Survival & Revenge (Boston Latte Book 3) Page 10

  I felt the burn beneath his intense hold, the pressure restoring an ache in my body longing for the touch of another. My mouth hung as I considered his piercing glower and clenched jaw. I can’t have him…yet.

  “He’ll always be mine, Liam, and I’ll always be his.”

  “Bird.” He rattled my shoulders once more. “I’m not playing games and neither are you. I don’t want you to die and, most of all, I don’t want my brother to be murdered while trying to keep you alive.”

  His punitive glare was dark with our shared torment, entirely out of place in his suit and tie. Maybe this is his place, his element. I reached for his tie once more, pulling down while I stood on tiptoes. I let my eyes fall to the knot in his tie and lifted my left index finger to the satin. It reminded me of Julian, and I was lost between wanting to strangle Liam with it and pretending he was his brother. If I squinted and just smelled his cologne, felt the heat radiating from his body, or lifted to hold his jaw, I could pretend. But I didn’t want to pretend. I needed Julian and his trinity knot, not his brother who wouldn’t communicate with me. My turn.

  “This is an Eldridge,” I whispered against his jaw, my finger stroking the knot. “One notch beyond a trinity knot, but one step too far and not quite as elegant. It wants to be, and it certainly attracts attention, but it won’t ever be its competition.” The silence behind his flared nostrils was enough of a response. I was in.

  “You won’t ever be him, Liam,” I whispered against his neck before lowering my feet. I caught his glowering stare, its potent fire burning into me. Liam refused to reply, but his body spoke volumes. What am I doing? Watching him rigid and mute, I was overcome with guilt, despite my desperation. He wasn’t going to take me, and I knew it. He was part of the game, and I was losing.

  In surrender, I turned from Liam and walked back to the corner where I felt the least exposed. He didn’t move, and I didn’t look at him to learn where his eyes fell once I curled against the cinderblocks. I looked down at my knees, blood stained and aching, before whispering to him once more.

  “I don’t want you to be him, Liam.”

  He stormed across the room, tearing me away from the wall and into his arms with an intensity that stole my breath. Liam restrained me within his powerful arms, and all I could do was sob, a breathless cry for my shattered heart once it found reality. Liam held me against him, risking the damage of my disgusting exterior to his pristine suit. I woefully fell under his pressure, succumbing to the soft caress of his palm against my hair. I was between limp gasps for breath when Liam lifted his chin from my head and lowered his face toward mine.

  “You want to live life locked away in a cage, bird,” his knuckles grazed my left cheekbone, leaving a burn in their wake, “only to be let out when your master decides you earned a cracker?”

  “Whatever it takes,” I repeated my loyalty.

  “They’ll win,” he uttered. “They locked away your memories, and now they will lock away the bird, shackle her wings and all.”

  “You said we didn’t have time, but you turned your back on me and you’re still here, Liam. If you care for me in any way at all, you’ll get me out of here.”

  His lips met the top of my head, caring little for the filth I became in my prison, and Liam’s hold released. I closed my eyes, pretending he was still holding me so I couldn’t feel the cold gust of emptiness burning in his absence. His footsteps were determined and powerful, their sound vibrating the confining walls around me.

  “Take me home with you,” I pleaded, opening my eyes only to watch Liam leave me. I tumbled into the corner, humiliated and ashamed. How could I even think I held any power? I was embarrassed, consumed by a recent memory of who I hoped to be rather than comprehending the pariah I was. I betrayed Julian by flirting with Liam; I made a fool of myself and gave way to my weakness—Julian.

  I couldn’t imagine what the plans were for me once they’d crushed me to a pulp. They couldn’t do more damage to me, for I was already destroyed. They can’t break what’s already broken, unless they killed him. The thought was a gag in my throat, forcing my stomach to heave. I was numb once more, curled into a ball on the cold floor of my chamber, slowly losing attachment to the seam of my hope. He isn’t coming.

