do. I invite whatever it is he is to me and I am to him. He reaches around me and flattens his hands on my stomach, a silk sash dangling from his hand, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection. “I’m going to tie you up now, Amy.”

I wait for the fear I’m supposed to invite, but there is none. There is just anticipation, and the ache between my thighs, the heaviness of my breasts. For a moment, I study the finely carved lines of his handsome face, and I think about what he said to me. About what I need from him. What he needs from me. “You like tying me up.”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “I like what it represents.”

“Which is what?” I ask.

He ties my hands, wrapping them gently but firmly, then walks around me, framing my body with his, one hand on my waist, the other dragging through my hair and tilting my mouth to his. “Which is what, Amy?” he asks, expecting me to answer my own question.

“Trust,” I whisper, wishing his mouth on mine.

“That’s right,” he says, his breath whispering over my cheek, my lips, teasing me with a kiss yet to happen. “Trust.”

And when I think he will finally kiss me, he does not. He steps back and walks toward the dresser, giving me his back. I know then that he’s planned the direction I am standing, the placement of the mirror. Everything Liam does is calculated. Controlled. I think this quality in him is a drug for me. It is everything I wish I could be and cannot. I envy it in him, admire it. Find it sexy.

I forget my hands are tied and tug on the silk. If I’m supposed to be afraid, it’s not working. I’m wondering why I have my clothes on. I really want the ugly pink uniform off my body and him next to me.

He steps to the center of the dresser, directly in front of the mirror, and I expect him to look at me, but he does not. His head lowers, the dark thick waves of hair blocking my view of his expression. I can almost hear him thinking, debating, and I want to know what and why. I watch the mirror, wait with a hitched breath for his eyes to lift. When his eyes lift and collide with mine, the connection sizzles through me. Any hesitation he’d had is gone. I see the determination, the control, in his eyes, and I wonder if those things had been there only moments before.

He reaches down and pulls out a drawer. I can’t see what is inside. I’m not supposed to see. I know that. The not knowing is part of his control. Part of the anticipation and the tease I know he intends. Seconds tick by and I can barely stand the waiting until finally, he turns and faces me. My gaze drops, seeking that delicious ‘pi’ tattoo I have always found so very alluring, taking it in, and the thick jut of his erection, before it hits me that he is holding something. My gaze shoots back to what is in his hands and shock rolls through me, my breath lodging in my throat at what I see.

He is holding a gold dagger.

Chapter Seven

Liam starts walking toward me and I have to force myself to breathe. The dagger is sheathed in some sort of intricately designed casing, no blade exposed. Maybe it’s not even a real dagger. It can’t be real.

He stops in front of me and holds it up. “Scared?”

I wait a moment, expecting the fear to come, but it doesn’t. “What are you doing, Liam?”

He presses his hand above me and rests the cold gold between my breasts. “Are you scared?” he demands.

“I should be.”

“But you’re not?”

I wait for the fear again, but there is only liquid heat spreading low in my limbs. I like dominant Liam. I like him a lot and I’m not sure what that says about me. “No,” I whisper. “I told you, I seem to be confused.”

He unsheathes the blade. “Now are you afraid?”

I study the sharp edges so able to cause pain, and then meet his eyes, feeling the jolt of awareness Liam so easily creates in me. Instantly, I am consumed by heat, desire...passion. I do not see malice. “No. I’m not afraid.”

He brings the blade to the top of my uniform and pops off a button. Then another, but I can tell how careful he is not to touch my skin. I can see how much he doesn’t want to hurt me. His gaze lifts to mine, a challenge in the depths. “Say the word and I’ll untie you.”

My voice is steady, sure. “I’d rather you undress me.”

His eyes narrow, then harden and before I know what is happening, he’s yanking the blade all the way down the front of my uniform, splitting it straight down the middle. My heart is thundering in my chest as he slices the center of my bra and exposes my breasts.

He stands there, staring down at me, tall, and dark. Right now, I think he’s lethally sexy. His gaze rakes hotly over my exposed breasts, a heavy caress I feel in every part of me, then lifts to mine. “This,” he says, sheathing the dagger, “was to make damn sure you never wear that piece of shit uniform ever again.” He tosses the dagger onto the bed and then reaches down and yanks my panties off.

I jerk at the unexpected action and already one of his hands curves around my backside, the other caressing up my bare back to mold me close, my naked breasts nestled against his chest. “You,” he says, his voice low, gravelly, “are the talented daughter of one of the most brilliant archeologists to ever live, not a waitress at a truck stop.”

My chest tightens and frustratingly, my eyes prickle. “Damn you. Damn you, Liam. She is not a part of this. She is dead. You told me so yourself.”

“You’re still his daughter. And they, whoever the hell they are, can’t take that from you any more than I’m letting them take you from me.”

His words both carve me open and fill some deep hole in my soul. An eruption is coming, a vicious, intense… “Liam--”

He leans in and finally his lips brush mine, a soft, teasing caress. “Say my name again.”

“Liam,” I whisper more urgently but not because he’s told me to. Because there is a storm  brewing inside me that he has set fire to, and I can’t live through it tied to this post. “Liam I--”

His hand slips to my face, his lips covering mine, his tongue licking into my mouth in a velvety hot caress, followed by another. Yes, I think. Make it all go away. This is what I need. The escape. The escape.

“I’ve missed how you taste,” he murmurs, letting his lips trail over my cheek, my jaw, to my neck. “All of you.”

Tension coils inside me, part arousal, part storm, and I moan, tugging on my wrists that are too snugly held in place. Panic rises inside me. I don’t like feeling trapped. Not now. Not tonight and in this moment. “Untie me,” I whisper.

He flicks me a look, stroking my nipple and sending a wave of sensation colliding with my erupting emotions. “Not yet.”

“Liam, untie me!”

Leaning back to inspect me, his expression is stunned, in obvious confusion, and I try to explain what I barely understand.  “I need...I just need to be untied. I need to be untied now.”

He reaches behind me and releases me. The minute I’m free, my reaction is instinctive. I wrap my arms around his neck and my fingers are in his hair. “And I need you to hold me. I need--”

“Me too, baby,” he replies, his voice low, raspy. “Me too.” His mouth comes down on mine and he is kissing me, sweet wonderful, passionate kisses, and somehow in this moment there is both wild heat and a peaceful sense of rightness all at once.

I press into Liam, molding my body to his, trying to get closer, to be lost in him and us. And I am lost.Touching him, tasting him, wrapped in the warm male scent of him to the point that I barely know how the rest of my uniform and bra get discarded, or how I end up on the bed, on my back.There is just him on top of me, the thick ridge of his erection pressing between my thighs and me aching for him to be inside me.

I lift my leg, pressing my foot into his lower back, arching into him. “Liam,” I whisper, desperate to have him inside me.

His hand slips under my backside, cradling my body. “I’m the one who’s scared,” he whispers, stroking my cheek, dragging his fingers down my neck again, caressing my shoulder, and then cradling my breast in his palm.“I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“I almost did.”

“But I’m here now.”

“And you have no idea how much I want to lock you away and throw away the key until I destroy every asshole who ever hurt you.” He presses inside me, and for a fleeting moment I think about the condom we don’t have, the pills I haven’t taken for fear I’m pregnant. But I don’t resist. I don’t fear. I’m pregnant. I know it. I feel it and I saw it in his eyes on the plane. He knows, too, or maybe he just thinks I’m still taking the pill. I lose the thought when Liam drives deep inside me, buries himself until he can go no further. We stay there as if we are savoring the moment, anticipating the next. The sound of our breathing fills the air, melding together. Seconds pass and I hear the clock ticking, building tension.

 Taking me with him, Liam rolls to his back, pulling me over his hips, his hand in my hair. “The many flavors of control,” he whispers. “Now you’re on top. You decide how fast or slow we go.” His voice roughens.“How deep I get.”

The words radiate through me, evocative, erotic, and so much more than sex. One of us shifts on the mattress. Him, I think. Maybe me. The dagger has somehow ended up pressed to the side of my hand, its very presence driving home his message. He’s telling me that no matter how dominant he might come off, he’s willing to share control.

Emotion wells in my chest and I shove it away, pressing my palm to his face. “I’m glad you found me.” I lean in and this time, I kiss him, silently telling him what I still don’t feel ready to say out loud. I am his. I have been from the moment I first met him. His hand goes to the back of my head, holding me to him, but he doesn’t move and I know he’s waiting on me. He’s giving me that control he’s promised. Part of me wants to roll back over and tell him to take it and me. That part of me that feels she’s been alone forever and just wants someone to take care of her. But the other part of me is ready to own my life in a way that makes that decision no longer an option. The fact that Liam understands that I have to embrace who I am and where I’m going matters to me more than I think he can imagine.

I lick into his mouth, a soft caress of my tongue against his and the moan that rumbles low in his chest is so sexy, so utterly arousing, that I squeeze my thighs together and begin to move. Our lips part and for a few moments I stay there, my breath lingering with his, the dark springy hair of his chest teasing my nipples, but it’s not enough. I lean back, my hands settling on his shoulders, holding me up, the angle shifting his cock deeper inside me.

His gaze lowers, strokes my breasts and his hands follow, thumbs teasing my nipples. I arch into the touch and he sits up, driving himself deeper inside me, one arm wrapping around my waist, one hand cupping my breast. Our foreheads come together, our breaths mingling again, and I like the way it makes me feel connected to him. This is a perfect moment, me on top, but sheltered in the cocoon of his strong arms. Safe to let go, to experience what it is I am with this man.

He kisses me, his mouth brushing over mine, a seductive featherlight touch with a tiny hint of tongue, before he drags his lips over my jaw, down my neck, to find my nipple, licking, then suckling deeply. My sex clenches around the thick pulse of his cock and I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him, tangling my fingers in his hair. The air around us shifts, and we are no longer soft and gentle. We are kissing feverishly, moving together, a wild, frenzied rush of rocking until he falls back onto the mattress, or maybe I push him. My hands are back on his shoulders and I am driving against him, unable to get enough, unable to ever get enough. He’s watching me, his blue eyes riveted on my every move, his scorching gaze burning me alive, devouring my breasts, watching every expression on my face.

Trying to take him deeper, I arch my back, move my hands from his shoulders to his waist, my long hair draping my face, and my gaze lands on the ‘pi’ tattoo with the inverted triangle. I swallow hard and go still, my fingers splaying over artwork so like the one on my handler’s wrist and yet so unlike it, and for a moment, I feel what I have yet to feel. Fear. I feel fear and I do not know why. Everything around me seems to go black and I can hear my own breathing. I can hear the clock.

“Amy?” Liam whispers, and my gaze jerks to his, and the concern, the deep affection in his stare, tears through me. “What--” he starts, but I don’t want him to speak.

I lean in and press my mouth to his, telling myself that two completely different triangles do not equal the same symbol. His strong arm wraps around my waist again, and I am where I belong. The tattoo means nothing. He means everything. Tangling my fingers into his hair, I slant my mouth over his and I kiss him like I have never kissed him before. I ride him like I have never ridden him. I take him. I make him mine like I have never dared with another man, like I could with no other man. And I drive us to the point that we are shaking, orgasming together, my sex clenching his shaft until we melt together in utter, complete satisfaction. Boneless, I come back to the world draped over the top of him. I don’t want to move. I don’t want this to end, and I think he doesn’t either.

It is Liam who finally shifts us, settling me on the mattress beside him, caressing my cheek. “I’ll be right back.” He moves away and I fight the ridiculous urge to reach for him and pull him back, like once he is gone, he’s gone forever.

Resting my weight on my elbows, I watch him walk in all his masculine glory toward a doorway to my left that I think is a bathroom, and as he disappears into the other room, my gaze shifts to the twinkling city lights of the night sky beyond the window. I have this odd sense of dreaming, and I don’t want to wake up. It hardly feels real that in only a few short hours I’ve gone from a roadside dump to this amazing place with Liam.

The stickiness between my legs invades my peaceful moment with worry. We didn’t use a condom and I inhale at the thought, flattening my hand on my belly, and admitting I haven’t repeated the test for a reason. I don’t need it. I know I’m pregnant and I simply wasn’t ready to deal with what that means. I’m having a baby. Liam’s baby. And now it’s not just vengeance and my life I’m fighting for anymore. I cannot fail at finding answers and solutions. That is no longer an option. I won’t lose someone else I love.

The mattress shifts and I am shocked to find Liam has crossed the room and I didn’t even know he’d returned. He gently nestles the towel between my legs, and heat floods my cheeks as he actually cleans me up before he tosses it at what looks like a hamper by a closet to my right.

Embarrassed, I let my head rest on the mattress, staring at the ceiling rather than Liam, and again I think I am naked beyond the absence of clothes with this man in so many ways. He lays down on his side, propped on one elbow, and now he flattens his hand on my belly. I turn instantly, and face him, holding his hand in mine, resting my head on my arm that I’ve curled under me.

 “You weren’t afraid,” he comments.

“No. I wasn’t afraid.”

“Because your instincts told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

I nod. “Because my instincts told me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

His hand goes to my hip and he pulls me closer. “And I won’t. Ever. You were right. Human nature is to survive, Amy, and that’s what our instincts are for. When our adrenaline is pumping and we have to make a choice, we know what is right. We act. We can’t look back. We can’t regret.” He pauses and my stomach knots in anticipation of what I think he might say. And he does. He says it. His next words are, “You had to jump.”

Emotions jackknife through me and I try to escape, jerking backwards. Liam’s leg wraps around mine, holding me to him. I shove on his chest.“Let go.”

“Never again and I’ll repeat that until you remember it. You couldn’t have saved them any more than I could save my mother or Alex.”

“You don’t know. You weren’t there.”

“No. I wasn’t. But I know there are things out of our control and if we let them eat us alive, they destroy us. I know, baby. I’ve lived it. In your case, you need answers, and you need to place blame, but not on yourself.” He lowers his forehead to mine. “Not on you. We will find out who did this to you and your family, and we’ll make them pay. You have my word. But it’s time for you to start healing.”

“I need answers.”

“We’ll get them.” He scoops me up and moves us higher on the bed, pulling down the blankets. I let him settle us beneath the silky sheet, the soft mattress sweet bliss to my exhausted body. “Let’s sleep. Tomorrow we’ll come up with a plan.” He caresses my cheek. “Together.” He reaches above us and hits a button on the headboard and the lights dim, then he turns me and curls me against him, wrapping his body around mine.

My lashes lower. Together. I could get used to that word, I think, and I relax into him, truly relax for the first time in months.

* * *

I wake to the ticking of a clock and blink into sunlight, my eyes fixing on the massive round clock with a heavy etched black wood frame and contrasting delicate silver arms occupying most of the wall in front of me. The same clock I assume that taunted me the night before and now tells me I’ve slept until nearly noon. I inhale the wonderful masculine scent of Liam that surrounds me everywhere, though I sense that he isn’t in the bed any longer. Trust my instincts had been Liam’s message to me last night. About him and everything. They seem to be all I have when I’d rather have facts and answers.

Rolling to my back, I sit up and marvel at the breathtaking view of the Hudson River. Liam was right. It’s as if we are on the water. My gaze shifts and I take in the spectacular room I couldn’t appreciate last night for the overwhelming presence that is Liam. It’s a simple but elegant space decorated with an expensive black wood bedroom set and several paintings of high-rise buildings that I date to the sixties. I wonder if Liam’s mentor, Alex, designed them.

A pajama top is laying on the bottom of the bed, and I smile and reach for it, hoping Liam is wearing the other half of this set. It’s an intimate, wonderful thought to share one set of pajamas that reaches beyond sexy. It’s about sharing and caring, two things I’ve had to eliminate from life in every form, even simple friendships.

Shoving aside the soft black comforter, I slip into the oversized shirt, disappointed that it smells fresh and clean, not spicy and male like Liam, but I can fix that, I decide. I make a quick dash to the room I think is the bathroom to find a sparkling black and white tiled spa-worthy room with a claw tub and separate shower. I dig for a brush and try to tame my mass of tangled blonde hair, scrub my face, and finger brush my teeth with toothpaste I find in a drawer.

When Liam has still not appeared, I’m not quite ready to give up my solitary thoughts, and I find myself walking toward the view and the two cozy looking overstuffed black leather chairs.

Shivering against a chill radiating from being this close to the glass, I grab the black throw on one of the chairs and wrap it around me. I’m about to settle into a chair when my gaze latches on to the dagger that sits on the small table between the chairs.

I stare down at it, struck first by the jewels and markings on the sheath and handle that I’d missed the night before, like I had overlooked the huge clock on the wall. The dagger is Egyptian, and I am certain this is from his time spent at the pyramids. This is a part of my past as well and finally I can talk to Liam about it.

Frowning, I stare down at the dagger, and the oddity of it being here on the table by the window, when I know it was in the bed with us, hits me. I turn and face the bed and it hits me that I’ve barely slept in months and yet Liam stood here, holding a dagger in his hand, and I snoozed right through it. I’m reminded of how I’d slept so well that first night he’d stayed with me in Denver and I can come to only one conclusion. My subconscious mind trusts him completely. When I’m asleep. In the heat of the moment, when he’s holding a dagger to my skin and I’m tied up. Why then do I still think about his money, his mentor’s money, and pyramids? And why, why, why, did I feel that instant of fear while staring at his tattoo?

Chapter Eight

I reach for the dagger, gauging the weight in my hand.

“Replica.”

My gaze lifts at the deep baritone of Liam’s voice speaking the very word I was thinking. I find him leaning on the doorjamb wearing nothing but the pajama bottoms to match my top and my reaction is pure instinct, that of a primal kind. He is beautiful, this man, power and sex radiating off of him.

“Yes,” I agree and my voice is hoarse. “I thought so.”

He pushes off the doorjamb, his dark hair a finger-rumpled mess that is sexier because it was my fingers that made it that way, and he starts walking toward me. Try as I might to keep my eyes level, they seek out and find his “pi” tattoo, tracing the inverted triangle beneath the 3.14 that is filled with numbers and still, there is not even a sliver of fear. All I feel is my desire to shove him down on the bed, crawl on top of him and lick the darn thing again.

“How old?” he asks, stopping in front of me, his hand closing over the dagger in my hand.

I blink up at him and he is just so damn masculine and beautiful that my mouth has gone dry and my brain seems to have stopped functioning. “How old?”

His lips quirk and I am certain he knows how easily he affects me and I can’t seem to care. “How old is the dagger, Amy?”

“Oh. The dagger. About a century.”

Those sensual, punishing, pleasing lips of his, curve. “Right on the mark, but then, you are your father’s daughter.”

My father’s daughter. It is painful to hear those words but also liberating, powerful. I no longer have to pretend to be what I am not with Liam. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

He pulls me closer, our hands and the dagger between us, our knees touching.“Why were you standing here holding the dagger?”

“Why’d you bring the dagger over here while I was sleeping?”

His mood shifts subtly, the lines of his face hardening, his lashes lowering before they lift. “A walk down memory lane,” he confesses. “Alex collected daggers from all over the world. I bought it for him while I was in Egypt and never got a chance to give it to him. I keep it close, like I do his memory.”

My heart squeezes for him, my hand flattening on his bare chest, the warmth of his body seeping into my palm the way he has seeped into my soul, my heart. “You were living that regret this morning.”

“I was reminding myself that regret is a disservice to those we loved and who loved us. It leaves no room for celebrating their lives and the memories we have with them.” He leans in, pressing his cheek to mine, his hand tightening over mine and the dagger. “And last night is quite the memory.”

I lean into him, and now I let my lashes lower, seduced by this growing bond between us that defies the time and space we’ve had between us, and even the reason it had existed. Deep down, I’ve never questioned us. This is real. We are real.

The doorbell rings and Liam groans, pressing his forehead to mine. “That will be the breakfast I ordered that is very poorly timed.” He brushes hair over my shoulder. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. We’ll eat and then I’ll give you a tour of your new home.”

He turns and walks away, leaving me staring after him. For several seconds I stand there, processing what he’s said and what it means to me and us. He wants me here. I want to be here but it isn’t that simple for me, no matter how much I wish it was.

I launch myself into action, rushing down the steps to the foyer and then crossing through the living room with barely a glance at the gorgeous view out of the window. Rushing into the kitchen, past the island, I find Liam setting plates on the table. “This isn’t my home,” I blurt.

He stills for a moment, a fork in his hand, before setting it down very precisely on the table and leaning his palms on the wooden surface. “I want it to be. I hope you want it to be.”

“My family’s dead. Someone killed the PI. Me being with you or anyone else is like painting a bull's-eye on their forehead. I won’t do that to you.”

He studies me, that penetrating blue gaze of his unnerving me and telling me nothing of his reaction. Finally, he moves, pulling out the chair at the end of the table. “Come sit and let’s eat.”

“You can’t dismiss my concern. It’s real.”

“And we’ll deal with it. After you eat.” His tone is that familiar absoluteness I’ve come to know from overbearing, dominant, sexy Liam Stone that tells me I won’t win this battle. I, in fact, probably need my strength to fight it.

Sighing in resignation, my shoulders slump and I walk to the chair and sit down, finding my plate piled with a stack of pancakes that smell sweet and almost spicy. My stomach rumbles in a strange mix of hunger and queasiness I didn’t know was possible. How can anyone be famished and sick at the same time?

“I hope you like gingerbread,” Liam comments, all of that intensity of moments before sliding away. “Evans’ Cafe next door does breakfast all day and since they only do these in November and December, I admit to overindulging.”

“They smell wonderful but I find it hard to believe you overindulge in anything.”

That sensual mouth of his curves ever so slightly. “I have a few weaknesses. Gingerbread Pancakes. Architecture.” His voice deepens. “And you, Amy.”

Me. I am his weakness. I don’t let myself think of how true that might be, how dangerous I could be to him, and quickly indulge in a real treat for me. The truth. “Mine would be macaroni and cheese, ancient history, and you, Liam.”

His eyes blaze blue-green with a hint of amber lifted from the sunlight and water behind him. He is magnificently male in that moment, absolutely, devastatingly, a work of art. He motions to the pancakes. “Try the gingerbread. I want to see what you think.”

Remarkably relaxed considering I charged in here for a confrontation, I dig in. “Hmm. Yes. Wonderful. I see why you like them.”

Obviously pleased, he takes a bite. “Evans is one of two restaurants next door. There are also several high-end clothing stores, and a hair salon, as well as several medical offices, most of which have been there since I first met Alex.”

“How old where you when you moved in with him?”

“My mother died when I was fifteen.”

“And your father--”

“Long gone.” His tone is short in a way that says he’s done with the topic and he reaches for a glass of orange juice I think must be as bitter as the topic clearly is, from the sugary pancakes, but he gulps it down just fine. The same way he has every sour note life has thrown him and not for the first time I envy him that control.

An odd sensation churns in my belly, and I’m not sure if it’s about food, or how poorly I’ve handled my life. “Any chance you have something carbonated?”

He stands up and walks to the fridge and returns with Ginger Ale and a glass of ice. “My mother’s cure for all stomachaches. I had Evans bring you a bottle.”

I tilt the can to fill my glass. “They had Ginger Ale in stock?”

“They do now.”

He had them stock it for me and I soften inside with this knowledge. For all the hardness on Liam’s outside, he is capable of such tenderness. I take a sip of the soda and it is soothing to my stomach.

He claims his seat again, watching me. “Good?”

I nod. “It’s perfect. I thought rest would make me a hundred percent but I’m still not quite right.”

“You’ve been through hell. Give yourself time. When we get done eating, I thought I’d show you the rest of Alex’s dagger collection. There are some unique pieces that might interest the history lover in you.”

The idea intrigues me. “I’d like that very much. Do you collect as well?”

He leans back in his chair. “Not my thing, but Alex spent a lot of time in Asia and developed the interest, and about seventy-five percent of his collection, while living there.”

“What drew him to Asia?”

“Architecture. They like tall buildings. He wanted to be able to master that craft.”

“Like you have. Did you study in Asia as well?”

He nods and I feel relief at the confirmation it gives me. “Alex insisted I spend time there. He wanted me to learn from the best and he never considered himself that, even when everyone else did.” He leans forward. “I spent a lot of time in Asia, Amy. I never went to Egypt until a few years ago and I can prove it through my passport records.”

I reach for his hand and cover it. “I didn’t ask.”

“But you should. Knowing what you’ve been through, you have to suspect everyone. Just like you had to run when you heard that conversation between me and Derek. I don’t want you to ever doubt me like that again.”

I inhale and decide to embrace more of that honesty I’ve so rarely been allowed. “You have no idea how much the idea of you being the enemy crushed me.”

“I’m not the enemy and I want to be able to talk to you about Egypt and the pyramids and anything you want or need to talk about without creating fear and doubt in you.”

“It won’t. And I’d like that. I tried to block them out. I tried to block all of it out and I think that’s what led to my blackouts. I need to reconnect with my past.” And so I do. “They were my everything. We all traveled together until I was in high school, mostly through Egypt and Africa. I did my school work from dig sites. Working with my father, who was passionate and absolutely brilliant, represents the most amazing experiences of my life.”

His expression softens. “I felt the same way with Alex and with the many talented people he connected me with.”

“Did you travel while you were in school like I did?”

“Some, but I spent the bulk of my time in Asia right after I graduated from college.”

 A sad smile touches my lips. “My mom said I was a great student. I got my work done fast and right so we could both get back in the dirt.”

“If it worked so well, what happened to change it all?”

“My father said he wanted me to have some kind of normal childhood, with a prom and all that fluffy stuff I was supposed to want. So my mother and I stayed behind and he and my brother conquered the world beyond.”