  ***

  I tried to open my eyes, but the lids hung heavily with exhaustion and remorse. Had I not loved him, we wouldn’t know the grief of twice losing their war. Had he not loved me, I wouldn’t be alive to suffer the agony of a broken heart. With whom does the fault lie? My nightmare was quiet, and I thanked my mind because I could no longer cope with anything else. I was folded in half, cocooned in a warm embrace, but it wouldn’t last in my dream. My head wobbled until my chin finally dropped against my chest, jarring me awake. I must be dreaming. I hoped the nightmare would end swiftly, no longer repeating the love we shared or the torture I experienced.

  The warmth of his chest beating against my folded body forced my thoughts back to my first night at Julian’s, fairytale and all, as he carried me from couch to bed.

  “Our fairytale is real.” I choked on the muffled whisper, my throat sore, trying to redirect my nightmare. I remembered everything, from the first time to the last. Knowledge was both power and weakness with how much destruction they contained. With a suffocating grasp around my shoulders and legs, I fumbled in my thoughts to replay and consider what I could have done to save him, to save us, but my mind and heart battled for blood. It was primal, my organs competing for survival, but also desiring the taste of revenge.

  I was held tightly, the pressure necessary to keep me from breaking. I tried not to think anymore, but the eerie silence around me was deafening. Our movements were hurried, a rushed departure from my incarceration to the unknown. That woke me. It wasn’t a dream, but I couldn’t assume it wasn’t a nightmare. I lifted my eyes beneath their swollen lids as a lonely tear tumbled to its death over my cheek and onto Liam’s hand. He held my face against his warm chest, and all I saw was the same smooth Eldridge knot I earlier challenged.

  Even though my fingers trembled with weakness and fear, I lifted my right palm to press against his chest. It was barely an imprint, but my skin was graciously rewarded with the smooth fabric of his shirt and the warm pulse of his heart beneath my hand. His restraint on me tightened with a burst of snowy wind twirling around us in its relentless attempt to stall the journey. We’re outside. I listened for a signal, Liam’s motive, only able to catch the faint rumble of a locomotive. Liam’s pace quickened, and it rattled me in the secure cradle of his arms while he struggled to march through the heaping snow. I didn’t ask his intentions. If he was going to kill me, I only prayed he respected his brother enough to let me go gently.

  My head fell backward over his forearm as Liam lowered me down, and all I could see was the sky swollen with snow, an overflowing barrier to movement. Liam’s arm shifted, catching my head and rolling it into the crook of his elbow. Our eyes fixed and I was lost, immediately consumed by the overwhelming beauty in his stare. It was just like Julian, but the energy was different. I realized, once he broke our gaze, I witnessed Liam at work, on a mission, and I kept my chapped lips sealed. I was privy to the craft they kept hidden. Julian killed Cedric in my kitchen, but in that moment, I was prey, and I didn’t see the bullet. Liam was fierce, his exterior composed too intricately well that it should have left me terrified. I couldn’t feel, I could only watch.

  I was limp as Liam placed me on the backseat of a car, his warm hands gently pulling out my legs. I refused to release my arms, knowing I’d fall apart. I followed him with my weary stare, mesmerized at how swiftly Liam removed his coat and covered me with it before closing the door. I heard his footsteps crunch in the snow as he walked around the car, his door opening in haste before he slammed into his seat and revved the engine. He sped through the streets as much as the snow allowed, never looking back to me. I hoped it was a shield, part of the focus of whatever job he was on.

  The car bounced as it traver
sed the unplowed streets, a motion that surrendered me to sleep. The seat was soft, the air warm, and I couldn’t open my eyes until I felt his smooth fingertips grazing my arm as he twisted around his seat to touch me. Liam didn’t flinch when I touched him, rewarded with the security of his skin. The backseat was illuminated and dark on a repeated cycle as we navigated streets closer to downtown, a glow and shadow allowing me only one second in light to acknowledge my surroundings. I held Liam’s fingers, mindlessly grazing my thumb along his palm. I needed the reassurance of human contact, of his touch and our existence. I stared at his hand, the passing streetlight reflecting a sliver of his watch, which snapped my attention to the skin beneath mine. I squinted, unsure if it was a shadow or my imagination. Blood. I screamed, my voice found through the smeared crimson covering both of our hands.