“Did you at least enjoy a period of being a normal teenager?”

“I tried, but I always felt like a castaway. There wasn’t even a museum in Jasmine Heights that my mother and I could volunteer at to stay somewhat involved in that life.” Unbidden, a memory of overhearing my father talking to my mother comes to me. You and Lara staying here is what is best, and with it the tingling in my scalp begins.

Liam's hand goes to my bare leg under the table. “What is it?”

I look at him, unaware until this moment that my elbows are on the table and I’ve pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Nothing, I just...” The memory stirs again, my parents’ voices in my head, surprisingly clear. “Remembering something.”

“Something important?”

“My parents arguing over us staying behind.”

“Your mother wasn’t happy about it either?”

“It was hard having the family separated.” I shove my plate aside.

Liam inspects my half-eaten pancakes. “You should try and eat more.”

“I’m not a six-foot-two man,” I remind him. “I ate plenty.”

He doesn’t look convinced but I’m saved when the doorbell goes off and Liam’s hand slides away from my leg. “That will be Derek coming in the security exit. He’s going to have his sister go shop and buy you whatever you need. You want to make a list?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been living in rat trap motels and hitchhiking. I’m good with whatever.”

“You’re not there anymore, baby, and you never will be again. But you’re right. Don’t make a list. I’ll tell her to spend freely and frivolously.”

“Oh, good grief, Liam. I’ll make a list.”

He stands up. “No list. I’ll handle it.” He heads through the kitchen and I stand up to follow him when spots dot my vision. I’m going down, and I’m going down soon, and I don’t want to do it with Liam and Derek standing over the top of me.

All too aware that speed is of importance, I stumble my way back into the bedroom and head to the bathroom. I tug at the door and pull it shut, and practiced at this as I am, I slide to the sitting position by the wall to ensure I don’t fall. Memories surface. I shove my fingers in my hair, rubbing my tingling scalp but I don’t will away the memory. I want to remember. It’s time. It’s time and to my surprise instead of blacking out, my mind travels back to the fight I’d overheard with my parents. It had been my junior year of high school. I know because my father had spoken at my school when he was home. I’d been supposed to stay late at school but didn’t. I’d headed to the kitchen for a snack when I’d stopped dead in my tracks.

You can’t leave again this soon, my mother had said and I don’t remember what my father said. I’m not sure I heard. My mother sobbed. I remember that, oh so well. Is it another woman? she’d demanded. Is that it? You have another woman. Is that why you won’t take us with you now?

There was movement and I couldn’t tell what happened and then I heard my father’s harsh whisper, No. My God, woman. How can you think that? There is no other woman. It’s not safe for you and Lara. I’m just protecting you. Just know I’m protecting you.

What does that even mean? my mother had screamed. What does that mean?

The less you know the better.

A wave of sickness overcomes me and I crawl to the toilet, certain I’m going to be ill. A knock on the door sounds. “Amy? Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, I am. Okay, I’m not. I get sick. The door jerks open. “Holy hell,” Liam murmurs, squatting beside me.

“Go away. Go away, Liam.”

“You keep saying that and I keep giving you the same answer. Not a chance.” He strokes my hair from my face and hands me a towel. “Do you want some more Ginger Ale?”

My parched throat screams in reply. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“I’ll be right back.” He disappears and I sink to the floor and lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t black out. My lips curve through the nausea. I didn’t black out.

Liam curses and sets the drink on the counter, squatting down to pick me up. “No,” I object. “I need to stay here until the sickness passes.”

He looks absolutely appalled and I touch his cheek. “I’m okay.” I look at the glass on the counter. “Ginger ale?”

“Right. Yes.” He hands it to me and I sip and then gulp.

He grabs the glass. “Easy. You’re going to make yourself sick again.”

I start to lay back again and Liam grabs a huge, fluffy towel and shoves it under me just in time for it to absorb my body. Then to my shock, he lays another towel down beside me and flattens on his back as well. “What are we looking at?” he asks, staring at the ceiling.

I surprise myself by managing a laugh. “You do have a very nice ceiling.”

He takes my hand and turns his head to look at me. “Any better?”

I nod. “Yes. I’m improving.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“It’s just stress.”

“We didn’t use a condom.”

“I took a test and it was negative.”

“When?”

I sit up. “A few weeks ago.”

He moves to squat in front of me, his hands on my knees. “I’m going to have a doctor come over and see you.”

“No. No more people involved with me or us, Liam. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

“I’ll take precautions.”

“We’re gambling with someone’s life by involving them in mine.”

“We’re not gambling with your life and potentially our unborn child’s.”

Our unborn child’s. Unbidden, tears well in my eyes and I look away, struggling with the idea that I am about to bring a baby into this hell. His finger slides under my chin and he forces my gaze to his, using his thumb to stroke away a tear. “Is the idea of having my child that horrific?”

I grab his hand. “No. That’s not it. You...we...I...” I squeeze my eyes shut. “We...”

“Have a lot to figure out,” he supplies. “I know. And we will, but let’s start with making sure you’re healthy. Can you make it to the bed?”

“I’m fine now. Whatever it was, it’s over.”  He helps me to my feet and then picks me up.

“I can walk.”

“So can I.” I grimace at the remark as he sets me on the bed and says, “You need to rest.”

“I don’t want to rest. I want my computer back from the hotel room with all of my research on it.”

 “Tellar’s man got your things from the room. They should be here this afternoon.”

Relief washes over me. “Oh thank goodness. I put weeks into that work.”

“I have stacks of research we did as well. It’s all yours to look at. I’ll show it all to you and we’ll talk all of this out. We’ll get a plan together. After,” he adds, stroking hair from my brow and flattens his hand on my cheek, “the doctor comes and checks you out.”

I grab his hand, and I can’t keep the quaver from my voice. “Everyone close to me dies, Liam. I can’t have a child and lose it.”

“Don’t do this to yourself. We’re going to get through this. Nothing is going to happen to you or the baby. You have my word.”

There is a fierceness to the way he delivers his promise, an absoluteness, and I wonder if he’s trying to convince me or himself, or maybe both of us. He leans in and kisses my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin. My fingers wrap around his wrist a little too tightly I suspect, but I can’t seem to help it. I have this sense he might be gone at any moment.

He molds me close, flattening his hand in the center of my back, burying his face in my neck and I know he feels what I do. He is afraid I will soon be gone. He draws in a breath, inhaling my scent I think, and I do the same to him. I drink in that earthly, raw male scent of him, feeding off of it like it, he, is my lifeline, and in that moment, we are those two lost souls I’ve thought us to be on many occasions, someone so right for each other and so devastatingly bad at the same time.

 Reluctantly, it seems, he leans back and says, “I’m calling for the doctor.”

I nod. “Yes. Okay.”

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand and walks to the window. My attention is riveted on him, this man who could very well be the father of my child. I study him, his strong profile, the way he moves with grace and confidence, the way he makes everything seem easy. Except us. We are not easy any more than we are the calm water of the Hudson River just beyond the windows. We are caught in the hurricane of turbulence, passion, and a past I can’t even remember.

Chapter Nine

In less than an hour from the time Liam places the call, Dr. Murphy, an attractive forty-something woman, has arrived, and according to Liam, she makes a living catering to the rich and famous. Translation, she gets paid the big bucks for keeping her mouth shut. I pray the opposite doesn’t apply as well.

She and I take a seat at the window in Liam’s bedroom and I am acutely aware of Liam hovering nearby. I’m also aware of Dr. Murphy’s perfectly fitted navy blue suit, and her red hair braided at her nape, while I am a blonde, frizzy, just showered mess, who managed a few dabs of makeup from the stash I had in my backpack that made it to New York with me. I am also braless, thanks to Liam’s overzealous dagger action, and dressed in an oversized T-shirt, tennis shoes, and Liam’s sweats that I’ve had to pin up.

Dr. Murphy admires the water for a moment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this view.” Her lips curve. “Alex and I went way back. I actually live next door but there is something about the view from his room.”

“Oh,” I say, and my mind can go all kinds of places with that one.

“Oh,” she repeats, looking amused. “And yes to whatever you are thinking. I knew Alex quite well.” She pulls a blood pressure machine from her bag. “Let’s start with some basic vitals, shall we?”

She pumps the cuff up. Liam paces behind us. Back and forth. Back and forth. Dr. Murphy unclamps my arm. “Blood pressure is good.” She stands to eye Liam. “But mine won’t be if you keep pacing behind me.” She points to the door. “Out.”

“I’m staying,” he insists.

She crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a steely stare that impressively rivals the one he returns. “You leave,” she warns, “or I leave.”

Liam, who has changed into jeans and a teal blue pullover that matches his now stormy eyes, gives her a fierce look. “I don’t like being strong-armed, Dr. Murphy.”

She doesn’t even try to deny that’s exactly what she’s doing. “You don’t have to like it. I’m the doctor and I insist all of my patients have privacy.”

Liam eyes me and I quickly tell him, “I’m perfectly fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but says, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Once we’re alone, the doctor pulls out her stethoscope and checks my heart, then listens to my lungs and takes my temperature. “Liam tells me you’re having blackouts.”

“For six years off and on. There are triggers I’m aware of and acupuncture helps.”

“Describe the blackouts.”

“It’s more flashbacks to a terrible time in my life. I see spots and get pressure in my head and then everything just goes black.”

“How often?”

“I went years without any at all, but now...a couple a day.”

She whistles. “That’s not good, especially if you think you’re pregnant. It limits our testing abilities and medications.”

“I’ve had MRIs and CAT scans. They showed nothing.”

“How long ago?”

“Years.”

“That’s too long ago.” She purses her lips. “You said they went away and came back?”

“Yes. A stress trigger set me off again. Really. I know what is wrong. I just...I need to know if I’m pregnant and if the blackouts can hurt the baby.”

“What was the diagnosis?”

“I don’t know. The doctors just tried to shove drugs down my throat.”

“Did you try medications?”

“No, and I won’t.”

“Why?”

Because I can’t risk my thinking process being impaired, but instead I say, “I just won’t.”

She reaches in her bag and pulls out a blood drawing kit. “Let’s take blood and run a full panel, as well as a pregnancy test.”

“I need to know about the baby now.”

Digging in her bag, she produces a little plastic cup and hands it to me. “Fill it and I have a strip test for immediate results. Let me do the blood draw first. It’s Friday and I want to get them to the lab so we have them back on Monday.”

Lab. My name. “No. No test results. No lab.”

“Nothing is done in your name,” she says, reading my worries. “Discretion all the way.”

Reluctantly, I stretch my arm out and she wraps a rubber tube around it. “Have you seen a counselor?” she asks, readying the syringe. “In cases of post traumatic syndrome, which I suspect is what you’re dealing with, talking to someone and dealing with whatever happened to you can be helpful.” She glances at my arm. “Ready?”

I nod and she pokes my vein. “I’ll think about it,” I promise, and it’s not a lie. I plan to talk to whoever I have to, to get at the truth, just not a counselor who could be put in danger with me.

A few minutes later, Dr. Murphy does her strip test.

“Well?” I prod, and I’m actually wringing my hands together, I’m so on edge.

Dr. Murphy doesn’t make me wait. “It’s positive.”

My hands go to the arms of the chair and I clutch the leather in a death grip. I pretty much half-hear everything else she says. Something about the nausea passing in another couple of weeks. She’s going to get me vitamins and she is all for acupuncture and more of that counseling she’d suggested. She’ll call with the blood work. She squeezes my leg. “I live next door. If you need an ear or a friend--”

“Thank you. I...thank you.”

She gives me a worried look and seems to want to say more but thinks better of it, gathering her things and leaving. I stare out at the water without really seeing it. Instead I am back on the porch with my brother as he says, You can’t handle the truth. If tonight told me anything, it’s that. I think of the fight between my parents I’d overheard. Then the fight between my mother and a stranger I’d overhead. And then, the man in the sedan. There were things happening right before my eyes and I hadn’t seen them. Or I’d ignored them. And now they are dead and I can’t bring them back. This baby will be here before I blink and this danger can’t still exist when it does. Doing nothing is what I’ve done for six years. I can’t do nothing now. And I can’t stay in the very place where my handler might have died warning me to leave.

I dart to my feet and sprint across the room toward the door, rushing down the stairs and pausing in the foyer at the sound of Liam and Dr. Murphy murmuring words I cannot hear at the bottom level. Emotions are racing through me like an electric charge and I can’t stand still. I pass through the archway and enter the living area and sit down on the arm of a chair, the water to my back. I stand back up. I sit down.

Liam appears under the arches and all that emotion in me balls in my chest at the sight he makes, tall and commanding, with an easy grace and power that he wears like a second skin. This is the father of my child.

I rush toward him and grab his arms, his hard muscles flexing beneath my palm. “I was told to leave New York. We have to leave New York. We have to go anywhere but here. And then I need answers. I have to make this end. I have to.”

“We, Amy. You aren’t alone anymore, and who told you to leave, Amy?”

“The same person who saved my life six years ago.”

“Which is who?”

“I don’t know.”

His lips tighten. “Come sit down and talk to me.” He hauls me with him to the front of the chair and sits me down, squatting down in front of me. “Tell me about this stranger and why you trust this person.”

I don’t hesitate. We both have something to lose now and I’m done holding back. “I was in the hospital when I got a call. He, whoever he was, told me that I would die too if I didn’t leave right then and meet him in the back of the hospital.”

“So you did?”

“I was eighteen and in shock.”

“I know, baby. This isn’t me judging you. Quite the opposite. And Tellar didn’t know you were in the house when your family died when he said what he did.”

“I knew they’d been murdered.” My voice trembles. I think it’s more than my voice. I think I’m trembling all over.

“How? How did you know?”

“There were weird things going on.”

“What weird things?”

“I thought one or both of my parents were having affairs. And then my brother had hinted at some kind of trouble but he told me I couldn’t handle knowing the details.”

“When was that?”

“The week of the fire.”

He leans back on his heels. “So you met this stranger in the parking lot and then what?”

“He gave me money, passports, and written instructions. He was with me all of five minutes and then he put me in a cab by myself and I never saw him again.”

“Can you identify him?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. He wore a hoodie and it was dark in the cab.”

“What kind of instructions did he give you?”

“I stayed at a hotel in Austin for a few days, until I received a delivery with an airline ticket and my new identity.”

“And that identity was Amy Bensen?”

“No. Right before I met you, I’d foolishly decided I was off everyone’s radar and I could try to rebuild a happy life. I’d taken a job at a museum because...well...”

“I know why. Go on.”

I inhale and let it out. “The night I met you, I received a note that said I’d gotten myself noticed and that I had to run again.”

“How do you know it’s him who contacted you again?”

 “Everything was handled exactly like the first time. And...”

“And what?”

I hesitate a moment, but I’m carrying his child. I’m trusting my instincts. “The man showed me a tattoo and told me any communication would also have the exact same image.”

“And the note did?”

“The one in New York that told me to go to Denver did, yes, but I had communication after that and it was missing. I was also promised money for support that never came. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I think he’s dead, Liam. He has to be dead.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “I need to see all of the notes.”

“They’re in my things in the motel. I normally keep them with me, but at the diner I had no place to lock things up and it made me nervous.”

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Yeah, Tellar? What’s the ETA on Amy’s things picked up from the motel?” He listens a moment. “I need them now. There’s some stuff inside that might hold answers.” He ends the call. “He’s on his way ”

I nod and take his hand.  “There are memories coming back to me. If I go back to Texas, I’ll remember.”

“No. Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”

“I am tired of being the hunted, Liam. I want to be the hunter. And damn it, I want to say goodbye to my family.” I choke up. “I didn’t even get to go to the funerals.”

He cups my head. “Not now, baby. Not until it’s safe.”

“I can’t wait any longer to make this end. I can’t have a baby like this. I can’t.”

He blanches. “It’s true then? You’re pregnant?” His voice comes out all smoky and hoarse.

“I thought Dr. Murphy told you.”

“No. Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”

“Yes. I’m pregnant. We’re pregnant and that’s why I--”

He kisses me, a touch of lips to lips, his mouth lingering on mine, emotions rolling off of him, crashing into me and my fingers curl in his shirt, before, reluctantly it seems, he presses his forehead to mine. “You’re having my baby.”

My fingers curl on his cheek. “Yes. Yes. I’m having your baby.”

His hand goes to mine and he holds it a moment, and I can almost feel a shift in him, a subtle tension that crawls between us, building and building. “Liam?” I question, pushing away from him to search his face, catching the storm clouds an instant before he releases my hand and stands up.

For a moment, he towers over me, devastatingly male, even more devastatingly tormented, and I have to assume the torment is over my being pregnant.

He rubs the back of his neck and then turns away, stalking to the window, and when he gives me his back, it’s like he slams a door, shutting me out. Shell-shocked, I stand up, and I feel like the deer in headlights he once accused me of being, uncertain where to go or what to do. What to say. “You’re right,” he says, facing me.

“Right?” My question comes out cracked, as broken as I will be if he rejects the child I’d thought he’d embrace.

“You want out of New York. You got it. We’re leaving. We’re going someplace far away from here and disappearing.”

“What?” I gape. “No. Being invisible while we hunt for my hunter, that works. Disappearing isn’t a solution.”

“You’re going as far underground as I can get you.”

“Liam,” I plead, and I’m in front of him by the time his name leaves my lips, my hand flattening on his chest. “Let’s talk about this.”

“We’ll talk when you’re underground.”

“I get why that’s your first reaction to me being pregnant but it’s not the answer. We can’t have a child that we hide away like some sort of animal.” And that’s what he wants. I see it in his eyes. “I won’t let that happen.”

“You having the baby and being safe doing it is what’s most important right now.”

“Ending this before our child becomes a target is what’s most important. I want this to end.”

“I’ll end this, Amy. You and our child will be off someplace safe when I do.”

“You mean you’ll take over my life rather than helping me get control of it again myself.”

The doorbell rings. He growls low in his throat, his hands coming down on my shoulders as he turns me and presses my back to the pillar. “You are my woman, carrying my child. This isn’t up for negotiations. We’re doing it my way.” He turns and stalks across the room.

Chapter Ten

Momentarily stunned, I stare after him. His way? Is he serious? He claims that we are in this thing together and then issues a command like that one? This isn’t even about what the right decision is. I really don’t know right or wrong at this point, except in this case. Liam dictating instead of talking is absolutely wrong and the kiss of death for our relationship if we don’t deal with it, and now.

I storm through the living room, determined to stop him from answering the door, but I’m too late. By the time I make it to the foyer, I can hear both Tellar and Derek talking to him. Balling my fists by my sides, I remind myself that I both want and need my suitcase that Tellar is delivering, but I do not know why Derek is required to deliver it.

Knowing I will spout out the many things blistering on my tongue and meant for Liam alone in front of company if I keep standing here, I turn on my heel and head back to the living area. The rumble of Liam’s deep, authoritative voice behind me vibrates in my body and for once it’s not soothing. I am far too tempted to say my piece regardless of who hears.

Saving everyone from a scene, at least for the moment, I detour to the kitchen. Somehow, that leads me to stare into Liam’s pathetically empty fridge. He was right. The kitchen isn’t well stocked and my emotional upheaval seems to be translating to hunger.

I wait a few expectant moments and when the three men don’t appear, my hunt for food has me opening what turns out to be the pantry. I find a bag of Oreo cookies that support Liam’s earlier confessed love of sugar-laden treats. I grab them, fill a glass with milk, which is surprisingly within the proper date considering the state of Liam’s fridge, and head to the table. Claiming the spot that puts me facing the island and anyone who enters the kitchen, I proceed to down six cookies and all the milk without so much as a tiny churn of my stomach. Apparently, the baby has a sweet tooth that won’t be good for my health or waistline but I’m happy to get anything in my stomach that stays down.

I’m about to go for another cookie when my hope that Derek and Tellar would leave proves futile. The three men pile into the room and it takes mere seconds for me to have enough testosterone standing in a row in front of the table, staring at me and my cookies, to make my head ready to explode. Most women would welcome these three men for many reasons, however I doubt it would be when they were stuffing their faces with food like I am now.

Avoiding eye contact with Liam, with his best interest in mind, I set my uneaten cookie back in the container. If I see that arrogant “my way is King” attitude in his eyes, my tongue will be whiplash ready. My distraction gets me nowhere fast. I’m back to staring at the three men’s stony faces, or rather two of them, and they at me. Seconds of silence tick by and it’s like no one breathes, and I get the distinct impression they are all waiting on me. Maybe Liam warned them I was a torpedo ready to blow. He was right, but I’ve practiced way too much restraint these past years to have none now.

I wave at the group. “Hi.”

The instant easing of tension of the room is like a rubber band popping. All three men seem to relax, muscles stretching and shifting. Okay, correction again. Two men relax. Liam is unmoving, his stare willing mine to find his, and I refuse.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Derek says, setting down a folder on the table, then claiming the seat at the end of the table, followed by the package of cookies. He lifts my empty glass. “But you didn’t leave me much to wash it down with.”

I study him a moment, his blond hair neatly styled, his customary suit replaced with neatly pressed dark blue jeans and a white polo, and although I get why Liam is invested in me, I’m not certain I’m buying Derek’s reasons for being here.

Liam walks to the fridge, retrieves the milk, moves the glass in front of me and fills it, the sweetness of the act belying his ability to excel as a complete asshole. His eyes meet mine, and the connection, that damn connection, I feel with him, punches me hard in the chest. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“I need more than cookies,” Tellar complains, sitting next to Derek, and cater-cornered to the right of me. “I worked up an appetite hauling all the shopping bags Derek’s sister gave me to supply your closet.” He snatches up a cookie.

“Liam told my sister to shop for you,” Derek explains before I can ask. “She’s an overachiever when it comes to spending money.”

When normally Liam spending money on me would be a concern, it’s the last thing on my mind at the moment. “You shouldn’t involve her. I don’t want her put in danger.”

Derek snorts. “My sister going on a wild shopping spree is just another day of the week. She was the perfect tool to get you what you needed. Believe me, nothing is suspicious and she’s not in danger.”

Liam plops a duffel-style bag on the table in front of me, and I'm surprised by the unfamiliar item I hadn’t noticed until now, my gaze lifts and connects with his. “What is this?” I ask and the pull between us is magnetic, or rather, more of a current dragging me under.

“Your things from your motel room.”

My brows furrow and I glance at Tellar. “Why didn’t you just use my suitcase?”

He makes a face. “Suitcase? There was no suitcase. There was no bag at all.”

“There was a suitcase,” I assure him and concerned about what its absence means, I am on my feet in an instant, digging through the bag to find nothing but a few clothes, toiletries, and that’s it.

“Not what you expected?” Liam asks.

I shake my head and sink back into my chair. “Everything I told you about was in the room. The notes. Weeks and weeks of research into my past. It’s all gone.”

Liam moves the duffel off the table and settles into the chair directly across from me. “We have months of research we’ve done too. We can recreate yours. Maybe we already have.”

“We can’t recreate the messages I told you about.”

Tellar grumbles a curse, scrubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Amy. My man said nothing looked disturbed so he assumed he was the first to get there. We’re tracking the PI’s activity before we came in contact with him. We’re hoping that leads us to answers.”

“I’ll take any answers I can get. And it’s not your fault. I was afraid to carry the documents with me and have them stolen from my backpack that wasn’t locked up. Obviously, that was a bad call.”

“It’s okay--” Liam begins.

“No,” I correct him, my voice lifting as I continue. “No, it is not okay. Stop saying everything is okay. It is what it is and what it is is not okay. The notes could have helped us track down my handler.”

“Handler?” Liam and Tellar both ask at once.

I sigh, and clearly, I’m not even used to communicating with other human beings. “It’s what I call the stranger who helped me hide.”

“The one with the tattoo?” Derek asks.

I gape at Liam. “I trusted you with that information. Just you.”

As unapologetic as ever, he doesn’t so much as blink at my irritation. “His cousin works for the Feds. He can run it through the federal data base and see if it gets any hits.”

“If I had the letters,” I conclude, “and now I don’t.”

“Can you draw it?” Derek asks, obviously unaffected by my inference of distrust. And honestly, if I trust Liam, and he trusts them...

“I can,” I confirm, “but I’ve researched it in libraries and the internet and I can’t find anything like it.”

Derek pulls a paper and pen from the folder and slides them in my direction. “The Feds operate in a whole different world of possibilities.”

A glimmer of hope forms inside me and I scribble down a drawing of the tattoo as best I can, drawing the triangle and the odd design in the center. Inspecting my work, I flip the paper around for Derek to view and announce, “That’s pretty close.”

Liam reaches across the table and drags the drawing to him, giving it a close review, and I don’t miss the muscle in his jaw that jumps. His steely eyes find mine. “The only thing similar about this tattoo and mine is the triangle. There is no connection and this means nothing to me. You know that, right?”

Shocked by his directness though I really don’t know why. This is Liam I’m dealing with, I nod. “I know.”

His jaw tenses, flexes. “Do you? Because I’m not sure I’m convinced.”

“I am. I know.”

His attention stays fixed on me, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Okay then,” Tellar mumbles, sliding the paper to look at it. “Means nothing to me either.”

“Ditto,” Derek agrees, “but we’ll see what my cuz has to say.”

 Liam's gaze snaps to Derek and he taps the table. “Did you bring the papers I asked you to bring.” Derek pulls a bundle of stapled documents from the folder and holds them up. Liam motions to me. “Give them to Amy.”

Frowning, I accept the documents, not sure what to expect. “Travel records for me and Alex,” Liam explains. “I want you to see there isn’t a connection there between us and your family.”

“I...Liam I didn’t ask for this.”