  Chapter Twelve

  The streetlights faded in our shadow, darkness taking hold. Liam maneuvered into a parking garage with his right hand in my worried possession. His silence maintained its tortuous composure in the car, even as his hold tore from mine and the door behind my head rushed open. A burst of cold air swirled in, blowing my filthy hair. Liam’s fingertips softly tickled my forehead, numbness disappearing in the wake of his touch.

  “I’m going to be honest with you about one thing, bird,” Liam whispered into my ear. “Don’t scream.” He knelt inside the opened door and combed hair behind my ears, exposing my neck to the chilled air. I waited for his speech, closing my eyes in anticipation. A wave of adrenaline pumped through me in a forceful rampage at the thought his honesty could be about my greatest fear…

  “I killed three men tonight. The blood is theirs.” Liam softly peeled more hair from my forehead and cheek, its adhesive tugging on my skin. “You’re safe for now.”

  “F-for now.” I repeated his words, letting their potency sink into my soul. He rescued me. He killed for me. Just like Julian. He would get three tallies burned into his skin to commemorate the day, but it didn’t resolve the distance between Julian and me; it wasn’t Julian who saved me. It was my key.

  Liam only offered a soft tickle of his fingertips along my jaw as a reminder of his proximity in response. His touch was tentative, making it easy for me to cry. Safe. I would never be safe again, ever. I opened my eyes once Liam’s touch tickled its way off my neck, studying the interior of his car. I had been in it before, when he took Julian and me from Elliott’s funeral, when he collected us from the theatre. Julian. My heart ached for him, one tear falling for the memory of his touch against mine and another winding along my cheek in gratitude to Liam.

  “Can you sit up?” he questioned, his warm fingertips wiping the tears from my temple.

  I rolled onto my stomach on the backseat, looking around the underground parking lot. Floodlights beamed every few parking spaces, most of which sat empty and exposed to the damp walls stained with tears of rust.

  “Where…” I mumbled between breaths as I tried to sit. Liam effortlessly reached for my arms and pulled me out of the car, my body pressed against his as he kicked the door closed. Liam’s suit smelled amazing, almost edible after my imprisonment. With my chin pressed into his collar, I looked in Liam’s eyes and caught him watching me. His fingers spread along my back before Liam lifted my feet from the floor and carried us through the garage.

  My ears rang once we entered a narrow staircase, the parking garage sealed behind us with an interior door. It was the hum of hall lights and the maroon carpet that bothered me, the chorus of life that sang from beyond the interior walls. Liam held on to me as though his life depended on us getting somewhere, and maybe it did, but I fell into the trap of his security with each step he silently mounted until we reached the elevator. I was able to stand but couldn’t leave his side and adhered to him for strength. I never imagined Liam would give me strength of any kind.

  The hall and elevator were barren, the ride up several stories was equally intimidating, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than Liam holding me together. His left arm wrapped around my body while his bloodied right hand grasped a railing inside the elevator.

  “Who?” My voice came with just a breath as I limply nodded to his hand. Liam followed my gaze just as the elevator doors opened. He guided us into the hall, the same maroon carpet held captive with gold trim against the granite below. I studied the doors we passed, my eyes adjusting to the lighting through rapid, painful blinks, and the panels identified with gold numbers.

  Liam stopped outside of a room at the end of the hall and reached into his rear pocket. He said something to me, but I couldn’t hear him over my pounding blood. I felt something cold in my hands and looked once at the metal in my palm.

  “Thanks,” he whispered, taking the gun and shoving it back into his waistband. Just like Julian. I didn’t realize his foot held the door open until Liam repeated my name and ushered me in with his palms wrapped around my shoulders.

  “You can breathe now,” he muttered once the door closed behind us. “We both can.”

  I stood in the small hallway and watched Liam kick off his shoes, toss his suit coat on the floor, and untuck his shirt. I couldn’t help taking in the man in my company, perplexed by his casual acts while covered in blood after murdering people to rescue me. He permitted me to breathe, but it was hard as hell.