“You didn’t have to, and you don’t have to ask to look at the research we did on your life. It’s your life.” And his expression tells me his choice of words is not by accident before he goes on to explain, “We put together a list of everyone who could be connected to you and your family and looked for anything suspicious. There’s nothing that connects the dots for us, but there might be for you.”

“I hope so, I...” The memory of me and Luke kneeling near the bushes, while I watched my mother argue with the man by the black sedan, comes to me. I straighten with the impact of what I’ve seen. Luke. I need to talk to Luke.

“Amy?” Liam asks, sounding concerned.

I blink him into view, eager to share what I’ve remembered. “There was a boy who lived next door to me in Texas, named Luke Miller. He was with me one night when my brother and father were out of town. It was midnight and we were standing on the porch when this black sedan pulled into the driveway and then to the side of the house. My mother raced out the door and down the steps. She never saw us. We hid at the side of the house and listened as she argued with the driver.”

“What were they arguing about?” Derek asks.

“I’m going to give my standard answer. I don’t know. Their voices were too muffled.” I inhale and force myself to admit what I don’t want to be real. “But based on their body language and the emotional context of the exchange, I’m pretty sure there was something personal between them.”

Liam arches a brow. “An affair?”

I nod. I can’t manage anything else.

Derek clears his throat. “At the risk of sounding insensitive, Amy, I feel like I need to say this. Statistically my cousin would tell you to look close to home and in the bedroom when a murder takes place. I think this man is a good lead.”

“I’m not in denial that you could be right,” I assure him, “But I’m also convinced there was something going on with my father and brother. And before you ask me how I know, I have nothing to go on but a vague warning from my brother to me and a warning I overhead from my father to my mother about protecting us.”

“Listen to your instincts, baby,” Liam reminds me softly. “They haven’t failed you.”

“My instincts say I need to talk to Luke and find out what he saw that night, but I’m not sure how I do that when I’m supposed to be dead.”

“I can do it,” Tellar offers. “I’ll come up with some masterful story like being a reporter writing a story on your famous father. But what is it that you think he might know that you don’t know?”

“I didn’t see the man’s face. Luke snuck around the drive to leave and it’s possible he did.”

“You never talked about it later?” Liam asks.

“He was home on a college break and we pretty much parted ways that night.”

“Miller,” Derek repeats absently. “Miller. I remember that name.” He opens a folder, scans down what appears to be a list and I watch his expression tighten, his discomfort palpable. “I have his information.”

Dread washes over me in an instant and Liam’s tone is cautious as he asks, “What does that mean? You have the information? What information?”

Derek shows Liam a piece of paper. Liam gives the document a slow inspection, his expression unreadable. Abruptly, he stands up. “Let’s go upstairs and talk, Amy.”

My world spins and I’m on my feet in an instant, holding onto the table for stability. “He’s dead, isn’t he? He’s dead because of me in some way.”

 Liam's expression is still as unreadable as a blank page, his reply non-existent and I can’t take his silence, demanding, “Just tell me. Is Luke dead?”

He gives a sharp nod. “He’s dead.”

“When and how?”

“Six months after your house fire he was killed in a car accident.”

“We both know it wasn’t an accident.” My voice trembles on the words, the audience of men I didn’t want in the first place is suffocating. I cut around the table and rush through the kitchen, darting to the foyer stairs and upward in a charge toward the bedroom. Darkness greets me at the top level and I pause, a chill slithering down my spine.

Clutching the railing, I glance down the dark, windowless tunnel of a hallway that makes it look like nighttime, leading to parts of the house that I haven’t explored but wish I had. The unknown is not my friend. It’s proven that to me over and over with the force of a sharp whip. I glance over my shoulder and will my normally overwhelming man to appear. My man. I think of Liam as my man. I shake off the complicated ball of emotions that holds me captive a moment and refocus my attention forward, searching for the light switch I don’t find. Giving up, I dart to my right and into the dark bedroom, relieved as the massive windows and late afternoon sun cast the room in a warm glow.

Heart racing, I lean against the wall, almost expecting some stranger to come flying through the doorway in my wake. I shove fingers through my hair. I’m being paranoid, I tell myself. The house is safe. It’s Luke who is not. Luke, who, like everyone who steps inside my path, is gone. He’s dead and it doesn’t matter I haven’t talked to him for years or that he pretty much wasn’t a nice person. He was young and never got the chance to become more and I can’t help but feel responsible. At the time, hiding from danger had seemed the smart thing to do. Now though, with the PI and Luke dead, and who knows who else, and while I have no idea how I would have fought this battle at the young age of eighteen with no resources, at least it would have been my life, not theirs, on the line.

My hand settles on my belly, on the life I am responsible for, and, as much as I am certain that charging back to Texas would trigger my memories, returning no longer seems like an option. I could end up dead and my unborn child with me. Liam could end up dead with me. Footsteps sound on the stairs, and I am shocked to be completely certain it’s Liam despite the jumpiness of my nerves. That is how completely I am linked to this man. In all his dominating good and bad, he matters to me. He is my heart.

“Liam,” I whisper as he enters the room, stepping toward him.

Almost instantly, his hands settle at my waist, the impact of his touch slamming into me far harder than the wall that ends up at my back. It is frightening how easily I could let him get off with nothing more than his silent apology in the kitchen, when his earlier behavior is too big to just let slide. “We have to talk, Liam.”

“I was a complete asshole,” he replies, cutting right to the point. “I know. But after everything you learned in that kitchen the past hour, you have to see that Texas is a death wish.”

I blanch. “Are you seriously justifying being an asshole?” So much for the silent kitchen apology after all.

“I’m not apologizing at all. I’m telling you how it is. You will not go get yourself and my baby killed.”

“Your baby? Our baby. Our baby, Liam. Just like “we” and “together” does not equal you treating me like property. You can call me yours when you learn the difference.”

He shackles my legs, trapping my lower body with his, then shoves my hands over my head, his eyes blazing. “You’re mine. No matter what name you use or where you run, you are mine.”

His words whip through me, far sharper than the unknowns of my life, and they affect me, he affects me on every possible level. “I thought you weren’t going there, Liam? I thought you said this wasn’t what I needed right now.”

“Even your neighbor is dead, baby. That opened my eyes. You’re mine and that to me means to protect” —he slides his hand around my backside and molds my hips to his— “and make you scream my name as often and in as many creative ways as I can.”

My thighs all but vibrate with his words. “Saying I’m yours doesn’t make it so.”

“No?” he challenges, his lips, his breath, teasing my cheek and mouth, his hand brushing over my chest, my nipple, and settling at the knot at my waist that he unties. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” I manage, despite the way his fingers find the skin beneath my shirt, teasing the skin there, reminding me I am braless, exposed.

His eyes glint with a cool arrogance that both makes me want to kick him and lick him before he says, “I’m not convinced,” and proceeds to caress a path up my ribcage to my breasts.

I dig my fingers into his shoulders, barely fighting a moan of pure submission when his fingers find my nipples and tease, then tug, the touch as rough and erotic as his words when he’d declared me his.

He leans closer, the wicked male scent of him teasing my nostrils, his sensual mouth brushing my ear, teeth teasing the delicate lobe. “I told you once you weren’t alone and vowed to make sure you didn’t forget that. Now, I’ll rephrase. You aren’t alone and you’re mine. If you don’t know those things, I haven’t been clear enough but I will. Right here. Right now.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think of a reply, but his lips, those damn, perfect lips of his, distract me, caressing my neck, sending waves of sensation through me and leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. They find my mouth, brush it with a featherlight touch that has me balling my fingers in his shirt as he whispers, “Mine,” and then drags the t-shirt I’m wearing upward. I let him pull it over my head and toss it away before I can process what is even happening.

His hands go back to mine and he shackles my wrists, shoving them against the wall above me. “Leave them there until I tell you that you can move them.”

“Why would I do that?” I ask, all too aware that I am bare above the waist, my breasts thrust in the air, and it is both daunting and arousing to know that I am exposed in ways I think he understands more than I do.

His expression is dark, his tone absolute. “It’s your choice. It’s always your choice.”

“You said we were doing everything your way. That’s not a choice.”

“I said that I won’t let you get yourself killed. You’re right. That isn’t a choice.” He shocks me by abruptly turning me to face the wall, forcing me to hold my hands braced on the solid surface to support myself. Almost instantly he shoves my pants down, and I gasp with the shock of the cool air on my backside, then nearly sigh at the blessed relief it delivers to my heated skin. He slides my sweats down my hips and goes with them, squatting at my feet, and I don’t even try to stop him from removing my tennis shoes. And when the job is done, when I have I let him strip me bare, leaving him completely dressed, in control, he pushes to his feet again and he arches around me, flattening his hands over mine and moving them back where he’d wanted them before. Over my head and I have no option but to keep them there or crash into the wall. I want to crash into him. There is no denying it, and while there are many things I want to escape, he is not one of them.

The feel of his big body wrapped around me, the thick pulse of his erection resting against my backside, is too much and not enough. He skims down my arms, reaching around my body and over my naked breasts, his fingers ruthlessly tugging and twisting my nipples until my thighs are damp and my sex aching. Finally, his hand moves lower, palms flattening erotically on my backside, and he leans into me. “I think I might just tie you up in my bed and keep you there, just like I threatened. You’d be mine for sure then. I could lick you, kiss you...punish you for denying you’re mine, maybe even spank your pretty little ass.”

Chapter Eleven

Spank me? I gasp and try to turn, my heart exploding in my chest, but he holds me easily, his fingers wrapping my wrists. One of his hands goes to my breast, cupping it, holding my back to his chest. “Easy baby,” he murmurs. “I won’t spank you unless you ask me to.”

The rough, deep quality of his voice is frighteningly arousing considering the topic. “That’s never going to happen.”

“It’s not about pain, baby. It’s erotic pleasure and the kind of complete escape that leaves nothing but the moment. And the trust you give me because you’re mine. It leaves no room for anything but you and me and the moment. You need that. We need that.”

Any fear of the threat of a spanking evaporates. Yes, I whisper in my mind. I need that. Take me. Make me yours. I squeeze my eyes shut and he surprises me by turning me to face him, so I snap them back open. His eyes meet mine, hold me spellbound, the air thickening around us. He presses his fists into the wall by my head and tenderness settles over his face as he adds, “But what we need more than anything, Amy, is each other. I need you, baby. I need you alive and well and in my bed and my life. The idea of losing you is torture and it affects me but I know you aren’t my property. You’re the woman who changed me in ways I don’t even fully understand.”

Suddenly, I realize I might be bared to him when he is fully dressed, but we are both naked, exposed in ways I do not believe we have ever been with anyone else. The raw honesty in his eyes, the torment and fear, the vulnerability I sense and feel in him, speak to my soul. He speaks to my soul. And suddenly I get the sex games, and his need to control something when everything seems to be spinning and cracking.

I wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re right. We do need each other. I need you, but Liam--”

“No buts.” He slides his fingers around my neck, dragging my mouth to his. “Say it again. I want to hear you say it again.”

My heart squeezes with the vulnerability and need beneath the sandpaper rough command. His need for me. Mine for him. “I need you, Liam.”

“And that is everything to me, Amy. You are everything.” He kisses me, his tongue parting my lips, and when mine reaches for his, when that first sensual connection happens, it is as if a band of tension snaps between us. This is not a kiss, but an unleashing of wild heat. We are suddenly clinging to each other, touching each other, my arms wrapping his neck, my legs around his waist.

In an instant it seems, I am sandwiched between him and the wall, and his pants are to his knees, his shaft pushing into the slickness of my sex. He drives into me, stretching me, filling me, burying himself deeply, completely. I pant with the feel of him inside me, our foreheads settling together, another little thing that has become familiar, a sweet bond in the middle of absolute passion.

“You aren’t even undressed,” I whisper.

“We’ll do it in reverse next time,” he promises, and I laugh at the idea of such a purposeful transition, but he lifts me off of the wall, taking all of my weight, angling my hips and his cock for a deep, hard push, that has me moaning instead.

Clinging to his neck, I have a fleeting moment of worry about how he is holding my full weight, but it is gone with another pump of his cock, lost to his sexy, guttural groans. Curling into him, burying my face in his neck, I forget everything but the way he moves, the way he grinds into me. Time stands still for the push and pull of our bodies that lands me on my back on the mattress, legs over his shoulders, and yes, oh yes, his cock is deeper inside me, and he is driving harder and harder, faster and faster.

Tension returns to me in the form of a tight knot of muscles in my sex, burning with the promise of something sweet and wonderful. “Liam...I...I...” He leans in and kisses me, somehow still managing to move, to seduce me with the thick pump of his cock. All too easily, he chooses when to push me to the edge and over into a waterfall of sensations so intense the pleasure borders on pain. Reaching over my head, I grab the blankets beneath me, grasping for anything to hold onto, trying to stay in the moment, willing it to last but it escapes me, leaves me panting, drugged with the impact.

It is gone, but Liam is not. I come back to the world with another deep thrust of his shaft that has him shuddering from head to toe, and the intensity on his face, the primal beast that he is in that moment, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. He collapses on top of me, completely drained, but I feel the way he is careful not to crush me, how aware of me he is even in his own escape.

Seconds pass and he doesn’t speak and neither do I, but we don’t need to. It is good and right between us. When finally he moves, rather than pull out of me, Liam adjusts his pants enough to stand. I wrap myself around him without questioning his intentions.

We enter the bathroom to the flicker of automatic lights as he sets me on the counter and grabs a towel, pressing it between my legs as he pulls out of me.

His hand goes to the back of my head and he does that now familiar thing he does and rests his forehead against mine. I nestle my fingers in the soft, springy hair of his broad chest and I breathe with him, a deeper intimacy blooming between us.

“About earlier tonight,” he begins.

“It’s okay--”

“No. It’s my turn to say it’s not okay.” He eases back to look at me and those sharks he claims swim around his feet are swimming in his eyes. “I was an asshole.”

“You’re worried and you’d just been handed the VIP invitation to fatherhood you hadn’t planned for.”

“A VIP invitation to be a better man than my father, Amy.”

I suck in air at the unexpected answer. “Oh Liam--”

“Hear me out, baby.” His gaze flickers over my bare chest and he grabs a navy blue cotton robe from a latch behind the door and slides it over my shoulders. “It’s hard to think, let alone say what I have to say, when you’re naked.”

Cheeks burning, I stick my arms through the huge sleeves while he tugs the robe shut and ties it, his hands lingering on the knot at my waist. He lets out a heavy breath. “Okay.” He hesitates, then seems to push himself to confess, “When I was a kid my father got drunk and beat my mother.”

My eyes go wide and I open my mouth to issue words of sympathy, but I read the way he seems to wait for the bullets they would represent, and instead ask, “Did he hit you?”

“Oddly no, but for years I was the small child hiding in the closet while he played monster. I would shout and try to hit him but my mother begged me to stop. I was little, only eight, and she was sure I’d be hurt. Thankfully, the SOB disappeared. Him leaving was the best thing that ever happened to my mother. Then when I was thirteen, he came back for a night and my mother let him in her bed to wake up to a beating.” His expression turns all dark lines and haunted shadows. “At already six feet tall, I had listened to one too many brutal attacks, and I’d had enough. I put my fist into my father’s nose.”

Pride wells inside me at the bravery of a young boy who’d been through too much, too soon in life. “What happened?” I whisper, reading his tone as a resolution, not a nightmare to follow.

“He left. The end. And that’s where I was at today when I said it was my way. I knew standing up to my father was right, and I know hiding you and hiding you well is the answer now.  The only thing my father ever taught me worth learning was that I can’t do nothing, Amy, and I can’t ignore my own instincts.”

“Nothing is exactly what I’ve done for the past six years, Liam.”

“No. You survived and that says a lot.”

“That’s not enough. We’ve had this discussion.”

“You survived until you got here, with me. Now, you can lean on me.”

I shake my head. “No. I can’t just let you take care of me, and even if I was willing, I’m the one with the link to all of this. I’m the problem and the solution.”

His jaw sets hard. “We can’t go to Texas.”

“I know.” My whispered acceptance is etched in the pain of loss no longer hidden deep in my soul. I clear my throat and add, “But we can’t do this your way either and raise a child in hiding and looking around every corner.”

“I didn’t say hide forever, but in the past twenty-four hours a lot has become clear, like the willingness of whoever this is to kill anyone they see as a threat. And the fact that for every resource I have, they appear to have their own.”

“You mean they have money.”

“Yes. They have money, which means we need to get underground until we figure out a fight plan.”

“That’s not how you made it sound earlier.”

“I’m still going to want to leave you locked away and safe.”

“And--”

He kisses me. “I know. I know you can’t spend your life that way. We’ll figure it out.”

Relief and appreciation for this man who has become so much to me expands in my chest. “Where does that leave us now? What is our plan?”

“Moving just to move is dangerous. It means more people to see you and more chances to be found, and that’s a dangerous proposition when there’s a ransom on your head as we’ve already seen. We stay here a few days, get our ducks in a row, and then we move.”

“And we go where?”

“Asia. I have connections there and those connections with my money will be hard to penetrate.”

Asia. My head is spinning. “What about a new passport? I can’t travel as Amy Bensen after the private investigator ended up dead. Whoever is after me, has to know this identity.”

“I’ll charter a plane and handle whatever paperwork that needs to dealt with.” He grabs the lapels of the robe. “We’ll end this. You have my word.”

“We, Liam. If I’m going to another country with you, I need you to mean that this time.”

“I meant it every time I said it, but baby, I have my own Godzillas here and there. I can’t promise--”

“Not to be an asshole?”

“With good intentions. Always with good intentions.”

“Hmmmm.” I slide my hands under his shirt. “Well...I think good intentions gone bad always come with a price. I think you need to be spanked.”

His eyes light with mischief, and I watch what’s left of the darkness in his eyes fade. “You are going to spank me?”

“That’s right. But you have on too many clothes.”

“Well, never let it be said that I resisted my punishment.” His lips curve and he tugs his shirt over his head. “Better?”

“Getting there.”

He gives me a nod and steps away from me, and it’s the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as he begins to remove his shoes that warns me I’m the one who’s about to get spanked. I should be worried about that warning, but my earlier fear is gone. Hungrily, my gaze travels his naked, ripped torso, to land on the tattoo peeking from his unzipped pants and suddenly, it means so much more to me than ever before. It has become a symbol of the little boy who had a monster for a father and lost his mother too young but who didn’t quit.

Affection fills me and I slide off the sink and wrap my arms around him. “You had so many reasons to fail in life and yet you became such an amazing person. I’m going to fight like you did. For me and for us.” I sink down to my knees in front of him. “I am,” I say, spreading my hand over his tattoo, “infinitely yours, Liam Stone.”

He reaches for me and pulls me to my feet, molding me close. “Say it again,” he orders, his voice a raspy command.

I smile at this repeating theme. “I am infinitely yours, Liam Stone.” I curl my fingers on his jaw. “Now you say it.”

“You are infinitely mine.”

I glower at him and he gives me a devastating smile. “Baby, I have been yours from the moment I laid eyes on you.” He unties the robe. “Shall I show you? Or are you eager to continue with the punishment?”

“Yours, not mine. As in, no spanking.”

His lips hint at a curve. “We'll see about that.” He reaches for his pants and slides them down his legs, and there is no question, he’s risen to the challenge of “showing me”.

“No,” I say, pulling the robe shut. “We won’t.” But I am not afraid. I am never afraid with Liam.

He steps up to me, his expression all dark promise and smoky sensuality. “Like I said, we’ll see about that.” He shoves the robe down my shoulders.

I catch it at my elbows. “I’m pregnant.”

He arches a brow. “And that means what?”

“I’m pregnant,” I repeat.

“We could ask Dr. Murphy if-- ”

“We are not asking her any such thing.”

He laughs, a deep rumble of pure sex that I feel in every part of me. “Then I guess we’ll just have to figure it out for ourselves, won’t we?”

My sex clenches and I am horrified to realize how aroused this is making me. “Not now.”

“I’m in no rush.” He wraps his fingers around my neck and pulls my mouth to his. “In fact, I’m all about savoring you now that you’re mine. Nice and slow, baby.”

He kisses me and proceeds to convince me that his kind of slow is really, really good.

* * *

The next morning I stand in a massive closet, freshly showered and dressed in a pink silk robe, and thanks to the new products Derek’s sister had purchased for me along with the robe, my floral scented hair is blow-dried and shiny. All around me are bags filled with more items and while I’m incredibly grateful for the gifts, what really makes me smile is thinking about the way Liam had declared half the closet mine before heading to the kitchen to arrange grocery delivery from the corner store.

Thanks to his convincing me to stay in bed with him the previous evening with a Lord of the Rings marathon he’d claimed was rich in fictional history, I feel rested for the first time in months. Of course, me loving history, and keeping him naked and in his bed, had made my agreement fairly easy, but I’d known I was physically and emotionally at my limit, too. As a perk, the pizza we ordered to eat in bed like we’d done back in Denver, was not only yummy but didn’t make me sick. I almost think the sickness was more about stress and exhaustion than the pregnancy.

Done arranging my new things, I dress in a black velvet Victoria Secret sweatsuit with stylish wedge-heeled tennis shoes. Soon I suspect they will be all that will fit of this slim-fitted outfit and I’m looking forward to a visit from Dr. Murphy on Monday to talk about my due date and general care.

Looking oh so casual and sexy in a pair of gray sweats and a red t-shirt with the “pi” sign on it, Liam appears in the bedroom entryway about the time I’m about to seek him out.

His eyes light on me, and I feel his genuine pleasure at having me here which warms me to the core. “Let’s go get you comfortable with your new home, why don’t we?”

My stomach knots with his words as he leads me along with him, the real world I’ve spent hours hiding from striking its angry sword at me, reminding me of what I’ve pretended didn’t exist. I’m hungry for stability, for home, but I’m on the run and once I leave here, I may never be back.

All the more reason to drink in every second of the here and now, I remind myself, aware in deep, gut-wrenching ways how easily tomorrow might not exist. We travel the hallway that had been intimidatingly dark and is now a path to several elegantly decorated bedrooms, a library filled with architecture books and models of buildings Alex created. We spend a good hour talking about those, and then finally we enter The Dagger Room. The Dagger Room.

I step inside what is a long, rectangular-shaped room the size of two giant master bedrooms. It is all windows. At least a dozen glass cases are framed in gray wood with club foot legs etched in intricate designs, holding Alex’s dagger collection.

Liam waves me forward and I eagerly move to the first case as he explains, “You’ll find them divided by region and time period. And as I mentioned, you’ll find the collection heavily influenced by Alex’s Asian interests.”

My eyes go wide as a jade-handled dagger with remnants of dirt and age on the ivory blade comes into view, and I read, Shang Dynasty ca. 1046 BCE. Stunned, I look at Liam. “This is museum-worthy.”

“And now you know why I say I have a state of the art security system.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” I glance around at some of the other pieces and add, “I hope it’s really as good as you say it is.”

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if it weren’t. We’re wired like Fort Knox, baby, don’t you worry. Alex put a lifetime into this collection and I want to keep them safe, but I’m not sure I enjoy them the way they should be enjoyed. I need to find a museum to donate them to.”

Surprised, I study him, and I don’t miss the sadness in the depths of his eyes. “Are you sure you want to let them go?”

“Am I sure?” He laughs without humor. “There is the question. No, I’m not sure but it’s what Alex wanted. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.”

I wrap my arms around him, tilting my chin up to study him. “If I had anything that was my father’s, I don’t know if I could let it go either.”

“Have you visited any of his public displays?”

I shake my head. “I was afraid it would bring attention to me so I didn’t dare, and honestly, I had to try to block the past out. It’s how I got up every day.”

“The blackouts say that came with a price.”

“Isn’t there always a price?”

“Sometimes there’s happiness, Amy, and you deserve to experience that. I’m going to get you something of your father’s.”

“I just want the chance to say goodbye properly.”

“We’ll get you that, too.” He motions to our right. “The only Egyptian display in the room.”

In that moment, when I completely understand  his desire to give me any connection to my family he can, I know that I am devastatingly, completely in love with him and while we have not spoken the words, they sweep silently through the air, a current waiting to be charged.

I press to my toes and touch my lips to his, letting them linger a moment, and he flattens his hand on my back, holding me to him, breathing with me. With me. His presence in my life is like the lighthouse in stormy waters to a ship lost at sea.

Dragging my fingers over his goatee, I ease back and our eyes meet, triggering a mutual smile. He leads me to the display he’d indicated. “All but one are replicas, unfortunately,” he warns as we bring the five daggers laying on black silk into view, “but they are all antiques.”

I’m immediately drawn to a dagger carved in ebony with copper trim that is meant to represent the mid-BCE. My hand flattens on the glass, flashes of a memory teasing my mind, transporting me back to a dig site. I’d been fourteen and on the last trip I’d ever take with my family.

“What is it?” I ask eagerly, tossing my braided hair over my shoulder, and dropping to the desert ground next to Chad where he was digging fiercely.

“I don’t know. Some sort of limestone. Maybe a tool. Why aren’t you at lunch with the others?”

“I finished early.”

“Then make yourself useful. Go get help. Dad’s going to want to see this.”

I drop to my knees and start digging. Chad grabs my arm and grimaces, dirt smudging his handsome, tanned face. “You know better. We need a team and proper equipment. Go get help.”

“Father!”I shout at the top of my lungs. “Father!”

“I said go get help, not shout for help. I could have done that myself.”

“But you didn’t, so good thing you have me to think of the obvious, right?”

“Happy memory for once?” Liam asks, snapping me back to the present.

I tilt my head, “What?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Oh. Yes. It was a happy memory.” I give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“What’s that for?”

“For helping me honor them with good memories.”

The doorbell rings.

“That’ll be Tellar and Derek with lunch and the files for us to review.”

“Lunch sounds wonderful,” I say, linking my arm with his. “Rest has done my appetite wonders.”

I am in good spirits as I sit down at the table with Liam, Tellar, and Derek, another memory without a blackout expanding my optimism over recovering my past. Eager to get lunch done to learn about their research, I’m about to take a bite of my ham and cheese sandwich as splintering pain slices through my scalp.

I see the same dig site I’d been on with my brother. And I see him.

Oh God. I see him.

Chapter Twelve

Hot. I am so very hot. I lay in the tent, staring at the ceiling, or well, whatever you call it, thinking about how exciting the dig site had been today. My brother snorts out a loud snore that has laughter bubbling from my lips and I turn my head to study him. He blinks awake, eying me through the wayward blond locks of hair, and I’ve earned myself another of his grimaces. I do that often with Chad.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” he grumbles.

“It’s hot.”

“It’s always hot in Egypt in the summer.”

“I’m excited. I want to know what you found today.”

“We’ll know tomorrow.”

I roll to my side. “I wonder if we’ll find more than that one piece of limestone?”

He drops his arm over his face. “Sleep so we can get up early and find out.”

“I have to pee.”

He glances at me under his arm. “Of course you do.”

I open the tent and slip into the darkness and glance at the starless sky, remembering how dark it had been before the sandstorm I’d lived through last year. Terrifying didn’t begin to explain what it had been like. Quietly, I tiptoe past rows of tents and the silence, considering the large team on the site, is kind of creepy.

Finishing up at the portable bathroom, I frown at the rumble of voices and follow the sound, spotting my father standing beside the supply tent. A covered truck that isn’t part of our normal caravan is parked next to it. Curious, I squat down and crawl through a row of tents to come up on the side of one of the four Jeeps, peeking around the side. Darn. The stranger, or I think he is a stranger, now has his back to me but it’s too dark to see anything anyway.

The man opens the truck door and a beam of light hits my father, tracing the lines of his strained features. Discomfort burns in my belly and I am instantly on edge, certain this meeting is not a good one. The other man hands my father a large envelope and my father glances inside.

“This isn’t what we agreed upon,” my father says, his angry tone biting through the silence on a rare breeze, which lifts dirt and chokes me to the point I begin to cough. Both my father and the stranger turn to look at me…

“Amy. Amy. Damn it, Tellar, call Dr. Murphy.”

“No,” I gasp at Liam’s command, trying to push away from my chair to discover my chair is now Liam’s lap. “I’m okay.”

“Holy hell, woman,” Liam mumbles. “You scared the crap out of me. Again.”

“Uh yeah,” Tellar agrees. “Me too.”

“Add me to the list,” Derek adds. “I say call the doc.”

“No,” I insist. “I don’t feel pain. It wasn’t bad. It was good.”

He looks at me like I’ve finally lost it. “That was not good.”

“It was.”

Tellar stands up, the gun nestled in his shoulder strap glaringly obvious as he fixes Derek with a pointed look. “We should give them a few.”

“No,” I insist quickly. “You both came here to help me get answers and I’ve never needed them as much as I do right now.” I try to get up and Liam holds me in place. I glower at him. “Let me sit back in a chair.”

“You just--”

“Had a blackout. I get it. I’ve been having them for years.”

“You weren’t pregnant.”

The barked out worry of his reply gives me pause and I stroke his cleanly-shaven jaw.  “Dr. Murphy knows about the flashbacks.”

“And she obviously doesn’t know about you passing out and hitting your head like you did in Denver, or she would have done more to stop them.” His tone is pure disapproval. “I’ll be calling her today.”

In my worry about ending this nightmare before the baby arrives, I didn’t ask enough questions when I was with Dr. Murphy. I stroke my thumb over his neatly trimmed goatee. “She’s planning to meet with us for an in-depth consultation on Monday. Let her have her weekend.”

He scowls. “I’m not letting her send me out of the room this time.”

“Agreed. Now can I go back to my chair?”

Looking less than pleased, he allows me to stand, but he isn’t about to let go of me completely until I’m settled back at the table on my own. Tellar is still standing and all three men stare at me like they expect me to black out again any second. And if not for the baby, I’d almost wish they were right. I want to remember more, faster.

I flatten my hands on the sleek wood of the table and begin revealing what I think is one of my most important flashbacks to date. “When I was in Egypt at one of the last dig sites I was at with my family, I saw the man who was having an affair with my mother.” The rest of the admission is painful. “He was with my father.”

Liam rolls his chair around to face me and Tellar moves to sit back down. Apparently, I’ve gotten their attention. “Who is he?” all three men ask at once.

“I don’t have a name.” I try to visualize the man’s face but can’t. He’d turned around. I’d seen him. Hadn’t I? “All I saw clearly was the back of his head and his profile, or that’s all I remember right now. It was the middle of the night, so it was dark, and all of the workers on the sight were tucked away in tents and sleeping. I’d left mine to go to the bathroom. They were by a supply tent.”

“Just your father and this man?” Derek prods.

“Yes, and…” I wet my suddenly parched lips. “I’m not sure why I hid, but I hid. I tried to make out what was being said, but it was no different than the night this man was with my mother in Jasmine Heights. I couldn’t hear much.”

“Anything you heard could be helpful,” Liam encourages, “even if you think it’s not.”

“The man handed my father an envelope and when my father looked inside he was angry enough that he raised his voice and I heard him say...he told the man that “it”, whatever was in the envelope, wasn’t the amount promised.”

I expect questions and comments and all I get is blank looks that frazzle my nerves. “No,” I say, to the accusations in the air they don’t even have to speak.

Liam covers my hand, his expression as grim as his tone. “You know what it sounds like. You have to.”

My defenses flare. “It’s not some sort of payoff for illegal activity. We had investors and donations. It had to be that, or maybe it wasn’t money at all. My point is simply that my mother was having an affair with someone my father was doing business with.” My throat tightens. “That somehow makes it worse.”

Tellar interjects, “I started out working for a PI who specialized in cheating--” he seems to catch himself, “domestic disputes. It’s common that the affair happens with someone close to the couple. I’d bet my two front teeth that this guy is at the root of all of this.”

It was never about the money. I’d overheard my mother say that to someone. Who? And if someone claims it’s not about the money, then money is involved.

Liam sets my sandwich more fully in front of me. “Let’s eat and then we’ll all dig into the files with the connection in mind.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to eat. I want to look through the files now.”

Liam sighs and motions to Derek. “The pictures. Show her the pictures.”

My brow furrows. “Pictures?”

Derek reaches down into the box he’d brought with him, retrieves a black three-ring binder, and sets it in front of me. “It’s every picture we could pull of anyone who ever crossed your path. Maybe you will find your man in there.”

I stare at the binder that holds the past I’ve tried to force into a dark corner in my mind these past six years, steeling myself for what I will see, still wholly unprepared when I flip it open. It’s like a physical blow when I see my mother staring back at me, her lovely blue eyes bright, her long blonde hair like silk around her pretty face. But the blow is nothing compared to her screams for help echoing in my mind.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the burning sensation that does nothing to help me or my mother. Liam rolls his chair closer, his hand on my leg, his food as forgotten as mine. “Tell me about her,” he says softly.

I have to swallow twice before I whisper, “I can’t. Not now.” I swallow again. I think I might be sick.

“If you aren’t up to this--”

“I am.” I look at him, straightening my spine. “I have to be.” I flip another page. Liam squeezes my leg and I cover his hand with mine, welcoming the strength he is to me.

Two hours later, I haven’t found the image of the man, and I’ve looked at every photo twice. I flip back to the beginning to start again and Liam shuts the notebook. “Don’t do that to yourself again. Clearly, he’s not in there, but a whole lot of pain is.”

Again, he’s right. I think I’ll tell Dr. Murphy I’ve diagnosed myself on Monday. It’s not Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It’s a broken heart. “You have to eat, baby,” Liam continues. “You haven’t touched your sandwich.”

“I might have something here,” Derek interjects, keying something into his computer and then glancing up at us. “Being the real estate guy that I am, I know that cities with Jasmine Heights’ modest population of twenty thousand that are booming, as it is, tend to have a primary investor who’s making it happen. Turns out I was right. Not only does one man own most of the primary real estate, but he is a substantial investor in, get this,” he pauses for effect, “the hospital that shows no record of you ever being there.”

Of course it doesn’t. To the world outside this room, I’m dead. “Who?” I ask and I don’t sound urgent. The truth is, looking at those photos was like taking a knife and slicing me open. I’m bleeding inside and barely holding it together.

“His name is Sheridan Scott,” Derek supplies. “Sound familiar?”

“No. But that doesn’t always mean it won’t later after I’ve had time to think.”

Derek turns his computer to face Liam and I. “What about now?”

“No,” I say, disappointment filling me as I stare at the image of a good looking sixty-something-year-old man in a suit, his dark hair peppered with gray. “He’s way too old. My mother was in her forties. I guess the man to be her age or younger. Tall, and dark, and good looking.”

Liam moves his computer to sit in front of me and pulls up another photo for me to study. I frown. “Why are you showing me Alex?”

“You’ve seen his photo?”

“I googled him way back in Denver when you told me about him.”

His shoulders visibly relax. “I just wanted--”

“To build trust.” I give the other men my back and cup his cheeks, not caring about the audience. “You have it.” I press my lips to his, drinking in the connection to the one person in this world I can trust, and the idea eases the hurt created in me by the photos just enough to make it bearable. He, like our child, gives me the light in the darkness to fight this battle. I have to keep fighting.

* * *

Saturday morning is bittersweet. It begins with me in the shower with Liam and we almost forget the idea is to use soap and shampoo. Afterward, still craving that casual feeling of hanging around the house we’d had the day before, I convince Liam to dress in a navy Yankees sweatsuit I find in his drawer and I choose a pale pink one of my own, minus the sports logo. We head to the kitchen together to meet up with Tellar and Derek to do more research, but for a few more moments, I am still all about Liam, the father of my child, and I’m amazed how, no matter what he wears, he owns the space around him. And yes, me, too.

“The chef is in the house,” Tellar announces and Liam and I claim seats at the table and he moves around the kitchen like he owns it, and despite his cheery tone, his shoulder holster and gun dent my mood.

Liam leans in and kisses me. “I need to make a couple of business calls.” He eyes Tellar. “I expect the chef to be in when I get back.”

Tellar mock salutes him. “At your command, sir. Yes, sir.”

Laughter bubbles from my lips and I murmur a greeting to Derek. For a moment, I have the oddest sense of being in a happy bubble that could burst at any moment, and I don’t want it to. Tellar sets a cup in front of me and fills it. “Decaf per the boss’s orders. And how about an omelet? Or eggs sunny-side up? Name your egg.”

“Scrambled eggs well-done, please.” I lift the cup. “And thank you.”

Derek and I chat for a few minutes about his sister who’s a high-end real estate agent, and by the time I finish my eggs, Liam returns. Tellar whips him up an omelet and I listen as Derek and Liam talk about the Denver project Derek is still trying to salvage, the one Liam was supposed to design. Listening to them, I become aware of the bond between these two men that is far more brotherly than simple friendship. And I get why Derek is here. He, and Tellar too, despite being on payroll, are the closest thing to family Liam has. Except for me and the baby.

I reach under the table and press my hand to Liam’s leg. His hand covers mine and we exchange a warm stare. Not for the first time, I am moved by how alike Liam and I are. How alone we were in a world of billions of people until we found each other. I know why he battles being over-protective. I can’t lose him or this child.

“Need anything else?” Tellar asks me.

I frown at him. “What’s happening? Why are you acting like a doting Papa Bear?”

He shrugs. “You’re pregnant and my mom and four sisters taught me right.”

“Four sisters?”

“That’s right. Four. Three of whom have had babies. So, I ask again. Need anything else?”

I look at his gun and then back at him, a tiny prick in my bubble. He’s not just family. He’s a trained protector and killer. “Yes,” I reply. “I need you to not need that. I didn’t notice it the first night we met.”

“I use an ankle holster in public, but this is easier to access.”

“Right. And you need it to be easy to access.”

“This is where I tell her the truth,” Tellar says to Liam. “Yes. I do.”

“Yes, baby, he does,” Liam agrees, drawing my attention. “And I’d feel better if you had one and knew how to shoot it.”

“I don’t like guns, but I can shoot and if I wasn’t afraid the registration would somehow make me more trackable, I’d have bought one long ago.”

Liam leans back in his chair, his dark hair intensifying the aqua of his piercing eyes. “Not the answer I expected.”

“Yeah well, it wasn’t by choice, though I’m not beyond seeing the value of knowing how to protect myself. Learning to shoot was the condition for me traveling with my father. He was concerned about females in a foreign country that isn’t female-friendly.” Tellar sits down with a plate piled high with eggs, potatoes and a bagel and my eyes go wide. “And apparently lugging around a big weapon takes a lot of energy.”

Tellar’s eyes light up. “Don’t you know it, honey.”

Liam ignores the exchange, sitting up, elbows on the table. “Was your father’s concern a general one, or based on a specific threat?”

“We had various issues over my mother and me not covering our faces and bodies.”

Liam presses, “Anyone in particular you remember that we should look into?”

“No. No one specific. I can tell you think this is a potential lead, but really it’s not that uncommon over there. It happens.”

“An interesting thing about Sheridan I think would be well-timed right about now,” Derek interjects. “He’s not only richer than Liam, which is pretty damn rich, he’s richer because he’s into oil. He’s got a connection to Jasmine Heights and now we’ve linked him to Egypt.”

I twist in my seat to face him. “We weren’t involved in oil,” I say but even as I do I hear my mother shouting, and I hug myself against the shiver racing down my spine.

* * *

Monday morning comes and Liam leaves me with Tellar to take care of business at the bank, but he’s back in time for Dr. Murphy’s visit. “Why don’t we just use the bed?” she suggests, very proper in a navy suit dress while I’ve opted for the distressed jeans and red sweater I wanted to wear before they no longer fit.

I claim the edge of the mattress and she joins me and begins checking my vitals. Liam, as promised, refuses to be sent from the room.

“How is she?” Liam asks, towering over us, and looking incredibly, intimately male in a dark suit and pressed white shirt, his blue eyes glinting bluer with the sun and water behind him.

“Her vitals are good and so was her blood work. I’m setting the due date as June 26th.”

My eyes connect with Liam’s and I expect excitement, but I find intensity, worry. He doesn't even comment on the date. “She hit her head at one point when she fell and needed stitches.”

“My recommendations haven't changed. Acupuncture and therapy. I can do an acupuncture session today before I leave.” She glances at me. “Are you eating?”

I nod. “Yes. Now that I’m rested, I seem less nauseous.”

“Can she travel?”

Dr. Murphy gives Liam a keen inspection. “Does she need to travel?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“International. I’m not at liberty to tell you more.”

“I need more to prepare her vaccinations. She has to be protected.”

“Go wide,” Liam says. “We might be one place and move to another.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

I am on my feet in an instant, closing the short distance between him and me. “Tomorrow?”

His hands come down on my shoulders, warm and solid. “Yes. I told you to trust your instincts and now I’m asking you to trust mine.”

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Dr. Murphy says. “I need to call my office anyway.”

Liam glances over my shoulder. “Any of the rooms on this floor are at your disposal.”

She clears her throat. “If you want to give birth here, you need to be back by May 1.”

I hear the door shut, confirming her exit, and ask, “Where?”

“Taiwan. I have contacts there that can protect us and I’ve already lined up medical care and a place for us to stay.”

Taiwan. It’s a long way from Texas. “What about paperwork?”

“I’ve arranged everything. We’ll have what we need by morning. We need to do this.”

This is the ultimate test, the confirmation I trust him completely, and I reach deep, doing what I’ve always done to survive, and what Liam claims I’ve done well. I listen to my instincts and they say I belong with this man.

I inhale and nod. “Yes. Okay.”

* * *

The trust I’ve given Liam seems to deepen our bond further and every nervous moment I have, he seems to anticipate with a touch, a look. A moment no one else could have with me. Moments I had never thought I’d share with anyone, ever.

Bedtime comes and I climb into bed. Liam brings my purse and sets it next to me. I frown and he lays a small leather case on the bed. My pulse leaps even before he unsnaps it and shows me what’s inside. “It’s a Smith & Wesson .38. Compact and easy to fit in your purse.” He presses it into my hand. “Comfortable?”

I close my eyes, swallowing the knot in my throat. “As comfortable as needing this is going to get.” I check it, confirm it’s loaded, and close it back in the case. “Thank you.” I stick it in the black Chanel purse and it fits perfectly.

Liam sets my bag on the nightstand, and climbs into bed with me. “I want to feel your skin,” he murmurs, stripping away my gown and his boxers, and wrapping me in his strong arms, my back to his front. But this moment isn’t about sex and passion, of which we have plenty for one another. It’s about hope, and fear, and the kind of loss neither of us want to feel again.

“Safety first,” he reminds me, stroking my hair in that soothing way he does. “Answers second. I’ve got you, baby. I promise. I’ve got you and I’ve got us.”

My lashes lower, letting the scent of him, familiar and warm like his arms, ease the tension in my body. He’s right. Safety first, but I can’t escape this horrible feeling gnawing at my gut. Like once I leave, I’ll never come back. I’ll never come back. Unable to fully sleep, I drift in and out of that thought. Once I leave...

Suffocating from the smoke pouring into my room, I shove open the window and suck in fresh air but I’m not sure I want to breathe. My mother...she’ s stopped screaming. I don’t know what that means. What does it mean?

“Mom! Mom, answer me!”

“Jump, Lara!” my brother shouts. “Jump now.”

“Not without you and Mom and Dad!” I shout back at him, angry at something, everything. Afraid of the orange flames licking a path through my door, ready to consume it as they had the hallway.

“You see the flames, damn it,” he answers. “I can’t get to you. I’m going out another window. I’ll meet you outside.”

The flames move closer and I perch on the edge of the window. He didn’t say anything about Mom and Dad. “Mom’s okay? Did Dad get to her? Did he get her out?”

“Goddamnit, Lara. How many times do I have to tell you to jump out of the fucking window! I’m running out of time. Get out so I can get out.”

The flames jump to my bed and I scream. I barely remember perching on the window sill but I’m grateful for my sweats and tennis shoes as I wobble and have to catch myself. It’s dark and I can’t see below but I know the roof slants and there’s a tree just below my bedroom. Heat sears my back and I yelp, climbing out onto the roof and squatting, clinging to the window’s ledge to keep from sliding into the darkness. Praying the fire trucks will come before I jump. Why aren’t they coming? Why aren’t they here?

Flames flash through the center of the window and I let go of it, sliding into a near tumble. Somehow, I right myself flat on my stomach to watch flames eating away at my curtains.

“Please get them out, Chad. Please. All of you get out.”

Looking over my shoulder, I scoot farther down the slant and my feet catch on the gutter, and it almost gives. Cautiously, I inch around and manage to get to a squat. It’s dark, so very dark, and I try to gauge how close the tree limb is. At least I can’t see how high it is. I hate how high it is.

I reach for the limb when a blast from behind me shakes my bones and I’m thrown from the roof.

Gasping, I sit and the sound of screeching tears through my ears. Alarm. Fire alarm. Smoke bites viciously at my nostrils. Oh God. Oh God. No. I start to shake all over. This can’t be happening. I blink Liam into view, standing over me, shouting something at me. I don’t know what. I just know the house is on fire. The house is on fire.

Chapter Thirteen

Liam curses and throws the covers off of our naked bodies, wrapping an arm around my neck and pulling me to him, his mouth finding my ear while the alarm remains brutally loud. “Get dressed, and remember, I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you and I’ve got us.” He lets go of me and he’s out of the bed, buck naked and headed for the hallway.

He’s got us. Brave and heroic words that he believes, but so did my brother in his own way. So did my father. My heart lodged in my throat, I scramble off the bed, and my adrenaline is pumping but I am remarkably calm. I will not crumble. I will not be defeated. And I will not jump out the window alone again.

I dart for the closet and tug on gray sweats and a t-shirt, and it’s impossible to escape the memory of doing the exact same thing six years ago. I’m just shoving my feet into tennis shoes when Liam appears in the closet doorway, already dressed in the same black sweatsuit he’d worn on Saturday.

“I smell the smoke but I see no fire.” He has to practically shout to be heard over the alarm. “I called 911 and Tellar. It’s an old house. It could be electrical.”

I all but flinch at exactly what had been said about my old family home. He exits the closet and I follow, ready to get out of here. I know exactly how fast flames appear and consume a home. Liam pauses by the bed and grabs my purse, sliding the strap cross body over my head and I know it’s for the gun. He doesn’t believe this is electrical or a coincidence any more than I do. The picture is pretty clear. Us hunkering down inside had forced someone to act, perhaps trying to kill us where we sleep, or since we see no flames as of yet, drive us out into the open.

Holding onto my hand, he leads the way out into the hallway, and my stomach forms knots as we start down the stairs. I think of Alex’s dagger collection we’re leaving behind. Liam’s piece of his past.

My teeth chatter with the intensity of the screams of the alarms and a stunning realization washes over me. The alarms in my Texas home had not gone off. Not one, and we’d had several.

“Liam!”

Tellar’s shout comes a moment before he appears on the bottom level staircase, and we follow him back down. “There’s smoke on the lower right exterior of the house but no flames,” he reports over his shoulder, pausing to face us as we hit the garage, and I shiver at the cold blast of November winter wind gushing in through the open doors as he adds, “The gates to the house are open, too, for the emergency crews, and Derek has security clearing the building next door to be safe.”

“Good. I don’t want this exploding on us and leaping over there.” Liam curses and runs a hand over the dark dusting of stubble on his jaw. “I have to go back for the travel documents.”

Anxiety shoots through me. “What? No. That’s insanity. You can’t go back inside the house. You can’t.” He cups my face. “I’m getting you out of here before I can’t.” He eyes Tellar, his jaw set in steel like his tone. “Do not let her out of your sight.” He lifts me by the arms and pretty much hands me to Tellar.

“No, Liam.” I jerk forward and Tellar shackles my waist. “No. Don’t do this, Liam! Don’t go in the house again!” But he’s already running back toward the door.

“What’s happening? Where’s Liam?”

At the sound of Derek’s voice, I grab for the distraction and kick Tellar. He grunts. “Damn it. Stop it, Amy.”

“He’s in the house, Derek,” I explain, squirming against Tellar, trying to see Derek and make my case to him. “Do you hear me? He’s in the house. You’re not on his payroll. You don’t have to listen to Liam and let him get himself killed.”

“That’s low, Amy,” Tellar snaps and then says to Derek, “Liam’s fine. He went back in to grab some paperwork.”

“He’s not fine,” I insist, twisting in his arms. Finally I manage to free myself enough to face him. “Let me go, Tellar.”

“There are no flames, Amy. He’s fine and I’m not letting you run back into the house.”

“If there are no flames and he’s fine, why is that a problem?” I challenge.

A fire truck roars loudly into the driveway behind us and pain splinters through my head. I lean into Tellar, pressing my face into his shirt and for a moment, I’m back on the roof of my old house, reaching for that tree limb and being blasted off the edge.

Tellar starts dragging me out of the garage, snapping me back to the present. I’d assumed the blast at my house had been from the fire, but...I dig in my heels and yank hard on Tellar’s arm. “I think there was a bomb in my house in Texas. What if there’s one now? Get him out of the house. Get Liam out now!”

“Fuck,” Tellar growls and now I’m shoved at Derek. “Get her away from the house.”

Tellar runs toward the building and that’s when the world spins and all my vows to stay calm evaporate, leaving me with nothing but panic. My mother’s screams play in my head, shredding parts of my mind and soul with every repetition. I can hear Chad yelling for me to jump. He never thought he’d make it. I should have helped him. I should have stayed and now Liam is going to die. Everyone I love dies. And God, what if Tellar dies now, too?

I start pushing and shoving against Derek, fighting to get to Liam and Tellar. I screwed up. I did this all wrong. A sob rips from my throat, and sounds are coming from my throat I don’t recognize as being from me but they are.

Derek curses. “Woman, you’re going to hurt yourself and I can’t let that happen.” He bends at the waist and hikes me over his shoulder. I yelp with the insanity of the moment, and he starts to run.

Blood rushes to my face, tears pouring over my forehead and I suck in so much cold air that I start to cough and choke. Firemen are everywhere. People are everywhere. I can’t breathe or think until finally, Derek slides me to my feet and when I think I’ll yell at him, the minute I see the concern in his eyes, I sob and melt against him. “I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

He holds me to him, hugging me. “You’re not going to lose him. I promise.”

I push back and glare at him. “Like my brother promised he was coming out of the house? Like that, Derek?”

“Amy--”

“Because he didn’t come out.” My voice quakes with anger and heartache. “He. Didn’t. Come. Out. None of them came out.”

Suddenly I’m pulled around and Liam wraps me in his strong arms. Relief washes over me. I can finally breathe again. “Oh, thank God.”

The warmth of his palms frames my face. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“It’s not okay. It’s not. I told you to stop saying that. Just because you say it does not make it so, Liam. You think it does. You think you can will it, whatever “it” is, at the moment to happen, and make it so. You think--” He scoops me up and starts walking. “Stop picking me up. Stop acting macho before it gets you killed.”

“She’s pregnant,” he tells a fireman, ignoring me. “I need her checked out.”

“I don’t need--” I begin.