  “Bird,” Liam called while unbuttoning his shirt. I watched his soiled skin poke around each button before they tugged free the knot of his tie. He shrugged himself out of his shirt, letting the fabric fall to the floor before kicking it over to the pile of his coat and shoes. His undershirt was damp with a ring of sweat around the collar. I couldn’t breathe, watching Liam reach the hem and lift his shirt from his body, standing across from me in only his pants and socks.

  His knuckles grazed my jaw, his fist lifted my face toward his, and for the first time since knowing Liam Molloy, I saw him. I hadn’t been so intimately close to him, always protected from him by Julian. Protected from him? Was Liam a threat? I watched his sullen blue eyes curiously wander my face, my neck, my mouth, before stopping against my stare. I inhaled to ground myself, my mind churning with the tickle of familiar cologne that lingered in the air with its beautiful torment. I’m hallucinating.

  Liam stepped away, entering a darkened doorway at our side, and the movement swirled the cloud of spice once more. When he flicked on the lights, I could see a bathroom, and the rest of our space took shape. We were in a hotel, not a home, not his. The roar of water distracted my attention, and I turned to the bathroom door, no longer able to see Liam. I could finally move my feet, a semblance of strength returning, and I entered the bathroom. He moved from the counter, hands full with three bottles and two towels, to kneel next to the bathtub. It filled with steaming water that splashed blossoming bubbles before Liam turned off the faucet.

  “What are you doing?” I questioned, leaning against the doorway. His knees cracked as he stood, as though he had been in that position too long that day, and reached for my wrists.

  “I’m giving you a bath.” A bath? Him? Me? I froze. Liam lifted my chin toward his face, concern etching itself into his furrowed brow.

  “Aideen,” my name fell with a sigh, “you can barely stand. You’re shivering now even when leaning against a door frame. You’re deprived of sustenance. I’m going to help you.”

  He carried me, hugged me, held my soiled hair and body in his clean hands. Modesty and vanity disappeared and, honestly, they vanished with my lost dignity. I mustered a nod, permitting Liam to further care for me. I closed my eyes, not out of shame, but remorse as his warm fingers found the hem of my shirt and began to slowly pull my clothes from my body. The remorse wasn’t regret; it was an apology to a me who once was—a me who once loved the wrong man, the right man, the man in the suit. Julian.

  I was able to walk with Liam’s guidance to the tub, where he released his hold and bent to check the water temperature. My eyelids hung heavily with exhaustion, a sensation the security of Liam and his hotel room
brought. He held my forearms as I stepped into the tub, my legs quivering with effort, and he patiently guided me into the water. My rapid heart was rewarded with his delicate touch against my back, bubbles tickling as Liam slowly spread soap along my skin.

  I leaned my head back with Liam’s support, allowing him to knead my aching skull with lemongrass-scented shampoo. Bruises and cuts burned with his contact, and Liam quickly learned where to avoid without my feedback. His washcloth pressed against my face, and I watched the stained water dribble away from my knees in the tub, the weight of the injuries leaving with each drop that tainted my bath.

  The bubbles dissipated, destroyed by the toxic slime Liam cleaned from my body. He was silent, his expression impassive, although his eyes were focused on each task with determination while his stare avoided any part of me he wasn’t cleaning. With my hair rinsed, I watched the water move before me and noticed my bra and knickers thinned in the bath. Liam sat on the floor next to the tub, resting his head on his palm. I peered at the tattoo on his bicep, the tallies just like Julian, and the outline of Ireland he showed me weeks ago. He watched me, a gentle smile forming in the corner of his mouth.

  “Better?” I nodded my reply to Liam, and he smiled once more. He lifted to his knees and reached for a razor next to the bottles and towels he carried around earlier.

  “You don’t have to—” I tried to speak but was cut off by Liam shaking his head at me.

  My toenails had chipped paint, something I anchored my focus to while Liam glided the razor along my shins, calves, and underarms, bringing me back to humanity in the smallest of ways. He drained the tub and filled a crystal glass with clean water to rinse the remnants of waste from my skin before sitting once more at the side of the tub.

  “Now,” he informed, “we just need to dry you off and get you fed.”