“You do,” Liam insists, rotating around so that I can see the EMS truck and a man in uniform. “She needs to be checked, but give us a minute, will you?”

The man moves aside and Liam climbs into the truck, setting me on the bed and joining me. I slide my hand to his leg. “You shouldn’t have gone back in. You shouldn’t--”

He leans in and kisses me, the touch of his mouth on mine sending a wave of warmth through me and I cup his face, holding his cheeks. “Don’t do that to me again,” I whisper on a breath. “It was like having my heart ripped from my chest.”

“I wouldn’t scare you or hurt you on purpose.” He curls my hand in his. “Talk to me about the bomb.”

“I remember being on the roof of my house. I was trying to get to the tree to jump and the house exploded.”

“Fire can do that, baby.”

“But the alarms in the house didn’t go off. Not one of them, Liam.”

His expression darkens. “Listen to me, Amy. They brought in bomb-sniffing dogs, but that comes with questions and complications. Don’t talk about this to anyone. Tell them you were panicked and hysterical.”

“I don’t believe this was coincidence, so if there wasn’t a bomb or a fire, why do this?”

“Good question, and exactly why we need out of here and the country before we find out.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone.” Liam twists around to glance at the police officer standing at the end of the EMS vehicle, who says, “Can I ask you both some questions?”

“Me,” Liam replies. “Yes. Not her. She’s pregnant. I don’t want her stressed.” Liam doesn’t give the officer a chance to object, turning back to me. “I’ll be right outside. I’m sending the EMS guy in to check you out.” He leans in as he had in the house, pressing his cheek to mine. “We are out of here the instant we navigate the red tape and sooner if I get worried.”

He’s gone in an instant then and a forty-something EMS worker climbs inside with me. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine now.” The uncertain look he gives me tells me he probably witnessed my meltdown. “Really. I’m fine.”

He squats in front of me. “Let’s get your stats to be sure.”

The rumble of Liam’s voice lifting, telling me he is near, and the fact that I really don’t want to answer questions, keeps my butt on the bed. “Yes, please.”

A few minutes later, he finishes up. “You’re all clear but I still think you should rest here until we can get you to the hospital to check out the baby.”

“The baby?”

“Is fine,” he says. “But it’s always good to be careful. Safety first.”

“Right,” I say of the words Liam had used before we’d gone to sleep and for some reason I think of the gun in my purse. “Safety first.”

A fireman appears at the end of the truck and motions to the man, who excuses himself and goes to speak with him. I strain my ears for Liam and can still hear him but it’s impossible to make out anything he’s saying. The EMS worker returns and squats beside me again. “Special delivery. You have someone worried about you who can’t get past security.” He hands me a folded note and adds, “From your brother, I’m told.”

My heart begins to thunder in my ears and everything seems to sway and tilt around me. Chad is alive? It can’t be but...I’m alive.

The EMS tech pats my leg. “I need to call in to my boss on the radio. If you want to get a message to your brother let me know.” He moves to the front of the vehicle and claims a seat.

I stare at the white piece of paper and my heart is in my throat. I’m afraid to open the note and have my fast expanding hope shattered, but I have to know. I flip it open and read the unfamiliar writing.

Amy, 

I wish I could say this in person. This is Meg. I know you think I work at the Denver real estate office but I’m actually your sister-in-law. Chad didn’t die in the fire. He hid like he hid you. They found him right after he moved you to Denver. They took him. Now they want something from us or they’re going to kill him. They think you and I both know what that is. I hope you do because I don’t. We have to save Chad. I’m not sure what is up with Liam. I think he could be involved or after what they’re after. If he’s not and he gets in the middle of this, they’ll kill him like they do anyone who gets in their way. I’m in a cab across the street. I’m sure you know, but cellphones are traceable. Leave yours. Just walk out of the open gate and come to me. No one is expecting that. Hurry before you can’t. Chad’s life depends on it.

I hunch forward. Bile gathers in my throat, the acid burn of emotions that shift and change from second to second, almost too much to handle. Chad alive? Meg is his wife? Liam is involved? I expect to feel joy over Chad and heartache over Liam, but in my heart I believe nothing in this letter. This is a trap. The moment there was a threat to Liam, I was snagged.

Aware that Liam is just outside the vehicle and could return at any moment, I’m left with limited time to think through all the ways every next step I take could go wrong. I open my purse and dig for a pen, my gaze landing on the leather holster, and the weapon nestled in its depths, I say a silent thank you to Liam for the protection it offers. It also tells me he is protecting me. He is not a part of the hell I’m running from.

Shutting my purse, I decide to leave Liam the note from Meg so he knows exactly what is happening. I know Liam will come after me, and he needs a way to find me. If only I had a phone. I inhale and start to write.

Liam--

I don’t know if Chad is alive. I only know that there is a clear threat to your life in this note. I’m leaving the note so you see you are in danger. I know you will look for me but don’t get killed doing it. Losing you would destroy me.  

I hesitate only a moment, reminding myself life is too short for regrets, and I add, 

I love you,

Amy

I fold the note, write Liam’s name in big bold letters and with great regret, drop it on the mattress. Inching to the edge of the truck, a ball of pressure forms in my chest when I find Liam to my right with his back to me. Nothing would please me more than to run up and hug him and I vow that moment will be sooner, not later. I eye the two police officers who are talking to him, and consider cutting to my left and out of sight around the edge of the truck. But without a view of what awaits, I risk running into Tellar or Derek.

My gaze settles on some sort of mini fire truck with hoses directly ahead of me and I decided it’s my best coverage. Confirming Liam’s broad shoulders and wide stance offers adequate cover from the cops, I draw a breath and decide to just go for it. Calmly, careful not to bring attention to myself, I climb out of the truck and start walking. And I keep walking, moving past the mini truck and to the gate, then straight toward the exit where the gates remain open with nothing but orange traffic cones as a deterrent to those coming and going.

I’m on the street with not so much as a question asked of me, and I scan for the cab, finding it to the left of the gate. Glancing over my shoulder, some part of me hopes Liam will come charging after me, while another is relieved he is not. More of that regret burrows deep in my gut, but I know I have to do this. Darting across the street, I slip my hand in my purse, unsnap the case around the gun and slip it free. My hand is on the handle when I stop at the cab, and yank open the door, giving myself a split second to register that it’s really Meg inside.

“Amy.” She breathes out my name like it’s relief when it feels dangerous on her tongue, wrong.

“Hurry,” she urges. “Before you’re seen.”

I don’t move. I can’t seem to make myself get in the car.

She shoves a photo at me and I stare at it, then gasp at the image I haven’t been able to fully form in my mind of my brother’s face, staring back at me, his arm wrapped around Meg’s shoulder. He’s with her. I can’t breathe all over again.

“He’s...he’s alive.”

“Not for long if we don’t do something. Help me save him, Amy. Please. I beg of you. Help me save him.”

Chad is alive. Chad is alive! I get into the car and slam the door shut.

Chapter Fourteen

“Go!” Meg shouts at the driver and I cannot help but think of the moment at the Denver airport with Liam chasing after me. When I’d been running from the wrong thing and the wrong person.

The cab pulls away from the curb and Meg throws her arms around me. “Thank God you’re okay.”

Reluctantly I return the hug that seems meant more for family than virtual strangers, unable to fight my unease. Shifting away from her, I take the photo she holds, staring at the image, thankful for the city of passing lights that allows me to soak in the way Chad’s blue eyes are lit up with a smile and how his longish blond hair curls just a bit at his forehead and brows.

My gaze lifts to Meg’s, her pale blonde hair a shade not so unlike my brother’s, and I see no discomfort at my intense inspection, just more sympathy, though I’m not sure for what. Pain, maybe? Fear? Confusion? Do these things I feel so completely in this moment radiate off of me the way control and confidence do with Liam?

Her hand covers mine where I’m holding the photo and I don’t miss the obvious symbolism of the choice. “I have more pictures of him. He’s alive, Amy,” she vows. “We have to keep him that way.”

My lips part and there is a burn at the back of my throat and in my belly. I’m not ready to believe yet and risk the heartache of loss all over again. “Tell me everything. I need to know everything.”

She glances at the driver and back at me. “Not until we’re alone. I don’t trust anyone. I just don’t.”

I sink down on the cushion and flatten the picture onto my chest. Don’t trust anyone. The same lesson my handler—my brother?—had given me quite effectively without any real conversations, but then, actions speak louder than words.

Meg sinks down next to me to me, close, too close I think. She laughs without humor. “Ironic, right?”

My brows dip. “What?”

“I just told you I don’t trust anyone and now I want you to trust me.”

Ironic. Yes. Very. “I just want Chad back.”

“Then we want the same things.”

No. If that were true, Liam would be here. “I have questions. Lots of questions.”

“As you should.”

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were before now?”

“Not now,” she cautions. “When we’re alone and safe. We need to focus on safety and the speed of our departure. A man like the one you just left behind will shut down this city to stop you if he can.”

I get her discretion, but I don’t like how she’s avoided his name. “What do you mean, a man like him?”

“Rich and obsessed. It’s a dangerous combination.”

My defenses prickle. “He’s far more than you give him credit for.”

“Oh, I give him plenty of credit, which is exactly why I told our driver to take us to the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge. We need out of this city before he can stop us.”

I cut my gaze and stare out of the window, repeating her words in my head. Out of this city. I would have said the exact same thing forty-eight hours ago and I guess that should be comforting. She is thinking like I was thinking. Even Liam was screaming we had to leave fifteen minutes ago. But together. We were supposed to be together.

Thirty-minutes later, I’ve spent the drive replaying conversations I’ve had with Meg in the past, looking for warning signs, but there isn’t much to go on. We exit the cab at a chilly subway station and I eye Meg’s blue jeans, black knee-high boots and black leather jacket with envy. “Where to now?” I ask, hugging myself and not looking forward to being braless in a subway, especially at whatever time it is. I don’t even know.

“I left my car in Albany.”

“How far is that?”

“Three hours, and one stop where we have to change trains. That is, if we can catch the last train out at 12:30. Otherwise we have to find a cheap hotel and hole up, which gives anyone looking for us time to organize.” She eyes her dainty silver watch. “We’re cutting it close. We’d better run.”

We dart forward, and unbidden, Liam’s voice plays in my head, run to me, Amy, not from me. I’m trying, I think. I really am trying and I hate the hell I must be putting him through.

An hour later, Meg and I have finally completed the short trip from one stop to another and have boarded the train to Albany, settling uncomfortably into the hard plastic seats, with cool air rather than heat blasting me from a vent somewhere above. With no one near us for several rows front and back, we are in the perfect place to talk without eavesdropping.

I lean against the window and face her. “Tell me about Chad. Tell me everything.”

“He’s everything to me and I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back.”

She says the words with conviction and emotion, so why am I struggling to believe her? “How did you meet him?”

“I was a full-time student working at a diner to pay the bills when he started coming in during my shifts. We’d flirted quite a bit. Still, he never asked me out. I wasn’t sure what to think. Then one night this creepy customer was drunk and he tried to...he was inappropriate. Chad punched him and I was rattled. Really rattled. It reminded me...” She cuts her gaze a moment and draws a breath. “I had some bad stuff with my stepfather and I left the diner in the middle of my shift. Chad came after me, clearly worried. No one had worried about me for a very long time, but he hadn’t ever asked me out and I was afraid he just felt sorry for me. Like he had some kind of hero complex about saving damsels in distress. But I found out later he was worried about his job and my safety.”

My brows dip. “His job? What was his job?”

“He told me he did high profile consulting that required complete anonymity and confidentiality.”

“Meaning what?”

“I don’t know.”

I officially sympathize with how Tellar felt with me when I said the same thing to him. “You mean you married him and never knew what he did for a living?”

“I just thought it was a government security thing or something to that effect. New York has plenty of--”

“New York. Are you telling me my brother lived in New York?”

“Yes. A few blocks from you. He told me you were in a witness protection program.”

Witness protection? Was I? Could that be true? “Did he go by Chad?”

She shakes her head. “David Chad Wilson. He told me he preferred Chad, but his legal name was David. I didn’t know any differently until the night we moved you to Denver.”

“What happened that night?”

“He told me he was the reason you were in hiding, and...he told me about the fire.”

“Did he tell you who set it?”

“No names. He said his work had put him in the cross-hairs of some very rich, very powerful men, who thought he had something they wanted. I didn’t ask a lot of questions of Chad. It was simply part of being with him and at the time of his confessions he was in crisis mode to move you and us before it was too late. I figured I’d ask for more details when we were safe.”

“So he felt you were both in harm’s way, too?”

“Oh yes. And it was destroying him to think he’d put me in danger by marrying me, not that we were really married. He’d used an alias.”

Her voice cracks and guilt twists in me over how I’ve doubted her. “He had to. You know he had to.”

“Yes. I just wish he’d have told me. I love him. I do. I’d do anything for him. I’d die for him, Amy.”

I think of Liam’s words. Anyone who wants to hurt you has to come through me first. He’d die for me and I can’t let that happen. “No one else is going to die. I...my parents...”

“No.” Her voice is soft, reluctant. “They didn’t make it, honey. Chad had nightmares over their loss and he’d wake up screaming. And I don’t know what happened, but he went nuts when he needed to move you to Denver. He was terrified of losing you, too.”

My gut clenches. Did I cause all of this by taking the job at the museum?

 “I helped him get the note to you in the museum and set you up in Denver,” she continues. “We were going to do the same thing we did before and live near you, but we weren’t there long before he said he had to take a trip. He was supposed to be back in a day and he never returned. He just vanished. I didn’t know what to do. He’d set up certain things to help you and I only knew pieces of the puzzle to fit together for you and me. And he’d left me money, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I was trying to maintain your cover, but I didn’t fully understand.” She shakes her head. “I tried, Amy. I did, but I was scared and--”

I grab her hand, grateful for her help. “It’s okay. You did fine.” But nothing is making sense any more now than it has for six years and I feel like I’ve lost Chad in the same instant I’ve found him. “Are you sure Chad was kidnapped?”

“Yes. Absolutely. When you disappeared, I was confused. I started to think maybe Chad had simply left me. It was easier to deal with than thinking he was dead. I didn’t have a lot of money, but I went back to New York. It was the only link I had to you and Chad. I knew you’d been with Liam, so I took a job in the building next to his home and got to be friends with a waitress at one of the restaurants he frequented. People buzzed about him when he was in town, but he wasn’t there. You weren’t there. Looking back, I think me taking that job was a mistake. Either they already knew who I was and were watching me or they were watching Liam for you and found me because I was there. I don’t know. Something went wrong or right. Maybe it’s good because now we know he’s alive.”

“You still haven’t told me how we know he’s alive.”

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a 5 x 8 sealed envelope. My heart starts to race and acid burns my throat as I take it and lift the seal. Inside is a note and a small cellphone. I pull out the plain white note card and open it.

We have Chad. You have what we want. Get it for us or he dies. You have five days. Don’t make us kill him. We’ll be in touch.

The world is spinning again, spinning and spinning, and I can’t think. Adrenaline spikes in my blood and I can’t catch my breath.

“I don’t know what they want,” Meg says. “I don’t know. I had to get to you and I heard Liam was back in his house. I thought you could be there and you might know and --”

My gaze rockets to her. “You set Liam’s house on fire to get to me?”

“I read up about how to cause electrical fires that would be slow, and--”

“So you did it.”

“I had no option. I had to get you out if you were inside. You have to see that. You have to want to save Chad the way I do. Please understand. Please. I’m sorry.” Her bottom lips quivers and huge, trembling tears drip from her eyes. “I’m alone, too. He’s all I have. I have to save him.”

I start to shake all over and it’s like her tears are my tears, and they streak my cheeks. “He’s alive?”

“I hope so. I think so. He has to be.”

“He’s alive,” I repeat and suddenly we are hugging each other, both sobbing uncontrollably.

“Yes. He’s alive. I hope he’s alive. We have to keep him that way.”

“We will,” I vow. “We will.” And memories of Chad flood my mind and I find myself rejoicing in his life, and mourning my parents all over again.

How long we hold each other, two aching hearts, trying to survive, I do not know. But the vow to keep Chad alive is what burns inside me with as much heat as the fire that once almost stole him away. “We have to call Liam,” I say, pushing back from Meg and swiping at my eyes. “He can help. He will help and he has the resources to find Chad.”

“No. That’s why I had to get you out of there the way I did. I know you trust him, but Chad didn’t, Amy. He was freaking out about Liam. He’s got to be a part of this.”

“No. That makes no sense. He’s protected me.”

“Why? To gain your trust? To get answers? Think about it, Amy. How did you end up in first class going to Denver? And why was a billionaire on a commercial flight?”

I laugh, not flustered at all. “You don’t know Liam Stone.” I think of the one car in his garage. “He came from nothing and he skimps in areas other people wouldn’t.” And while I haven’t figured out fully why that is, it is, and that’s my answer.

“How did you get into first class?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Liam paid to get me there.”

“Exactly. Don’t you get it? Chad said he was trouble and we had to get him away from you.” She grabs my arms and her voice quakes as she insists, “Liam Stone is the enemy.”

Chapter Fifteen

Meg’s words hang in the air and she stares at me expectantly. I’m not sure what she expects me to say or do but I have a fleeting memory of the moment Liam had ripped the center of my dress with the dagger and I can almost feel the gentleness of his touch and kiss when we’d finally landed on the mattress. To me, Liam Stone is a man of infinite possibilities, but all of them still equate to one simple fact. He’s the man I love.

“We have to do this on our own,” Meg insists when I apparently don’t speak up soon enough.“We can’t trust anyone.”

“We don’t even know what they want…unless there’s something you haven’t told me.”

“You’re his sister. You have to know. Why else would he hide you like he did?”

Why? Is she serious? “I’m his sister who was barely eighteen when she listened to her family being burned alive. I was ushered into hiding with no explanations.”

She shakes her head, rejecting...what? My claim? The events? “You have to know what they want,” she insists.

“I don’t. Who was the man who met me outside the hospital? Surely he knows.”

“What man?”

Right. She met Chad years later. “Did you meet any of Chad’s friends?”

“He had no friends. I think that’s why we needed each other. He was alone. I was alone.”

My heart twists with how much her words remind me of me and Liam. “Looks like we’re starting from scratch, and that isn’t a good thing. I’ve spent six years trying to put together a puzzle without pieces. Now we have five days.”

“Four days. Now we have four. What are we going to do? We have to figure it out.” Her voice rises and she’s starting to sound hysterical. “They think I know what they want. I don’t know. I thought you’d know. What do we do, Amy?”

Call Liam, I think, but she’s so off the deep end I don’t dare press to involve him. I grab her arms this time, leveling her in a stare. “We’ll be okay.” I nearly cringe at the words I’ve forbidden Liam from saying to me. “We’ll figure it out.”

She inhales and lets it out on a choppy nod. The attendant passes and I release her to grab him, eager for a blanket. “Fifteen dollars for a blanket and pillow,” the uniformed man informs me.

I feel myself pale and some of the bravado of seconds before fades. I have no money, no phone, no resources.

“I got it,” Meg offers quickly and pays the man for a pillow and blanket for each of us.

Unwrapping mine, I snuggle beneath it, and remind myself that one phone call to Liam, and my situation changes. I’m choosing to give away control, and that is control, as he would say. My confidence returns.“What’s the plan once we get to your car?”

“We don’t have one.”

Wonderful. Terrific. “Do you have money? Can we get a cheap motel?”

“Yes. I have enough.”

“Albany isn’t a huge place and it’s a logical location to get off the train from what I could tell from looking at the destinations in the train station. Believe me when I say I’ve learned the hard way that logical choices are dangerous. We should pick a large metropolitan city outside of New York and then stop to rest.”

“Yes. Okay.”

Now she has the “okay” disease. It’s almost as bad as the “do nothing” disease I’ve lived for six years. I sink back into the seat.

“So what’s the closest big city?”

“Philadelphia, maybe.” She frowns. “It’s kind of backtracking so that might be smart. But really why hide out? They’ve found us already and they have Chad.”

“What happens when they decide they don’t need us but we know too much?” I ask.

“Right. Big city it is.” She takes out her phone and checks the internet. “Philly is less than four hours.”

“Philly it is then,” I agree.

I settle my pillow under my head. “We should try to sleep. It’s still a long drive on no rest.”

She hugs me. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Inching backwards, she tilts her head and drags her hand down my long, blonde hair. “You’re beautiful like he was.”

Discomfort ticks down my spine and I manage an awkward, “Thank you, we should rest.”

She nods and shrinks down in her seat.

I roll to my side, giving her my back and I cannot shake her choice of words. As beautiful as he was.

* * *

It’s several hours later when we exit the train station and reach Meg’s expensive grass-green Volvo. “Chad bought it for me,” she says, reading the question in my eyes.

“Nice choice,” I murmur, but as I settle into the plush leather seat, thankful for the seat warmers, the car bothers me. I was barely surviving most of the time and Chad paid cash for her Volvo, and he had to pay to park in Manhattan. It doesn’t feel right, but then Chad couldn’t just hand me extra money. It would have brought attention to him and me.

With my driving time coming up, I can feel the heaviness of exhaustion in my body, and I close my eyes, willing myself to rest since I hadn’t on the train. I have to consider my health and I need a clear mind to decide what to do next. Four days is all I have left to discover what has been a six year mystery. And even if I do, it won’t be as simple as figuring out what these people want. It’s figuring out how we get these people what they want and how not to get killed in the process. I wonder why in Meg’s panic she hasn’t thought of this.

I will an image of Chad to my mind and a smile curls on my lips when I can clearly see his face. Chad...

I wave goodbye to my best friend Dana as she pulls her Volkswagen out of the drive and I run up the stairs, stopping dead in my tracks on the top step, my eyes going wide at the sight of Chad sitting in the corner on one of the two outdoor chairs.

“Chad!” I rush him and he’s on his feet at the same instant I fling myself around him. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He’s been away forever it seems, first at college and then in Egypt. “Is Dad with you?”

“Yeah, but you know, he and Mom have to catch up.” He wiggles a brow. “At least they have a door. Those tent sessions they used to have could get awkward.”

I laugh and we settle into the seats. He kisses my head. “How’s school?”

“Miserable,” I confess. “I want to be in the field with you and Dad. So does Mom.”

“Finish school. It’s good for you.”

“You left college.”

“Dad needed me in the field and I didn’t leave. I’m working for school credit and you know I have windows of time when I’m in class.”

“Right. I guess.”

He sighs.“How’s Luke?”

“He took off to college in Austin.”

“Good thing I’m not there much. Don’t like the way the bastard looks at you. He’s lucky I don’t beat his ass.”

A hotspot forms in my chest. I’ve missed how he protects me. I miss our family. “Why do you hate him so much?”

“He’s a user, known for bed-hopping and then bragging afterwards. I don’t want you becoming a conquest.”

“Like you don’t bed-hop.”

“Out of necessity and because I’m not a one woman kind of man. I don’t live a life that supports a girlfriend, but I don’t brag and I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

Because he’s a goodbye waiting to happen. “When do you leave again?”

“Two days.”

The hotspot is now an ache. Two days. “Oh.”

“We’ll be back for your eighteenth birthday.”

In six months. I guess I’m supposed to cheer up now.

A loud sound jolts me and I sit up. “What happened?”

“We need gas,” Meg announces, and I glance around to find we’re at a gas station and her door is open. “You’ve been asleep about an hour.”

“Asleep,” I repeat, and frown with Luke’s name in my head. Luke. I know why I dreamed of my brother, but why does Luke keep showing up in my dreams? At least they are dreams, not flashbacks with blackouts, I remind myself.

“Want anything from inside?” Meg asks.

My stomach rumbles. “I need a snack, but I think I’ll go to the bathroom.”

“Just get whatever you want and put it at the register.” She climbs out of the car and shuts the door.

Grabbing my purse, I go still with a memory. My fake boss in Denver was named Luke. My fist balls over my racing heart. Chad had been trying to tell me he was alive. Don’t like the way the bastard looks at you. He’s lucky I don’t beat his ass. No. Chad, being bossy, macho Chad, had been trying to tell me he was about to beat Liam’s ass.

“Damn it,” I whisper. “He’s not the enemy.”

Shoving open the door and shivering against the cold, I glance at Meg over the hood. “I’m freezing. I really need clothes and a coat of some sort to make it the next few days.”

“Oh gosh, yes. I’m sorry.” She pops the trunk and opens it, displaying a couple of suitcases, unzipping one and handing me a jacket with a hood. “We can grab you some stuff on the road, too.”

I nod and slip on the jacket. “Any idea why Chad would have put a camera in the computer you gave me to use back in Denver?”

She snorts and shuts the trunk. “Yeah. He didn’t trust Liam Stone. He was determined to find a connection between him and the men he was in trouble with.”

I was right. The name Luke had been no accident, but it’s just creepy thinking my brother would tape me. What if he’d seen Liam and I having sex? Did he? The thought is choke-worthy. I refocus on Meg. “Did Chad find a connection to Liam?”

“No. Not before he...you know. I’m shocked you found out about the camera. He was confident you wouldn’t.”

I don’t say anything and I’m confused by how she claims to not know anything about how Chad had set up my living situation, and yet she knows so much. My gaze lifts to the store and it hits me that I can call Liam and tell him I’m okay. I need to hear his voice. I think he needs to hear mine.

I motion to the door and start walking when Meg calls out, “Amy.” Turning I tilt my head in silent question and she says, “Either he’s one of them and he’ll kill us the minute he has what he wants, or he’s not, and they’ll kill him for getting involved.”

Suddenly the ice in my blood is far colder than the winter air chilling my bones. I don’t reply. She’s right. I can’t involve him. I have to let that idea go. I give her a choppy nod and start walking, and it hits me that I was wrong. She has thought about what happens when and if we hand over whatever these people want from us.

Inside the store, I find the bathroom, where I lock the door and let air rush out of my lungs. Think, Amy. Think. But nothing comes to me. I have no plan. I walk to the sink and the girl in the mirror is a horror show of puffy eyes, no makeup, and witchy blonde hair. My hand flattens on my belly where my reason to survive above all else rests. I’m going to figure out an answer. I just have no idea how.

Wanting the comfort the gun offers, I flip open my purse, and instead stare at the contents: a makeup bag that I unzip to find well-stocked, a brush, hairspray and a wallet. If the make up bag is stocked....I grab the wallet and flip it open, to stare at the wad of cash inside and the black American Express Liam had once given me and I’d discarded, that he’s replaced. Liam has made sure I was taken care of and then some.

Without a bra to tuck the cash into, I take off my shoes and distribute it between them. I hold the credit card in my hand and I’m certain it’s being monitored. One swipe at a register would tell Liam where I’m at, but Meg’s warning rolls through my head. They’ll kill him. It’s not the first time she’s said it. I’m convinced that at least part of her story is true. And of Chad being alive. I believe he’s alive. One swipe of the credit card and I know Liam will be alerted to where I am. I stick the credit card in my shoe, my dire emergency plan, and my way to reach Liam when I’m ready. Which will be when I know he won’t end up dead like everyone else in my life.

Meg is at the register when I exit and I gather a couple of protein bars and some fruit. We are just settling into the car when Meg’s phone rings. Her eyes go wide, terror in their depths. “My purse.” She starts scrambling for it. “Where is it? That’s the phone. That’s the one they gave me.”

My heart jackhammers and I search behind us and on the floorboard, grabbing it and handing it to Meg. The phone stops ringing.

“No!” Meg shouts and hits the steering wheel, her head dropping onto it, her long hair draped over her face.

“Try to call it back,” I urge, wondering why I doubt someone this distraught, but I do.

She lifts her head, tears streaking her cheeks. “Been there, done that. It doesn’t work.”

The phone beeps with a text and she glances down and goes even paler than she already is. “What is it?” I whisper, barely able to breathe.

She hands me the phone and I read the message, my blood running cold. You’re wasting time that Chad doesn’t have in gas stations and highways. Get on a damn plane and get me what I want or your lover boy is dead.  

Meg turns to me and grabs my arm, her fingers pinching into my flesh. “What do we do? What the hell do we do?”

There is one answer and it is both right and wrong in every way. We go to Texas, where this started and deep down, I’ve always known it will end. Liam will find me there, though, and it’s clear we’re being watched. But I’ve warned him he’s in danger. He’ll play it cautious, and watch me from a distance like they, whoever they are, seem to be doing. I might even be safer for that reason. He won’t charge into Jasmine Heights and claim me as his. Who am I kidding? This is Liam Stone I’m talking about. Yes. Yes, he will. And these people I’m dealing with have killed before. They’ll kill again. They’ll kill him if I don’t find a way to protect him.

Meg grabs my arm. “Amy. Please. What do we do?”

“We go to a cheap hotel where we shower, change, eat real food, and sleep at least two hours. Then we figure it out.”

“We should figure it out now.”

“No, we don’t. We need to figure it out right. The wrong move and people die.” And no one else is dying on me. That’s the only “The End” I’ll accept.

Chapter Sixteen

Three hours later, we’re back on the road and pulling into the airport after sleeping for a couple of hours and showering. I’ve borrowed a bra that’s a size too big, a pink tank top, jeans, and a jacket from Meg, and I at least feel a little human.

Meg parks her Volvo in the long-term section of the Philly airport, and hangs up the phone after calling the airline. “We’re good. The flight that leaves in thirty minutes is still under-booked.”

“How under-booked?”

“Thirty percent.”

“That’s perfect. We can buy a ticket at the gate right now and get a seat.”

“Liam Stone has money and power. He’s still going to be able to see you used your ID for the flight.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I’m right.”

Yes. She is. “That’s why I have to distract him. I assume that phone you’re using is under an alias since you helped Chad relocate me?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Then I need to use it to call Liam.”

Her eyes go wide. “What? Are you crazy?”

“I’m going to convince him I’m in Denver and on the run. He’ll get everyone working for him focused on finding me there. It won’t keep him away forever, but maybe it will be long enough for me to figure this all out.” She doesn’t look overjoyed. I’m sure not. “It’s the closest thing to a solution we have.”

She hands me the phone. “You have to make him believe you’re in danger.”

I take it and turn away. “I know.” And I dread this clear to my soul. I take a moment to think of my story, then punch in the number I’m thankful I still remember. He answers almost immediately and how he knows it’s me, I don’t know, but he says, “Amy?”

The dark, gravelly richness of his voice ripples down my spine and I can barely breathe.

“Amy? Is that you, baby? I need to hear your voice. Tell me it’s you.”

The desperation and worry in his voice rips through me like a blade. “I can’t talk,” I whisper. “I snuck a phone. I’m in Denver. I...oh God. They’re coming. I...Denver, Liam. I don’t know where, and--” I hang up and drop my head to the seat, biting my bottom lip and willing myself not to cry. A horrible knotting sensation in my stomach starts and I pop the door open and get sick.

 “Amy. Oh God. Amy are you okay?” Meg shoves some kind of fast food napkin at me and I take it, wipe my mouth, and grab the navy jacket she’s given me and my purse. “Let’s go before we miss this flight.”

* * *

Once we are inside the airport, Meg and I head to the bathroom, but the minute she’s in the stall, I dart away and find a locker to store my gun inside. It kills me to leave the security it offers behind but I’m without an option. She is, of course, frantic when she finds me but I soothe her by telling her I was looking for a Ginger Ale for my stomach, and she helps me locate a Sprite instead.

Now, I’m unarmed and on a plane headed to what I am certain is danger. I spend the first hour of the flight dozing off and on with Liam’s voice in my head. Is that you, baby?I need to hear your voice. I love him. I love the way he calls me baby. I love that he cares this much and I hate what I did to him on that call. I hate it so much.

Somehow, I force down the snack that is served, and sleep afterwards. I wake to my hand hitting a stack of pictures Meg has set on my lap. I can barely swallow as I look at shots of Chad.There’s one of him laughing and there are fine lines by his eyes that didn’t used to be there. This is a recent shot, the six years showing in his face. He looks older, more mature, a fully developed man like Liam. And amazingly, now that I see Chad’s face, I can look at other moments in my mind and see him clearly.

I touch the photo, wishing I could touch him, praying I will hug my big brother, who I thought buried beneath fire and pain. This photo feeds the hope in me. Another of him on a motorcycle. My mind replays the many times I’d seen him on one in Egypt. One more of him with Meg, his arm around her shoulder. I study it and try to see the spark between them that I know people must see between me and Liam, but it’s just not there. Maybe if he was looking at her, I’d see it.

The announcements for landing begin and I glance at Meg. “Thank you.”

“You can keep them. I have more.”

“Thank you.” I tuck the photos into my purse when I’d really like to study them longer, but I need to mentally prepare myself for what might be waiting at the gate when we land, or rather, who.

By the time we exit the plane at the terminal, I’m a ball of nerves and Meg holding on to my arm like she’s afraid someone will grab me and run, doesn’t help at all. Clearing the walkway, I scan the crowd, and a mix of disappointment and relief washes over me when my big, bossy, lovable man is nowhere to be found. “So far so good,” Meg murmurs. “Let’s hope that means your plan worked.”

“Yes,” I agree. “Let’s hope.” And I do hope. This is a miserable way to operate but it’s about protecting both Chad and Liam, the two men in my life I am blessed to have alive and well. Moving through the airport to the rental cars, despite all the reasons Liam’s absence is a good thing, I crave that sense of awareness I have when he’s nearby, that odd prickling of my skin and the singing of my soul that he creates. But it doesn’t come. He does not come.

By the time we exit the rental van to pick up our car, the warm Texas November has me tying my jacket at my waist, and fairly confident that we aren’t looking at any roadblocks of the Liam Stone nature. Once we’re settled in some sort of gray Dodge, we pull onto I-35 for the two hour drive to Jasmine Heights. I sink down into the seat and ball my fists on my legs. I’m going to face the Godzillas of my past without Liam.

“At least it’s a short drive,” Meg comments. “Thirty minutes according to the GPS.” She pauses and I feel her look at me. “You okay?”

I don’t look at her. “Yes.”

She’s quiet a moment. I want her to stay that way. She doesn’t. “You think they’ll kill him if we don’t jar your memory in Jasmine Heights?”

A vise-like sensation tightens around my windpipe. I force out air to reply. “I think they’ll hurt him or someone else I care about.”

“Like Liam.”

“Yes,” I agree, and the word is lead on my tongue. “Like Liam.”

We fall into blessed silence, and I stare straight ahead, willing myself to be calm and collected, terrified the answer to all of this isn’t in my head, or if it is, I won’t remember it in time to save Chad and Liam. My brother has to be alive and he has to stay that way. I can’t lose the brother I just found again and I can’t lose the man who has brought me back to life. But my track record of love and loss is terrifying.

“Jasmine Heights city limits,” Meg announces and I sit up straight, staring at the sign I thought I’d never see again. She asks, “Any hotel preference?”

“I don’t know.” I don’t care. “Stay on this road and take the Snyder exit.”

“Sure. You know this place. I don’t.”

I direct her to the exit and through several twists and turns. “Here,” I say at the final turn and frown at the shopping center at the edge of my old neighborhood. I point to the residential street.

“This isn’t a hotel.”

“No. It’s my old house.”

“Where?”

Where, is right. It’s now a restaurant. My house is a restaurant. “Pull into the driveway.”

“Shouldn’t we get a motel first?”

“Pull in, Meg,” I bite out.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll pull in.”

She parks in the front row to the right of the door. I stare at the fancy red and white brick building with a big sign that reads “Red Heaven Restaurant.” The irony of the word “heaven” does not escape me. Though the population of this city has grown from ten thousand to nearly twenty since I was last here, it was, and is, still small enough that everyone knows what happened here.

“Red Heaven,” I whisper.

“I’m not sure what kind of food it is,” Meg says. “Did you want to go in and see?”

I think about the fact that some patron or patrons are sitting at a table that might well be the same spot my mother screamed while she burned alive. “Evil,” I say.

“What? The food is evil? That’s a new one.”

I don’t speak to her. I can’t speak to her. My gaze travels over the building again and goes back to the sign. It’s an insult. A battle cry and a threat. I expect pain, and a flashback that takes me down. Instead, there is a burn in my chest and tension in my shoulders. My jaw clenches and I shove open the car door.

“I guess we’re going to eat evil food,” Meg mumbles and I ignore her, charging for the door.

I grab my purse and on the way to the door, fix it cross body over my chest. Pushing open the doorway, I’m in a homey restaurant with hardwood floors and wooden tables with comfy chairs. Homey being the operative word. Like the home it once was.

“Who owns this place?” I ask the twenty-something girl behind the wooden hostess stand before she can speak. And God, I think she’s the kid I use to babysit a few blocks from here.

Her dark brown brows dip. “Do I know you?”

“No. You don’t know me. I need the name of the owner.”

“Sheridan Smith. He owns everything around here.”

So Derek had said. “Do you have a business card for him?”

“The manager might. She’s behind the bar right now.”

“Did we get a table?” Meg asks.

A shiver of unease slides down my spine and the source seems to be Meg. Aware that my nerves are jumping and my mood is suited for a tornadic event, I don’t try to understand it. “I’m going to the bathroom.” I start walking, praying she won’t follow. I intend to head to the bar and I do not want Meg to be a part of this.

Frustrated, I follow the bathroom sign and push open the door, thankful it’s made for one. Turning to lock up, I never get the chance. A man shoves into the door and shuts it behind him, giving me his back, his long, light brown hair tied at the nape, while he locks the door himself.

My heart races and my hand goes to my purse, but he’s turned before I can make a move, and where I’d once thought him rugged bad-boy hotness, I know better now. He’s danger in a way Liam never was.

I clutch the strap of my purse. “What are you doing here, Jared?”

“I have a message from Chad.”

I blanch, but for some reason I’m not as shocked as I think I should be. I think I always knew Jared was more than just my next door neighbor in Denver. “Let me see your tattoo.”

“I’m not a part of your brother’s Underground Society, but I think the message will clear up the trust issues.” He holds up his phone and sets it on the counter, then pushes play.

Jared, it’s Chad.

At the sound of my brother’s voice, my hand leaves my purse and my back hits the wall, the air gushing from my lungs. Tears burn my eyes. He’s alive. Deep down, a part of me hadn’t allowed myself to really believe it could be true.

You were right on the ping on Lara, the voicemail continues, I moved her to Denver as we’d planned but there’s trouble. I have to make arrangements. I need you to come here and look out for her for a couple of weeks. Fuck. I have to go. I need you here. I have to protect my fucking sister, man.

And there it is. Proof Chad has been alive all these years and an explanation as to why Jared felt so familiar. On some soul-deep level, I think that Chad must be that odd attachment I felt to Jared in Denver. I felt a bond with him to my brother. “Tell me I haven’t lost him before I find him again.” My voice quakes, the fear digging a hole in my already bleeding heart.

“I don’t know where he is, but I promise you, I’m trying my damnedest to find him.”

“Not the answer I want.” My throat is raw and scratchy.

“It’s the only one I have to give.”

I hate that reply as much as Liam must have when I used it on him. “What did he mean by ping?”

“I’m what you might call a tech expert—”

“Might?”

“I’m a hacker, legit now, but I wasn’t always. I use those skills to monitor internet chatter that involves you or your brother and set up pings or notifications if a match occurred. I wasn’t the only one watching you. You went to work at the museum and someone had a wide search that fit the profile of your employment which triggered my pings.”

“So I did this? I made this hell start all over?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I know I’m responsible.

“No. You didn’t do this. Chad did this, but I think you know that.”

“Know this? I know nothing. Nothing. I am living on the run and I didn’t even know what you knew, that my own brother was alive.”

Suddenly I’m against the wall and his hands are by my head. “Shhh. You have to be quiet.”

“I have to do a lot of things. Hide. Change my name. Lie. I have to lie a lot. Don’t lie to me, Jared.”

“Sweetheart--”

“And don’t call me sweetheart, or Lara for that matter. I’m Amy and I’m staying Amy and you’d better not be here to tell me I’m Mary or Casey or Sandy. I’m Amy.”

He stares at me for several beats and says, “Amy. I didn’t come to change your name. I came to save your life and I hope like hell, Chad’s, while I’m at it.”

“How do you even know him? Why do you care?”

He pushes off the wall, leans on the sink, his face turning all hard lines and shadows, like he doesn’t like the story he has to tell. “Back when we were at UT together, my sister was dying of cancer and the insurance wasn’t paying for all of the treatments. I can hack. I told you that, and I’m damn good at it. I started doing it for money and Chad knew. What I didn’t know was that he was in deep with some powerful rich assholes, doing some of his own dirty work.”

“What kind of dirty work?”

“Oil guys is all I know. Your dad got involved and got nervous. Chad took over and formed his Underground of followers. I had a sister who had no one but me. I didn’t want to know more and he didn’t offer.”

My stomach roils with the memory of the stranger handing my father the envelope. I believe what Jared’s saying. It adds up and it feels right.

“Chad needed a job done,” he continues. “And it paid four times any job I’d done and  I was getting paid well. He knew I’d keep my mouth shut and I trusted him to keep me out of his loop of people.” His voice tightens. “My sister had five more years because I did that job and Chad and I lost contact. Until the fire. He needed to make you both disappear, and like your brother did my sister, I became your guardian angel and back-up plan.”

“And the man who brought me the paperwork and money to disappear with?”

“No idea. I just created your identity.”

“And Meg?”

“Yes. And Meg.” His voice bites on her name.

“She says she’s Chad’s wife.”

He snorts. “Yeah well, I never heard about a wife. Granted I’ve talked to him all of three times in six years, but I also didn’t hear him asking me to protect his wife on that message. And Chad was a lot of things, but he isn’t someone to turn his back on responsibility, even if love was gone. He’s a man’s man. He’d protect those who count on him to the death.”

“Yes. Yes, he would.”

“I also don’t think Meg would be sticking her tongue down some guy’s throat when she thinks her husband is missing now either, would you?”

“What? What guy?”

He punches a button on his phone and hands it to me, the display showing a photo of  her in an embrace with a man twenty-plus years older than her. And I don’t need a forward shot to know that he’s the same man who’d been cuddling up to my mother and arguing with my father. “Who is he?” I look at him. “Who is he?”

“You’ve seen him before.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah. Arguing with my father, then my brother, and sticking his tongue down my mother’s throat.”

His gaze sharpens. “Sounds like we have a lot to chat with Meg about, doesn't it?”

“Yes, we do.” But I barely get the declaration out for the splintering in my brain. I sway and Jared closes the distance between us and grabs me. “Whoa. Easy there, sweetheart. You okay?”

“God, I hate that word.” I suck in a breath, resting my head on his chest and curling my fingers around his shirt. “But yes. Okay. Give me...a minute. Or...two...”  Prickling begins in my head and I both welcome it for the memory I need to embrace and curse the timing.

“Amy?”

At the sound of Meg’s voice, my head jerks up, sending shooting pain through my skull and I blink into Jared’s worried light brown eyes. He presses his fingers to my mouth, giving me a silent warning.

I nod, my mind racing. “Yes,” I call out. “I’m fine. I’m sick again. Can you get me a Sprite or something, please?”

“Oh. Sure. Be right back.” Footsteps sound and fade.

His hands close on my shoulders, too intimate, too like the way only Liam should, but not exactly wrong without being right. “We need to move now,” he says. “Are you able to?”

“I’m fine. It’s just--”

“Blood sugar,” he supplies, reminding me of the excuse I’ve used with him in the past. “Right. Heard that before. The only reason I haven’t grabbed Meg and dragged her someplace and forced the bitch to talk was that I wanted to talk to you first. I needed you to trust me. And as much as I don’t want you with that woman any longer than you have to be, we need to get her alone where I can flex my substantial ability to be influential when I want to be. Go with her to a hotel. I’ll follow.”

“And then?”

“We get answers to where the hell Chad is.”

“You think she knows?”

“She seems to know a hell of a lot more than either of us.”

“Yes, she does,” I say bitterly, and the idea that Meg has played a role in hurting my brother seems to have shaken my flashback completely, leaving me with one goal on my mind. Exposing what’s in her head, not mine.

“The sooner we do this, the better,” I say, and he steps away from me, leaving me suddenly aware that his legs have been pressed way too snugly against mine.

He knows too. It’s in the air around us, wrapping us in an awareness that has me cutting my gaze and turning to the door. His hand comes down on my shoulder, and I do not feel the liquid heat Liam’s touch creates in me, but I feel warmth and strength. “If you feel threatened at all, get the hell away from her. I’ll have your back. Like Chad had mine.”

Emotion I can’t afford to feel wells in my chest and I reach for the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. I inhale and exit, leaving my new “protector” behind, and he is that. I don’t doubt it. Jared. I never did. I enter the restaurant, scanning for Meg, but I don’t see her. The front door opens and shuts and I take off running. Bursting through the doors, I have just enough time to see the rental car disappear down the drive.

A white truck pulls up next to me and the passenger door pops open. “Get in,” Jared orders.

Rushing forward, I climb inside, but it’s too late. Meg is gone, like my brother, and Jared is driving us I don’t know where.

Chapter Seventeen

“Now, what?” I ask as Jared pulls the rental truck onto the main road.

“Now we regroup,” he replies, and I can feel the probing look he gives me though his eyes should be on the road. “How did you end up with Meg?”

“How did you find me?”

“I hacked my way to nothing and clearly you dumped your cell phone because it wouldn’t ping so—”

“You had my cellphone pinged?”

“Hacker, sweetheart. Of course I did.”

“But it wasn’t in my name.”

“I saw Liam take you into the cellphone store. I added two and two, hacked the system, and got a lock on it.”

I remember the mysterious call I’d received. “You called my cellphone?”

“Liam had several lines. I had to make sure it was you.”

“You scared the crap out of me.”

“Not my intent. I have to use my tech resources to compensate for working on my own. And speaking of scaring the crap out of someone. What the hell were you thinking using the Amy Bensen ID? That’s how I found you, and I guarantee you it’s how others will, too.”

I don’t explain. I’m not done asking questions. “And you got here this fast how?”

“I was back in Texas already.”

“And Meg? Where has she been?”

“Disappeared when you did.” He pulls into a motel parking lot a few blocks from the restaurant that used to be my home. “And this is not Liam Stone quality, but it has beds.”

I grimace at the disdain in his voice when he says Liam’s name, and as much as I trust and love Liam, my brother’s worry over him worries me. “What’s your problem with Liam Stone?”

“Money. Money, and let me think. Oh yeah. More money.”

“Money’s a problem why?” I ask, despite money being exactly what has worried me about Liam in the past.

“Chad was in bed with an enemy with bucket-loads of money. Liam has bucket-loads of money and those people don’t grow on trees any more than the green stuff does. It’s a common denominator and it’s dangerous.”

“He’s not dangerous to me or my brother. He is dangerous to anyone who tries to hurt me.”

“If you trust him, then why leave him behind in Denver?”

“How do you know I wasn’t with him?”

“Hacking has a broad reach. He was looking for you just like I was.”

“I got spooked.”

“Stay spooked. It’s safer where he’s concerned. And he’s going to get that same ID flag I did. If I’m right about him, and he’s in this mess up to his neck, he’s going to come for you and we’re going to need a plan for him in this and soon.”

He clearly doesn’t know I’d reunited with Liam and I’m not telling him. “Did my brother say Liam was a part of this?”

“I’d love to lie and get you the hell out from under Liam’s spell. I thought you were out from under it, but you clearly aren’t. But you were right when you said you’ve lived enough lies. I haven’t had any conversations with your brother about Liam Stone, but I don’t like that when I got to Denver, Chad wasn’t there and Liam was.”

“Then do you have one piece of information in all your hacking or otherwise that says he is?”

“No, but--”

“No,” I supply. “That’s the answer. And yes, he has money. That isn’t a sin.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know you. I’m with you because my brother trusts you.”

“If Liam Stone wants whatever Chad has, he will come for you. If Liam Stone wants you, he will come for you. Either way, we have Liam Stone to deal with. And Meg, who you still haven’t told me how you ended up with.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw and sighs. “Right now we need to get inside where we’ll feel safer. I’m going in to register and I’d rather you not be seen, but I also don’t want you sitting here unprotected.” He reaches across me, his arm touching my leg as he opens the glove compartment and then slaps a gun on the seat between us. “I’ll be as quick as I can.  I know you know how to shoot. Chad talked about you a lot. It’s loaded, so lock up until I get back and shoot anyone who isn’t me that tries to get in the truck. I’d say include Liam Stone, but somehow, I don’t think you’d listen.”

He starts to leave and I call, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll take off?”

“You want to save your brother. I want to save your brother. No. I don’t think you’ll take off.”

I open my mouth to reply but he’s gone before I can stop him, leaving me wondering what he has to show me, but then, I’m certain that was his intent. I watch him enter the motel, all loose-legged swagger and bad boy confidence, a different kind of male grace than Liam’s, but still wholly male, still a demanding presence. Though he looks nothing like Chad, he reminds me of him, and I can see them as friends.

Nervous about needing the gun he’s left me, I settle it in my lap, check for the safety, and spend the next five minutes scanning the area, intermittently eying Jared through the glass at the counter. I’m surprised to be calm and unemotional. I’m in that zone I use to use to survive. It used to be my comfort zone, a place I escaped the darkness of my fear, but it’s now an icy hollow place I do not want to visit.

In only a few minutes, Jared saunters back toward me and climbs into the truck, surprising me by reaching for the gun in my lap, covering my hand holding it with his.

Our eyes meet and I can see the heat in his and I’m not sure why. I’m a mess, barely showered and...I just don’t get it, but I’m hoping it’s not going to be a problem. “I’ll let you keep it on one condition,” he negotiates.

“Condition?”

“You have to promise not to use it on me.”

“Haven’t considered that just yet.”

He chuckles and releases the gun to start the engine. “Guess I’m doing something right then. Put it in your purse. I’ll feel better if you're armed. We’re around the back of the building. I didn’t want us to be seen and the faster we get inside and stay inside, the better.”

Ah, I think. The familiar drill and supposed brilliance that everyone thinks is the hermit strategy. Until there’s a fire. It’s a horrible thought and I cut my gaze to the window, thinking of that damn sign “Red Heaven Restaurant.”  Maybe it’s a tribute, not a slap, but Sheridan is into oil and thanks to Jared I now know my family was, too.

Jared opens his door and I blink to realize he’s killed the engine and we’ve arrived at our building. I quickly place the gun in my purse and follow him outside, surprised at how little anxiety I feel with Jared, considering the motel. But he knows my brother, and I hunger to hear more about Chad, even more so, I crave the moment I can hug my brother again.

By the time I read the number on the chipped, powder blue door, Jared is already swiping the key. He motions me forward and I enter to a musty smell that I dismiss with the relief of finding two beds that seem to support my trust in Jared. Or maybe it’s all the place had, but I’m going to go with my instincts.

Jared shuts the door behind me and locks it, and I turn to watch him. He unzips his bag and sets a gun on the bed. Now, I’m nervous and my heart lurches, my eyes meeting his. “If anyone comes in that door,” he explains, motioning to the gun, “they meet Berta. And she’s a bitch to swallow.”

“Well then I’m glad to meet her,” I say, though she isn’t any more comforting than his obvious thought that we need her.

His eyes soften, his voice turning all silky and gentle. “Why don’t you join me so we can talk.”

I nod and claim the opposite bed, and we sit with the nightstand separating us, knees a foot apart. He stares at me and doesn’t speak and I do not like the sympathy etched in his brown eyes. “What? Whatever you’re hanging on to and not saying, just say it. You’re scaring me again.”

“I could sit here and weed through how you got with Meg and what you’ve been through but I’m just going to get right to what matters. Four days after I got the message from your brother, I got a second call from him. This time, I answered in time to talk to him.”

Adrenaline pours through me. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“It wasn’t the right time.”

I’m pretty sure that means I’m not going to like what is coming. “And?” I prod anxiously.

“I’m going to shoot straight with you because I think it’s the only way you can make a clear decision about what comes next.”

I clutch the blanket on the bed. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Chad was urgent and whispering on the call, clearly hiding. He said…” He hesitates, a muscle flexing in his whisker-dusted jaw.

“He said what?” I demand.

“He said he wasn’t going to make it through the night and all he cared about was you.”

“No. No. That can’t be. You said--”

“I haven’t given up hope on him. He was calling me to ensure you survived. He’s a survivor too, though, Amy. We will fight for him. I promise you.”

Hope is my enemy. It’s worse than lies. It promises and it takes back. It teases and it rips my heart out. “What else did he say?”

 “He told me he left you instructions to protect yourself and 111 is the way to do it, whatever that means.”

“111,” I murmur and at first I think of the locker number at JFK where he’d left me a note but another memory surfaces. He and I had been at a dig site in Egypt, alone in a tent, hanging out as we often did, and Chad was stuffing pieces of paper he’d written on in an old wine bottle.

“What is it?” I’d asked.

“One hundred reasons why and eleven assholes.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing I ever want you to understand.”

“You know what it means?”

“It’s his lucky number,” I say, and know what it means and where to find it. “He used it for a lot of things. What else?”

“He told me to tell you he’s sorry this hell happened and he knows you can never forgive him, but he loves you.That was it,” he adds. “The line went dead.”

My breath hitches and I lower my head, pressing my hand to my forehead. I’ve lost him before I ever found him again. No. No. No. I push to my feet and start for the door. Jared grabs my arm. “Whoa. Where are you going?”

“They have my brother. They gave me four days to get them what they want or they’ll kill him. Maybe 111 is what they want. I have to go now.”

“You know what he was telling you with 111?”

“Yes.” I tug on my arm. “I need to go. We need to go now.”

He doesn’t budge. “Who is ‘they’ and how did ‘they’ contact you?”

“I don’t know who ‘they’ are. The man in the photo. Oil people. The Underground. It could be any of them but right now I don’t even care. I just want to know what 111 tells me before they kill him.”

“How do you know they plan to kill him?”

“Meg. She showed me a note and a text message. That’s how she got me to go with her. That’s why I used the ID. There was no time to travel and I had no resources for a new one. I have to figure out what they want.”

“We need to think before we act. They’ll be watching. They could take whatever you’re after from you and kill him.”

“If they haven’t already.”

“They won’t kill him if they think he’s the way to motivate you to give them what they want. And they won’t kill you if they think you know what that is. Chad isn’t a fool. He’s knows how to spin information.”

I shove his chest. “We can’t just stand here. What I’m thinking of might not even be what they want. I have to get it. There’s no time.”

“I just told you. They aren’t going to kill him if they think you have what they want.”

“You don’t even know who ‘they’ are or what they want so you can’t be sure.”

A knock sounds on the door and Liam’s voice follows. “Amy.”

My heart lurches, and a mix of dread and absolute happiness fill me but Jared pulls me to him, keeping me grounded in the reality of my life and the hell I live in. “What ‘they’ might do is kill lover boy out there as an example and leave Chad alive. Get rid of him. Tell him you’re fucking me. Tell him that you used him for money to save your brother. Whatever you have to say, you get rid of him. And if you can’t, be worried he’s one of them. Understand?”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right.”

He studies me a moment, his stare probing, then sets me away from him, reaching for Berta. “Why do you need that?”

“Amy, damn it, open up,” Liam shouts.

Jared ignores the demand and answers me, “Making sure neither of us end up dead,” he replies, walking toward the door. There’s a grace and comfort to the way he handles the weapon that says experience. Lots of experience. He is far more than a hacker and I suddenly want to warn Liam.

I turn for my purse, intending to reach for my weapon, but I never get the chance. Jared unlocks the door and it bursts open. Tellar stalks into the room, and his empty shoulder holster is resting over his t-shirt and jeans, his gun pointed at Jared.

I blink and Tellar and Jared are split at the foot of each bed, both stiff-armed and pointing weapons at each other. Watching them, I back against the nightstand but then Liam steps into the room, and I see no one but him. In distressed jeans and a pale blue t-shirt, he oozes exactly what he did the first night I met him. Money, power, sexy, but he is so much more to me now. He is compassion, trust...love.

His eyes land on me, and I see the terror he has felt for me and the relief that washes over him that I am here and safe. He steps toward me and I start for him. That’s when Jared shouts, “Go anywhere near her and I’ll shoot your buddy here.”

Liam freezes and Tellar promise, “You’ll take a fucking bullet doing it.”

I glance between them, the long-haired renegade that is Jared and the bulkier military man with a buzz cut that is Tellar, both with jaws set, both with steady hands, and I truly believe they are each just as willing to pull the trigger of their weapons.

“Amy,” Liam says softly, easily commanding my attention, those aqua-blue eyes finding mine. A storm erupts inside me. I love him. I love him with all my heart and I cannot let him die. I won’t let him die.

“Go away, Liam,” I force myself to order. “I’m not with you anymore. I’m with Jared. I was always with Jared.”

“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

“It was about your money,” I press, but the words are lead on my tongue. “I needed it to get to my brother but it’s handled. He’s safe and you and your arrogant, bossy self can just go away.”

His gaze slips to Jared and back to me “So you’re fucking him?”

“I...yes. Yes I am.”

“While you’re pregnant with my child.”

I ignore Jared curse’s at the surprising news, and stay focused on Liam, “Why do you think I was so pissed when you didn’t use a condom?”

I hit a nerve and anger hardens his handsome face. “Whatever you’re doing, stop.” His voice is ice laced with pain and it’s just too much. This is all too much. I hurt. I do not want Liam to hurt. Regret shakes me to the core and I do not know what insanity made me listen to Jared. There is only one way to handle Liam and this isn’t it.

I grab my purse and fumble with the flap, pulling the gun from inside. Liam doesn’t move. He stands there, unmoving, unreadable. I point the gun at Tellar and Jared. “Both of you get out.”

Tellar curses and Jared flicks me a shocked look. “Amy--”

“I won’t kill either one of you but I’ll shoot you in the legs and knock some of the damn testosterone out of you. Now, get out! Fight outside. Figure it out and let us figure it out.”

“Get out, Tellar,” Liam orders softly.

Both men hesitate and seem to come to a silent understanding. They harness their weapons and head for the door. It shuts behind them, leaving Liam and me alone.

Chapter Eighteen

Liam doesn’t move. He just stands there looking good enough to lick and mad enough to tear down the walls of the dingy motel. He owns this room. He owns me and I can’t do anything about it. I don’t even want to try, and yet the hell of my life keeps forcing me to push him away.

The gun shakes in my hand. “I told you not to get killed. Charging in here is not the way to stay alive.”

He advances on me slowly, and each step is like a band stretching around us, ready to pop at any moment. I’m not sure what to expect when it does. “And holding a gun on me makes sense in this equation how?”

“Everything isn’t an equation. It just...is.”

“Like me coming for you?” He stops in front of me, and just as Jared had in the truck, he closes his hand over mine where I hold the gun, but it is nothing like that earlier moment. I gasp as the sensations rush over me, and I have this undeniable sense of us being two parts of one whole. Of not fully breathing while we were apart. “You had to know I wasn’t going to leave you in a motel room with Jared.”

My lashes lift at the intensity of his tone. In the depths of his gorgeous blue eyes, there is a promise that I am his and that he will never let me go. That I am as rooted in his soul as he is in mine, and he is going to fight for what that means, while I am fighting to save his life.

“I told you to go to Denver,” I whisper.

“I sent Derek.”

“What if I was in Denver?”

“You aren’t.”

Electricity charges the air and the tension that is building seems to jolt up one more notch. “You didn’t know I wouldn’t be.”

“Yes I did, and as sure I was in the air traveling here, I got the alert that you were headed here too.”

“From my ID at the airport,” I say, and it’s not really a question. “And I went straight to my old house. I made it easy for anyone to find me.”

He gives a nod of confirmation anyway. “You wanted me to find you.”

Yes. “No. I wanted to find you when this was over.”

“Together, baby. We’ve talked about this.” He sets the gun on the bed and I swear the few seconds he isn’t touching me is hell. His hands come down on my shoulders. “Do you know how much what you said about Jared killed me after I’d already died a million deaths in the past twenty-four hours?”

My heart squeezes with the vulnerability of his confession, the intensity of his tone, and I wrap my arms around him, absorbing the heat of his body, the power and strength. “I didn’t mean anything I said. I hated it. I just…” I look up at him, urgency roaring to life. “They’ll kill you. You have to leave. Go underground. Please. I’m begging you. Go underground like you wanted to take me. They won’t kill me. Not when they think I have what they want.”

His hands slip into my hair. “I’m not going anywhere without you. I leave when you leave. And you’re not going anywhere with Jared.”

“Liam--”

His mouth comes down on mine, and it’s pain and heartache, but there is more. There is a harder edge, a demand, anger.

I’m angry, too, and I don’t think it’s at him. I just am, and he is angry too, and we are all over each other, wildly kissing, tugging at clothes. My shirt is tossed to the ground and I shove his up his body, seeking skin against skin, a moment of no barriers when there seems to be so many between us, too many.

My hand flattens on his “pi” tattoo where I want my mouth to be, but when he unhooks my borrowed bra, and I hear the rumble of Tellar and Jared arguing outside, I grab it, holding it in place. “We can’t. Tellar and Jared.”

“Ask me if I care about Tellar and Jared right now?” He tugs the bra away, wrapping his fingers around my neck and dragging my mouth to his again. “You said you fucked Jared.”

I forget my hesitation of moments before. “I told you. I was trying to scare you away. I know you know that.”

“That didn’t make it easy to hear. That doesn’t stop this burn inside me that says I need to remind you who you belong with.”

“I don’t need a reminder.”

“I think you do.” He lifts me and carries me to the bed, setting me on the mattress. My shoes and jeans, and even my panties, are gone before I can protest. Not that I want to. And as much as I hate that I’ve made him feel he has something to prove, this fierce, intense, dominant man he is now calls to me. Liam calls to me. He speaks to me on some level beyond words, deep in my core, like an expression of something I have inside me, and that I find within him.

He drags me to the end of the bed and turns me over, his hands going to my hips to pull me onto my knees. I’m submissive to him like this and I think I get him more in this moment than I ever have. He needs the control he’s felt he’d lost the past few days. And the truth is, I need to give it to him. He’s my escape, the only place I can let go, the only place I can trust.

He leans down and cradles my body, caresses my breasts, brushing my hair off of my back, the long, blonde strands falling to the bed, over my cheeks, blinding me. But I don’t need to see. That’s what is so erotic, so perfect, with Liam. I really do trust him.

His lips settle at my nape, his hand kneading my breast, teasing my nipple. My breasts are heavy, my sex aching, my thighs damp. He kisses between my shoulder blades, then flattens his palm there, slowly dragging his hand down my back to cup my backside.

I should spank you, he’d threatened once. It’s confusingly erotic, teasingly sensational. But he doesn’t and somehow I knew he wouldn’t. He cups my cheeks and then caresses down my thighs and back up. His fingers slip intimately between my legs, into the slickness of my swollen, aroused body and I fall to my elbows, unable to hold myself up on my hands.

He begins to stroke me, playing with my clit, and then slips two fingers inside me, filling me, stretching me. I find myself leaning back into the touch, arching my back, pushing for more. And I know he could take me over the edge but he doesn’t. He teases me. Pulling his fingers out. Pressing them back inside me. Repeating until I think I will go crazy. Finally, oh yes, finally, he takes me to that edge and I am ready. So very ready, when suddenly, his fingers are gone and I am panting in agony.

He flattens his hand on my back and leans over me, his mouth moving to my ear. “Not without me. Not this time. You need to remember the meaning of ‘together’. Don’t move.”

Don’t move. Easier said than done, but I can hear him undressing and I focus the idea of him being inside me. How good it will feel when that first touch of his cock becomes a deep push. And I get what I crave. His hands come down on my hips. His shaft settles between my thighs. “Mine,” he growls, and he thrusts into me, driving hard and deep.

I moan and expect another thrust, but instead he goes down on the bed and molds my back to his chest, his hand covering my breast. His lips are back at my ear as he whispers, “Mine.”

“Yes. Yours.”

“He wants to fuck you.” He tugs on my nipple, almost as if he is punishing me with pleasure, his hips grinding into me.

“And I want to fuck you,” I pant.

He pulls out of me, turns me to face him, presses his cock inside me and cups my backside to bury himself deep inside me again. We lay there then, our eyes connecting, as he murmurs, “The best fucking, baby, is when it’s--”

“Raw and honest,” I whisper.

His sensual, amazing mouth curves slightly. “And when it’s wicked hot and driven by love.” His fingers settle on my face. “Like I love you with everything I am and ever will be.”

He loves me. I knew, I did, but hearing it is everything. “I love you too, and I didn’t want to tell you in a note, but I didn’t want to risk never telling you at all.”

“I know,” he murmurs, his fingers caressing down my arm to slide up my back and mold my chest to his. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

It’s an order, but somewhere in the depth of the command is a plea, and pain. I hear the pain etched in his words, see it in his eyes. Not for the first time, I am struck by the way we speak to each other beyond words. The way my soul knows his soul. Love and loss have touched our lives, but with all his money and power, he has never felt what family truly means. He has never felt that unity and peace.

I twine my fingers in the dark strands of his hair. “You have to know that leaving you was about not losing you. Please tell me you know that.”

“I know but I can’t go through that again, Amy. Together means together. Whatever happens, you come to me and we will handle it.”

“I just--”

He cups my head and kisses me. “No excuses. Together. That’s what you say you want.”

“It is.”

“No exceptions.”

“No exceptions,” I murmur and his tongue sweeps against mine, tender and sweet, and where I’ve tasted possession and need in him in the past, I taste love and heartache now. I moan and deepen the kiss, trying to wash away the hurt in him I know runs deeper than me and this moment in time. It’s why he understands mine.

I don’t know when we start moving. We just do and it is passion and pleasure and absolute perfection in the midst of the danger surrounding us. All that matters are these moments and every touch, every lick, every move, is about the forever we want to share together. The family we want to be together. I want it to last, but too soon, I tumble into those blissful spasms of release and he shudders with his own. It is truly bittersweet.

In the aftermath, we hold each other, neither of us caring about the stickiness on our thighs, or the two men hanging out beyond the room. We lie there together...breathing. Eventually, Liam pulls out of me and walks to the bathroom, returning with a towel, helping me clean up, and it doesn’t make me blush. It somehow makes me feel closer to him.

We lay on our backs and stare at the stained ceiling. “Is the house okay?”

“It’s fine, but even if it wasn’t, it can be replaced.” He turns to look at me. “You can’t.”

I roll to my side to face him. “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if Alex’s home had been destroyed.”

“I told you--”

I touch his lips. “I know. You’re worried about me, but what is important to you is important to me.” I think of Meg’s claim that she’d set the fire, but now it seems to have been done with help. “Was there a bomb?”

“No bomb.”

I let out a breath. “That’s a relief.”

“How did you end up with Jared instead of Meg?”

“When I got here, I went to my old house--”

“Red Heaven Restaurant,” he supplies.

A burn starts in my chest. “You know?”

“Derek figured it out after he put Sheridan on the radar.” He takes my hand. “I should have been there when you found out.”

“I know you wanted to be and that’s enough.” I lower my lashes a moment, reining in my emotions before I look at him again and say, “It feels like a slap.”

“It’s meant as one.”

“So you think he’s involved.”

“Yes. I have no proof, but I’ll get it. Meg. What happened to her?”

“Jared showed up at the restaurant and she took off.”

“Interesting. I’ve been checking on her.”

“And?”

“Her identity is a nothing but a shell like yours.”

This doesn’t surprise me. “She says she’s Chad’s wife.”

“Nothing in any of the data I received on her suggests she’s married to anyone, let alone Chad.”

“Jared seemed surprised too when I told him, especially since Chad didn’t mention her. He has a picture of her with the man who was having the affair with my mother.”

Liam scrubs his jaw. “There’s one from right field. I didn’t expect that. Does he know who the man is?”

“No. He’s just this perpetual mystery we can’t solve.”

He studies me with hooded eyes, several seconds ticking by.  “About Jared--”

“I’d been with him all of an hour. He tracked me from my travel just like you did.”

“Why is he even involved in this?”

“He’s an old friend of my brother’s,” I explain and detail everything Jared has shared with me.

“You believe him?” Liam asks, sounding more than a little skeptical.

“He had a voice message from my brother begging him to protect me. I heard it, Liam. He’ll play it for you.”

“So your brother’s...alive.”

“Yes. Or he was. All these years he’s been alive and living a few blocks from me. But now--” Meg is gone. “Oh God.”

 I sit up and Liam follows. “What is it, Amy?”

“Meg was my connection to whoever has Chad. I was so taken aback by Chad’s voicemail, I forgot how important her link to my brother is.” I scramble of the bed and cringe with cramps.

“Amy.” Liam is by my side in an instant, arms around me. “Easy, baby. What’s wrong?”

I swallow hard and straighten. “Nothing. I’m fine. It’s over. Just some cramps. From sex, I think.”

His brows furrow. “Is that normal?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll call Dr. Murphy.”

I grab his arm, urgent to save my brother’s life. “Not yet. Not now. My brother left me a message with Jared. He said he wasn’t going to make it through the night but to tell me 111 was the way to protect myself. I hope it’s also what these people want so we can get him back. I hope he’s still alive.”

“What’s 111?”

“He was doing this message in a bottle thing where he wrote notes and stuffed them inside it. I asked him what it was and he said ‘a hundred reasons why and eleven assholes’.”

“What does that mean?”

“I asked that and he said he hoped I never had to find out.”

“His back-up plan. Where is it?”

“My senior year, right before the fire, my gym class buried a time capsule at school to be opened in twenty years. My brother brought that bottle and put it inside.”

“Then we need to go dig up a time capsule. Right after we deal with Jared.”

Chapter Nineteen

It’s ten o’clock at night when we reach the back of my old high school near the football field, and the site of the buried time capsule. Tellar does the dirty work while I, Liam, and Jared keep our flashlights beaming for him. Thankfully, the building hides the lights from the main road. The capsule is buried close to the surface and the shovel clangs against metal in all of five minutes.

Tellar dusts off the big steel box and we squat around him as he lifts the lid. Anxiously, I dig through the various items placed with such care inside, relieved when I spot the bottle. “Thank God,” I whisper, removing it and hugging it to me. “Please let this be the ticket to saving Chad.”

Liam strokes my hair behind my ear. “Let’s hope, baby.”

Tellar shuts the lid and covers the hole and we kill our flashlights to make the dark trek back to Liam’s rental, a massive Land Rover that easily holds all four of us. Tellar and Jared pile in the front of the vehicle and Liam and I claim the back. I immediately uncork the bottle and start trying to remove the paper stashed inside.

“We should wait until we get to the motel again,” Liam warns, having arranged a nicer place for us to stay up the road that he says is safer. All I care is it’s farther from my old home. Being near it is harder than I’d thought it would be. But I’m not prepared to wait to get there.

“I need to know what’s inside and if it can save my brother.” I pull out several pieces of paper from the surprisingly wide opening of the bottle.

 Liam curses and Tellar locks the doors with a grumble of, “I guess were doing this now.”

Obviously caving to my urgency, Liam beams his flashlight over one piece of paper after another until I prod, “Well?”

He glances around at all of our watchful gazes and announces, “Names, dates, and types of transactions. And the details are clear. They’re all illegal.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Jared says. “Powerful men believe they can get away with anything.”

Liam arches a brow.

“Some powerful men,” Jared amends. “And the jury is still out on you.”

“How do the crimes tie to Chad?” Tellar asks, ignoring the exchange.

A larger piece of paper piques my curiosity and I unroll it to see the names my brother had alluded to, with Sheridan’s name at the top. I hold it up and show it to Liam. “The eleven assholes.”

“What?” Jared and Tellar ask at the same time.

“When my brother was filling the bottle he said there were a hundred reasons ‘why’, whatever that means, and eleven assholes. These are the names of the eleven assholes.”

“Rich assholes,” Jared adds.

Liam glances at the list and hands it to Jared. “Anyone else you know on it?”

Jared gives it a once over. “I hacked for #3. Don’t know the rest.”

Tellar surveys the names. “No one from our research, but I’ll get Derek to run it through the FBI system.”

“Don’t,” Jared warns. “It could trigger alerts we don’t want with law enforcement. Chad would rather be dead than in jail, I promise you.”

I remove a larger piece of paper with my name on it and show it to Liam. His hand slides to my leg and he leans in as I unroll it, shining the light on it, and reading it with me.

Amy,

If you’re reading this, everything has gone terribly wrong. Just know this: I hope things aren’t as bad as I’ve imagined they could be. It all started with creative fundraising. Dad and I wanted to work certain sites, and it just wasn’t happening financially. That led us to a group called The Underground, treasure hunters all over the world, each with their own leadership. Someone wants something and the price is right, so we get it for them and we ask as few questions as possible. I got greedy. The money...well, the money. I hope like hell you never read this and know the way I’ve let it control me.

I took jobs I shouldn’t have, ones off the grid of the Underground. Well, one of those treasures is what I can’t hand over. It would cost too many lives, and I know you can’t live with innocent people dying any more than I can.

The Underground is working on how to protect me and our family even as I write this. But I can’t take a chance I end up dead and they don’t protect you. Copy the list of names and the one hundred crimes I’ve included. Then tear the list in half to show only the first five names. March into Sheridan Smith’s office and tell him if you, or anyone you need to protect ends up dead, you’ve arranged to have the rest of the list and the documentation I’ve provided mailed to the District Attorney, the FBI, the CIA, and local law enforcement. You have to go in person. Look him in the eyes and make sure he sees no fear. I know how the man operates and this makes certain he really gets the information himself.

This is my fault, Lara, and I’m sorry. I love you and I love Mom and Dad. I would never do anything to hurt you and it kills me to know that I can’t just make this go away.

Chad

His words stab me in the heart a million times over. The bottle doesn’t save him. It saves me. And I wait for some kind of meltdown, but it doesn’t come. It’s there, though, simmering in a hole inside me that was carved with what I thought was his death.

In this instant, I seem to be in that zone of mine, that place my mind takes me when I’m least capable of handling reality and have to survive. I hand the note to Jared and calmly start rolling the other papers back up. Liam’s hand goes to my chin, pulling my gaze to his. “Nothing in that letter says he’s dead.”

“I know I--” Pain rips through my pelvic area and I hunch forward, forgetting the other two men to press my hand between my thighs. “Oh...Oh Liam.”

“What is it, baby? What is it?”

“Call Dr. Murphy. Call her now.” I grab the seat back Jared occupies and another cramp rips through my abdomen.

“Get her on the line now,” Liam is saying into the phone. “I don’t know where she’s at. Just get her.”

A damp sticky sensation forms between my legs and I look down to see blood seeping through my jeans. “No. No. This can’t be happening. No. Liam, no.” I turn to him. “I’m bleeding. I’m bleeding.”

Liam curses. “Get us to the hospital now.”

Jared curses and says, “What the fuck is going on back there?”

I hear Tellar say something to him, but I don’t know what, and really don’t care. Liam pulls me to him and I grab his shirt. “I got you, baby. I told you that. I got you.”

“This is why I didn’t want to be pregnant. I lose everyone.” My eyes burn but not nearly as much as my soul. “Everyone. I’ll lose you too if you stay with me.”

“You aren’t going to lose me,” he promises.

“But you can’t tell me I’m not losing the baby, can you?”

He caresses my hair. “Whatever happens, we’ll handle it together, baby.”

“Wrong answer. Wrong answer.” I bury my face in his chest. He was supposed to tell me it‘s going to be okay, like he always does. Instead, he cups my head and holds me like he’s afraid he’s going to lose me. I squeeze my eyes shut, the dampness clinging to my cheeks and the prickling in my head is welcome over the cramping in my belly. And for once, the past is easier to deal with than the present.

The sound of fire trucks fills the air and I hurt. Oh God, I hurt all over. It’s all there is, but for the smoke. I can’t escape the smell and slowly I become aware of the crackling of flames and everything comes back to me. My mother’s screams. Mom. Mom. I try to lift my head but I can’t. Tears spill from my eyes and I feel someone’s hand on my wrist, then my back.

“Holy fucking shit, tell me she’s okay. I need her to be okay.”

Chad! I shout in my head at the sound of my brother’s voice but my lungs and throat burn too much for words and my neck is so very heavy.

“Are you insane, boy?” another man with a familiar voice I can’t place, demands. “I told you I’d take care of Lara. Get out of here before they come for you.”

“Is my fucking sister okay? I need to know she’s okay.”

“She’s unconscious, but her vitals are good.”

“Then I’m taking her with me.”

“Is she okay, Dad?” yet another male voice asks.

“Get the hell out of here, Luke!” the first man shouts. “Go now.”

“But Dad--”

“Go! You saw nothing and no one.”

“But--”

“Go!”

There are footsteps and the sirens are blasting near my ears now. I tell myself to lift my head. Lift my head. But I can’t.

“You go too, Chad,” the man commands. “Go now.”

“I am not leaving without her,” Chad repeats.

“She needs a doctor,” the man says. “Once I know she’s okay, I’ll get her out of the hospital. You just get that paperwork we need.”

I blink awake with a cramp and I hear Liam’s urgent voice asking, “Is the baby okay, doctor?”

I blink to find I’m in a hospital bed and a man with grey hair wearing blue scrubs is leaning over me. “I need to run some tests. If you could step out--”

“No.” I grab Liam’s hand. “No. I need him here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He levels the doctor with a stare. “I’m staying.”

The doctor looks like he wants to argue but focuses on me instead. “How do you feel?”

“I’m still cramping and I think I’m still bleeding.”

He studies me intently. “Were you dizzy when you passed out?”

“I have...another condition,” I comment. “I black out.”

“Her doctor in New York is treating her for it.”

“Can we get her doctor on the phone?”

“I did better,” Liam says. “I have her on a plane headed here.”

The doctor looks startled. “You did what?”

“Dr. Murphy is coming here?”

“Yes. Anything to take care of you, Amy.” He glances at the doctor. “She’ll be several hours but I’ve arranged to have her call in from the plane the instant she’s airborne.”

“Very well,” the doctor says and he touches my arm. “In the meantime, we need to get you into a gown, and run some tests.”

“Does the bleeding mean I’m losing the baby?”

“Not always,” he assures me. “Let’s get those tests done and we’ll know more. When is your due date?”

“June.”

He grabs some kind of spinning calendar and says, “That puts you close to the 3-month mark. We’ll be able to check the heartbeat with some special equipment and do a pelvic exam. Have you had a sonogram?”

I shake my head. “No. No sonogram yet.”

“We’ll do one today. It’s painless and we’ll be able to tell a lot.” He glances at Liam. “I’ll be at the desk just outside when she’s ready.”

He steps out and pulls the curtain, and Liam leans in and kisses my forehead. “Maybe it’s just cramps,” I say hopefully.

“We’ll know soon,” he assures me, tugging my shirt over my head and then sliding the gown over my upper body. I still have on the oversized bra but I don’t care.

Next we remove my pants and when I see how much blood there is, as hard as I try to fight it, tears slip from my eyes. It’s too much blood to just be cramps. I know it is. Looking grim, Liam leans over me and grabs the intercom button, punching it and asking for help.

He swipes at my tears. “Hang in there, baby. We’re going to get through this.”

I cling to his hand for dear life, and looking into his eyes, I see his torment is mine, and while I wish him no pain ever, there is comfort in knowing he isn’t just present, but is as deeply wounded by what is happening as I am.

The nurse appears almost instantly and she places something underneath me and then buzzes the doctor. I grab Liam’s hand again and say, “You’re still not telling me it’s going to be okay.”

He caresses a lone tear from my cheek. “I’m supposed to be here for you even when it isn’t. I’m going to get the doctor.”

I nod and then I endure the pelvic exam but I stay hopeful when the cramps seem to have eased. “Well?” Liam asks before I can.

“Your cervix is dilated. That can be an indication of a miscarriage but let’s do the other testing first.”

I don’t have time to react to the news. A whirlwind of activity follows, through all of which I’m hurting, from heart monitoring to the sonogram, and the doctor and the nurse are incredibly hard to read. Finally, the doctor says, “As difficult as this is, with the level of bleeding, I’m certain that not only are you miscarrying, but I recommend a D & C to ensure you don’t hemorrhage excessively. We can wait until your doctor gets here, but if I can talk to her I’m fairly certain she’ll agree.”

The rest fades in and out. Something about miscarriages being nothing I did wrong. They can’t be explained. I can try again. By the time the doctor is gone, I’m curled on my side. Liam climbs on the bed and wraps himself around me. I explode into tears then, my body quaking with the intensity. And I am crying for more than my child. I’ve lost my brother all over again and have no idea how to get him back, or if he’s even still alive.

* * *

Twenty-four hours after the message in the bottle and the loss of both my child and my brother, it’s time to leave the hospital. I shower and dress in the black velour sweatsuit Liam had brought to me along with many of my new things he’d bought me in New York. Trying to feel human, I brush my hair to a silky blond mass and even force myself to apply a little makeup.

I emerge from the bathroom to find Liam standing in the room waiting on me. To my surprise he’s dressed in a black pinstriped suit with a crisp white shirt and white tie. His dark, thick hair is neatly groomed, his goatee trimmed to sexy perfection, and he’s simply breathtakingly handsome. So very male, when I am feeling like half a woman, but somehow, just having him here soothes the ache inside me.

“All right, Mrs. Stone, I just need you to sign some papers. How will you be paying?”

I blanch at the sound of the voice of a woman I hadn’t noticed was in the room. Holding a clipboard, she brushes her brown hair from her eyes, and presses her black-rimmed glasses up her nose and nods. “Hello, Mrs. Stone.”

I glance up at Liam and his eyes warm, taking on that possessive quality I have come to know so well and a part of me wondered if I’d ever see it again. Without looking away from me, he hands the woman a black American Express. “On my card.”

She clears her throat. “Would you like to see the total?”

“No,” Liam replies. “I do not want to see the total.”

“It’s quite large.”

He flicks her a look. “I’m good for it.”

“Oh, of course. Yes, Mr. Stone. I’ll be right back.”

I glance down at my arm where the hospital bracelet rests, to read the word ”Stone” and wonder how I had not noticed this until now. Liam steps to me, framing my face with his hands. “I wanted everyone in this town to know I’ve claimed you. You are mine and I protect what is mine.”

“But I don’t. I lost...everyone. I lost our baby.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. You didn’t do anything. It just wasn’t meant to be. We can try again.”

“Do you want to try again?”

“If you do.”

“I don’t know. What if I don’t want to and you do?”

“I just want you and us, baby. And when the time is right, and this hospital room isn’t that time, I’ll ask you to marry me properly and then take you pyramid hunting all over the world. You and me, baby. That’s what I want.”

I press to my toes and kiss him. “Thank you.”

He wraps his arms around me and I welcome the strength and tenderness that is this man. I need him as I have never needed anyone in my life. “I should be the one thanking you,” he murmurs, a rough, raspy quality to his voice.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“For being you, and it doesn’t matter what name anyone calls you. I love you.” His lips quirk. “But I like how Amy Stone sounds. I like it a lot.”

I surprise myself and smile, sliding my fingers in that wonderful dark hair of his. “I like it, too.”

A knock sounds on the door and Liam kisses me before calling for the cashier to enter. “All right,” she says. “Here’s your receipt and you’re all set to go.”

Liam turns to her and takes the paperwork and suddenly, the world outside this room crashes down on me. I’m fantasizing about playing house with Liam when nothing is solved. We don’t know who the stranger I’d seen with my mother is. We don’t know if Chad is alive or dead. We haven’t dealt with Sheridan.

The woman leaves and pulls the door shut behind her. I lean on the bed. “Now we face my Godzilla again and I’m pretty sure your sharks are in for the action, too.”

Liam steps in front of me. “There’s a treatment center in Germany for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I thought we’d fly there and make it a vacation.”

“No. I’m not running.”

“It’s not running. It’s about you getting well.”

“There are doctors in New York.”

He studies me a long moment, his expression hooded. “You want to go to New York?”

“It’s the closest thing I have to a home.”

His hand slips under my hair to my neck. “Baby, my home is your home. What is mine is yours.”

“I don’t want what is yours. I want you and I want a home. I want stability. I want to walk outside and not fear what is around every corner. I’m going to do what Chad said. I’m going to talk to Sheridan and I’m ending this.”

“I’m dealing with Sheridan.”

“No. Don’t do this again, Liam. Your taking over my life isn’t what I need.”

“I’m trying to take care of you. Chad had the right idea, Amy, but my involvement will ensure you’re protected.”

“We, Liam. We, not you. I need to go with you. Chad told me to go.”

Torment flashes in his eyes. “I’m trying to be the best man I can be for you, Amy, but I don’t want you around that man.”

I touch his face. “A few minutes ago, I was lost, Liam. Then I walked into the room and you were here and I was found. You do that for me.”

“You are my other half, Amy. I have to protect you.”

“Just like I want to protect you, but it’s not like Sheridan doesn’t know who I am now. He even knows that he can find me with you. This meeting, it’s about closure, and even more so, it’s my brother’s wish, maybe his last one. I need to go with you.”

“What about your health?”

“You made me stay in the hospital a full day when most people stay a few hours and I’ve had Dr. Murphy by my side constantly. I’m allowed to do normal things within reason.”

“You really need to do this, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Then we’ll go see Sheridan together.”

Chapter Twenty

Once it’s decided I am to attend the meeting with Sheridan, Liam insists I need to wear something other than the jeans and sweatsuits he brought for me. Fortunately, Dr. Murphy graciously loans me an outfit and after changing into the dress she brought me, I exit the bathroom to find her leaning on my hospital bed, her red hair tied neatly at her nape.

“Oh hi,” I say, not expecting her.

“Liam went to chat with Tellar in the hallway. How are the shoes?”

“A tad big but I can make them work.”

She gives the fitted knee-length black dress a once over and smiles.“It fits you perfectly.”

“Yes. And the color is...appropriate.”

She presses her red-painted lips together at my obvious reference to mourning. “You do know you did nothing wrong, right?”

No, I don’t. “If I’d controlled my stress--”

“There’s no scientific data to support miscarriages and stress being related. Many woman live in horrific circumstances and still deliver at full term.”

“The flashbacks--”

“Didn’t cause this.” She pushes to her feet and walks over to me, taking my hands in hers. “Sweetie. You did nothing wrong. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“When I have flashbacks, they’re memories I’ve forgotten. I don’t understand why I don’t remember until I have one of these...episodes.”

“The mind is an amazing machine, Amy. It protects us. It gives us what we can handle. When we get back to New York, and you get some rest, come to my office and we’ll talk more.”

“Yes. Okay.” And the idea of actually leaving the house to visit her and walking around New York without fear is a good one. I just hope this meeting makes that happen.

“Ready?” Liam asks from the doorway.

“Yes,” I say, zipping up the bag he’d brought me.

Dr. Murphy walks toward Liam and stops beside him. “Make this trip you have planned fast. I prefer her off her feet.” She doesn’t wait for his answer.

Liam arches a brow at me as she leaves. “I think I’ve been scolded.”

I smile. “Don’t mess with Dr. Murphy or you might really get spanked.”

He laughs, sauntering toward me, and the deep, rumbling, and wonderful sound of his laughter reaches inside me and eases just a little bit of the ache. Wrapping me in his arms, he says, “I think that might be pain not pleasure.” He sobers. “You need anything?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

“I suppose it is. Let’s go get this meeting over with and go home.”

“Home,” I repeat. “I like how that sounds.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.”

* * *

I exit the hospital with an entourage of Liam, Tellar, and Jared, while Dr. Murphy is being driven by private car to the airport to meet us later.

“Sheridan’s offices are in Austin,” Liam informs me. “Any stops you want to make before we leave?”

“If you mean, do I still want to go to the cemetery? The answer is no. When I go it won’t be to say goodbye to all three of them. It will be to tell them I saved my brother.”

Understanding seeps into Liam’s eyes. “We’ll come back when you’re ready.”

I lace my fingers with his. “I know.” And it feels good to know that when I do he’ll be with me.

We ride in silence the rest of the trip and prepare to exit the Land Rover in the parking garage. Liam turns to me and says, “Say nothing inside the garage or the building that you don’t want heard. Assume everything is being recorded. And you’ve been through hell, baby, I know, but you can’t blink in this meeting. Hold your chin up and be strong. Just being here sends a message of confidence to Sheridan, but let me talk. Let me handle this.”

“Yes.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” He kisses my forehead and opens the door.

Tellar and Jared are flanking us almost instantly and despite having three, big, confident men with me, my nerves are fluttering all over the place, as some part of me is holding on to the hope that this meeting will lead me to my brother. It’s all I can think of as we enter the lobby, until I see the well-manned security desk we have to get past.

“Give me a minute,” Liam says, motioning to Tellar, who falls into step with him, and leaving me with Jared.

Jared’s eyes land hard on me. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Chad’s letter didn’t tell me to have someone else do this. He said me.”

“Because he wasn’t sure you’d have anyone else.”

“If he left the clue with you, he clearly thought I’d have you.”

“You do, you know. You have me if you need me.”

“I know and I have you to thank for getting me the message and a whole lot more. I won’t ever forget any of it.”

“I don’t want thanks,” he says. “I want you to stay alive.”

“Let’s hope that’s what’s about to happen.”

“You want your brother back. That’s not going to happen today. Don’t get your hopes up. You don’t need to be torn down again.”

Anger stirs inside me, a mask to the pain I’m fighting to control, and I’m glad when Liam motions us forward. “Hope is all I have, Jared. Don’t take that away from me.” I’m angry. Borderline furious, and I know it’s not about Jared. It’s about the ache inside me I can’t contain.“And your timing for this conversation really sucked,” I add before I start walking.

  “Amy.” He calls after me, but I keep going, and when Liam casts me a curious look I don’t look at him for fear he’ll see me as the stupid wilting flower I feel like right now, before I shake it off. And I will. Before we get to the meeting, I will be a rock.

We step into the elevator and Liam wraps his arms around my waist, a silent show of unity, and it’s exactly what I need. I draw a few breaths, and I find my zone. The twenty-fifth floor dings and the four of us enter an office with a fancy oriental rug softening our steps. The lobby is expensively furnished, and like so many downtown Austin offices, the walls are decorated with artwork highlighting the city and state.

A pretty brunette receptionist, with long silky hair touching the shoulders of the pale pink jacket she’s paired with a black skirt, stands up to greet us from behind a mahogany desk. “Mr. Stone,” she says tightly, her attention focused on Liam and not because he’s every woman’s fantasy. There is hostility in her look that I assume should prepare us for more to come.

“I’ll show you to Mr. Smith’s office.” She flicks an irritated look at Jared and Tellar. “They won’t be invited.”

“That’s all right,” Jared says, sitting down in a cushy leather chair, draping his arm over the back, and settling the ankle of one long, jean-clad leg on his opposite knee. “We’ll just keep you company here in the lobby, sweetheart.”

“Sure will,” Tellar agrees, claiming a seat across from Jared, stretching his legs out in front of him.

 The woman’s lips tighten, and it’s clear she’s not enticed by how good-looking both men are, nor pleased, for that matter. But I am quite pleased. I like knowing they are aware of what’s going on out here, when we’re wherever we’re about to be. “This way,” the woman says, turning on her heel and walking down a long hallway.

The instant we follow, my nerves are jumping all over the place. Liam’s hand settles on my back, a silent message of protection and comfort that brings me back down a notch. I’m not alone. We are doing this together.

The hallway stops at a walnut-finished double doorway. “This way,” the woman says, opening both doors and stepping aside to let us enter.

Liam looks down at me, and the promise that we are in this together is in his eyes. Together we step onto the hardwood floor and toward the centerpiece of a sprawling corner office with a downtown view and expensive walnut furnishings.

Mr. Smith, every bit his sixty-plus years, with grey hair and a rather regal carriage, stands as we approach his desk. His lips twist rather wickedly as he says, “Nothing like bringing the mouse to the cat.”

“Unless the mouse has become the cat,” Liam replies, his hand slipping away from me as he walks forward and sets the large envelope on the desk. “Look inside.”

I step to my left to have a view of the two men, who have the room crackling with tension.

Smith’s dark brown eyes narrow on Liam and he appears just curious enough to bite. He tears open the seal and removes the paperwork, studying it a moment, then holds up the list of names cut in half. “Where’s the other half?”

“It’s insurance.”

“Insurance?” He crosses his arms. “Go on.”

“That complete list and the damning paperwork attached to it will be mailed to the District Attorney, a number of congressmen, and local law enforcement in the event anything happens to me, Amy, or anyone who has ever breathed our same air.” Liam leans forward and plants his fists on Smith’s desk. “But because I’m a paranoid kind of guy, I took it a step further. I put a price on your head and every name on that list.”

I gape. A price? As in he hired a hit man? Surely not.

Smith leans in and plants his hands on the desk just as Liam has. “Two can play that game. A price for a price.”

“Then we go nuclear,” Liam replies.

“Yes,” Smith agrees. “We go nuclear.”

Liam pushes off the desk and moves to stand beside me, his hand on my waist. “Let’s go.” He starts to turn me but Smith looks at me for the first time since I’ve entered the room and the cold calculation in his eyes sets me off. “I want my brother back,” I demand.

“It takes a miracle to raise the dead, little one,” he replies. “And I don’t see you offering me any motivation to create one.”

“I have nothing to offer,” I reply.“I was never a part of this. I never knew anything.”

His jaw sets and he reaches for a picture and turns it to face myself and Liam. My lips part in shock as I stare at the stranger we’ve been trying to find. “My son. He was killed tragically in a plane crash six years ago. Your brother was with him. So I guess we can all agree. Your brother’s future has always been in his own hands. But then, if I could have helped him, I would have. Just as I’m sure, you would have helped your brother.”

“She has nothing you want,” Liam bites out, “but mark my words, Mr. Smith, if I find out you have what she wants, you’ll regret the day you were born. And I will find out.”

“Because you have money? That doesn’t work with me. I, too, have money.”

“Money has nothing to do with it. It’s what I’m willing and capable of doing to protect what’s mine. That’s what matters here. Push me I will make you bleed in ways you never believed possible. We’re done here.”

Liam turns me to the door and we start walking.

“Mr. Stone.”

Liam pauses with his hand on the door handle.

“It’s you who do not know what I’m capable of.”

I watch Liam’s lips hint at a cynical smile and now he turns to face Smith. “Not everything, but there are at least a hundred ways I do know you in that paperwork I gave you, and all those ways are illegal. Read through the document and butter up some popcorn. There are some real blockbusters in there.”

And this time, Liam and I leave. Tellar and Jared follow us into the elevator car and the need for silence is killing me. The instant we are in the truck, I turn to Liam but I open my mouth and snap it shut, afraid I could say something that could later incriminate him.

He leans in, resting his cheek next to mine like he does sometimes and whispers, “Yes. I really did it, and I will do anything to protect you and make you happy. Anything.”

* * *

We arrive at the private section of the airport and exit the truck. Dr. Murphy arrives in a private car and Tellar helps her with her bags. Jared turns to Liam and me and says, “This is where I say goodbye.”

“No,” I insist. “What about Chad? We need your help.”

“I’ll look for Chad my way.”

“Why not join us?” Liam asks. “Consider it a private hire job.”

“I freelance for a reason. I work best by myself.” He flicks a look at Liam. “And the jury is still out on you for me, Liam Stone, but the book isn’t closed.” His gaze settles on me. “Take care, Amy.” He turns and starts to jog toward the building.

I dart after him. “Wait! Wait!”

Looking surprised, he faces me and I say, “You’re the way Chad reaches me.”

“If Chad calls, I’ll be in touch.” He softens his voice. “You can’t live thinking Chad will reappear, Amy. That’s not living and that’s not what Chad wanted for you.”

Wanted. Past tense. He thinks Chad’s dead. “And you, Jared, can’t live without hope, or you won’t be living at all.”

He studies me a moment, his lips quirking, a cold wind reminding us it’s November despite being in Texas, blowing wisps of light brown hair from the clasp at the back of his neck. “I haven’t really lived in a long time. I’ll be in touch.”

He starts jogging again and this time I let him go. Liam steps to my side and laces his fingers through mine. “He left because he thinks Chad’s dead.”

“He left because this isn’t his place or his way, not because of Chad. That doesn’t mean he’s gone. Either of them.” He motions to the plane. “We need to get you off your feet.”

I nod and let him lead me onto the same private plane we’d been on once before. The doctor fusses over me when I don’t want to be fussed over, and finally Liam and I settle into private seats beside each other in the back of the cabin and pull the curtain for privacy. With a blanket and a pillow, I lay on my side facing Liam, and he does the same. The engines churn louder and I think about how much has happened since that first time I’d seen Liam in the airport and sat next to him on the plane.

“That flight to Denver, did you have anything to do with me ending up in first class?”

“Of course I did. I asked if you were making it on the flight and there was one coach seat left. I paid the guy sitting in first class next to me fifty thousand dollars to take it.”

I gape. “You paid fifty thousand dollars to sit next to me? I don’t understand. You were flying commercial. You could have flown private for that.”

“I fly commercial often. I don’t believe in throwing my money away, but that fifty thousand dollars was the best money I’ve ever spent.”

“You didn’t know me.”

He reaches up and strokes my cheeks. “When our eyes met in that airport, I saw another lost soul. And baby, you will never be alone again.”

I curl my fingers on his cheek.

Chapter Twenty-One

Liam and I spend the entire flight talking about pyramids and I find myself excited to talk about my family and the many amazing things I experienced with them. Honoring them, as Liam had once suggested.

By the time we walk into his home, my home, I am exhausted, but I am eager to gobble down a pizza in bed with him, and when he calls it our “habit”, it creates a sweet, warm spot in my chest. Not since I lived at home with my family have I had habits I shared with anyone. I fall asleep in Liam’s arms feeling safer than I have in a long time but as I drift off to sleep, I cannot help but think of Chad, and wonder where he is.

“Honey, grab the mail?” my mom asks as she stirs a pan on the stove. “I’m expecting something important.”

“Sure, Mom,” I say, pushing away from the table where I was working on my homework.

Humming the new song I just downloaded off of iTunes that I can’t get out of my head, I leave the kitchen and head toward the porch, thinking I’ll never get used to my mom baking cakes rather than digging in the dirt beside my dad.

“You’re fucking my mother? Are you insane?”

I stop walking at the sound of my brother’s angry outburst.

“You fucked me,”the other man says.“I just wanted to show you how easily I can fuck you and anyone near you. And she thinks she’s helping to convince me to let your father out of our deal.” A low laugh escapes him. “Good mommy.”

A rough growl escapes Chad’s lips and he shoves the man against the wall. “You touch my mother, or anyone in my family again, I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

“You give me what is mine or you and your family will all be dead.”

“I don’t have it.”

“You’d better get it then.”

“I told you, I didn’t take it.”

“What’s going on?”

I jump at the sound of my mother’s voice behind me. She steps to the screen door and I hear a soft gasp escape her lips. She shoves open the door and repeats, “What’s going on?”

The stranger Chad was fighting with is walking down the stairs and I can’t see his face.

“You tell me, Mom,” Chad says, confronting her. “Get a little too lonely while we were away?”

I hug myself, fighting tears. This isn’t happening, but I saw her with the man in the black sedan. I saw her, and--

“I tried to clean up your and your father’s mess,” my mother proclaims, her voice shaking.

“You got used like a cheap washcloth.”

My mother gasps at Chad’s harsh words and bursts into tears, turning away from him, rushing through the door, and past me. Chad tries to follow her but I step in front of him, swiping at tears, anger surging through my body. “What did you do? What did you both do?”

“I told you, you can’t handle it.”

“What did you do, Chad?”

He looks at the ceiling, torment and self-hatred pouring off of him, before he grabs my arms, stares at me a moment, and  kisses my forehead. “I’ll fix this. I promise you, Lara. I’ll fix it. Everything is going to be okay.”

I blink awake, instantly aware of Liam wrapped around me, holding me tight against his body, one leg wrapped around mine, and I realize why I hate the promise that everything is going to be okay. I hate it because of that day. And yet I am okay. I have Liam and I have survived. It’s my brother that’s in question.

Epilogue

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Fuck! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

I lift my aching head that feels like a hundred pounds on my stiff neck, and stare at the concrete walls of what has become my cage. Where is that fucking noise coming from?

Drip. Drip.

Losing my mind, I tug at my hands behind my back, the rope biting into my flesh. “Fuckkkkkk!”

My head drops between my shoulders and I stare at the ground.

Drip. Drip.

Red dots clutter my gaze and I focus on the red puddle beneath me. Blood. Oh yeah. I’m bleeding.

The door opens with a loud grind of metal and I squeeze my eyes shut, ready to die, hoping it’s time. If Jared did what he was supposed to do and saved Amy, it will be. She deserves to live. I do not. But I will not go out a coward. Defiantly, I lift my head and I think I blink. My eyelids are too swollen to be sure. Considering there’s a gorgeous brunette in a pale, slim-cut black dress that hugs her curves in all the right places standing in front of me, maybe I’m dead already anyway. Her creamy ivory skin and pale blue eyes are pretty angelic, so yeah. I think I’m dead. Fuck though, I still hurt all over, so I must have gotten what I deserve. I’m in hell and the devil is a hot bitch playing games with me. I could think of worse nightmares. Like my life.

Drip. Drip.

Or not. The dead don’t bleed and I sure the fuck am. I give my new bitch a smirk, eying her with a nice long inspection meant to make her feel uncomfortable and send me to my hell with at least a little pleasure.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to need a whole lot more than stilettos and great legs to get me to talk, though I’m pretty sure I have some moans left in me. I’ll let you have a few, too.”

She pulls a knife out from behind her back. “Ah,” I murmur. “You like it kinky, do ya? I guess this is where things get interesting.”

“Yes, Chad,” she murmurs, her voice as sexy as her legs. “It is.” And then she, and her knife, move just where I want them. Nice and close.