Unbroken

by Lisa Renee Jones

  My fingers curl around the journal, tears of joy welling in my eyes. “It’s the most gorgeous ring I’ve ever seen.” My lips curve. “But I’m not delicate. If you think I can’t kick your ass, Liam Stone, you’re wrong.”

  He wipes away a tear that escaped. “Marry me, and you’ll have a lifetime to prove it.”

  “Since you put it that way.” I laugh. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

  “How about New Year’s Eve?”

  “That’s less than two weeks away!”

  “It’s too long as far as I’m concerned, but I was thinking New Year, new beginnings.”

  “Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.”

  Liam slides the ring on my finger and we both stare at it for several seconds, as if neither of us can believe we are finally here in this moment. This feels so right.

  He leans in, whispering, “I love you,” the rasp of his goatee teasing my cheek, his lips an erotic promise of the kiss that follows. But when his tongue makes a caress into my mouth, it’s so much more. It’s a tender, sweet connection I feel in every part of me, but most importantly deep in my soul, where he has begun coloring that rainbow I know will be our life together.

  When his mouth leaves mine, he sits on the couch and indicates the journals. “I know you’re dying to read them. How about I go and make us some coffee?”

  Touched, I’m convinced he knows me in a way I never believed another person could. “That sounds wonderful. Perfect, actually.”

  He kisses my temple and stands, striding away from me in that graceful, powerful way that he does. I watch him leave, a surreal feeling rolling over me. He’s going to be my husband. I’m going to be his wife. This house is my home. “I love you, too.”

  Opening one of the journals, I start to read, immediately lost in my father’s words. I’m sad that my parents won’t be at my wedding, but joyful to have this piece of them with me. And I’m laughing at my father’s words, his bold personality jumping off the page, as Liam returns, handing me a cup of perfect coffee.

  “I see you’re enjoying the journals,” he observes, sitting next to me.

  “My father called me, Chad, and himself the Three Musketeers.”

  “And your mother?”

  “The damsel in distress. That’s why I was laughing. She hated it. He did it to egg her on.” I have a flash of finding her kissing Rollin Scott, trying to free my father from a debt he’d owed; my stomach clenches and I shove the image away. “She was . . . strong, too much sometimes.”

  He touches my chin. “There is nothing wrong with being strong. You’re strong. She taught you right.”

  “Like your mother did you?” I ask, thinking of how she battled an abusive husband, and then struggled as a single parent with cancer.

  “Yes.” There’s a hoarseness to his voice. “Like my mother did me.” But he doesn’t elaborate the way I hope. He sips his coffee and sets it down before leaning against the armrest. “Come here,” he says, motioning for me to join him.

  I sip my coffee as well and crawl into the cocoon of his body, resting my back against his chest. “Tell me about your family,” he orders.

  I welcome the challenge, reciting the passage that had made me laugh, pleased when his response is that warm, rich chuckle I find so sexy. I start reading him random entries, and he encourages me to share my own stories. It’s as perfect as the ring and the man. Because only Liam Stone would understand that the best way to start my future is with a little piece of my past.

  PART FIVE

  Go Bold or Stay Home

  THE NEXT MORNING I STAND IN the kitchen, a cup of coffee in my hand, a smile on my lips as I wait for Liam to return from his meeting with Josh. I’m still riding the high from Liam’s proposal yesterday and the fun we’d had decorating the tree. I even put on a pale pink lace long-sleeved top with my black jeans and boots today, to match the diamond on my finger. Liam picked a special ring and I want him to know how much I love it, and him. Missing him, I grab my cell phone from the counter and glance at the time—eleven o’clock—eager for an update on the meeting, now two hours long. I’m remarkably at peace with the decision to bring Josh into this, now convinced it’s the right move.

  I’m also unsurprised that we weren’t able to reach Chad to talk about it. My brother believes that staying off everyone’s radar, including ours, will protect us.

  My phone beeps with a text, and I set my cup down and quickly push the button, thinking it’s Liam. Instead, it’s a message from Tellar: I’m here. Don’t freak when the alarm buzzes. He’s never warned me before; does he think I’m spending my first few hours of solitude in months running around naked? I’m about to reply when the garage door buzzes with a security warning.

  I refill my cup to hear “Morning, Sunshine” behind me, and Tellar rounds the island and makes a beeline for the coffeepot.

  “What if I had been naked? You didn’t wait for my reply.”

  He grabs a cup from the cabinet, the jagged scar on his jawline I’ve never had the courage to ask about in view. “Liam wasn’t here,” he says, reaching for the pot. “I figured it was a safe gamble you’d be dressed.”

  My cheeks flush. “I owe you for that one,” I say, as he reaches for the sugar and pours enough in his coffee to bake a cake. “My God, your dental bill must be outrageous.”

  He shrugs and leans on the island across from me. “You only live once. I’m going to enjoy my sugar.”

  “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said that about pizza,” I say, inspecting his navy suit and noting how neatly slicked back his light brown hair is. “Why are you looking all Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard today?”

  “Now that we’re back from the beach house, I need to be ready to run in the same powerful circles Liam does.”

  “Of course.” It hits me that I don’t recall Liam taking any business calls at the safe house, and selfishly I’d never once noticed, let alone wondered how that impacted him. Just like when I’d asked him to run away with me and leave everything he’s ever accomplished and established behind.

  “Hard to believe Liam has a Christmas tree,” Tellar comments, pulling me back into the conversation.

  “Oh. Yes. We do. We didn’t like any of the choices Liam ordered,” I laugh, recalling the decorating process. “Liam turned the alignment of the ornaments into a precise architecture project.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Architecture is his life. Aside from you, that is.”

  I feel rather queasy that Liam has ignored his business matters these past weeks. I can’t remember the last time he touched a pencil to a design.

  “I’m helping my sister put her tree up tonight,” Tellar continues. “Anything to lift her spirits.” He scowls, the deep scar on his cheek making the look quite menacing. “That bastard ex of hers is doing a number on her.”

  Forcing myself to focus on the conversation, I ask, “He’s giving her trouble?”

  “He’s giving her the cold shoulder, and it’s killing her when she shouldn’t give a shit. They were together five years when he decided to give his secretary a go. She caught them in his office the night before Thanksgiving.”

  “Yikes,” I say. “I guess my lonely holidays weren’t so bad after all.”

  He levels me with a stare. “You won’t be alone this year or any year going forward. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, I know. And it’s wonderful.”

  His eyes light with approval and he lifts his cup in a toast. “To all kinds of wonderful.”

  “To all kinds of wonderful,” I repeat, clinking my cup to his.

  “Starting with the big party tonight,” he says. “I understand we need to take you shopping for a dress.”

  “I have a few dresses Liam bought for me a while back. I need to go see if anything will work.”

  He snorts. “Unless it’s dripping with gold, it won’t. That event will be a money farm.”

  I almost choke on a sip of coffee “A money farm?”

 
“That’s what all those people will be there for. Farming money.”

  “You’re making me really excited to attend.”

  He shrugs. “Just keeping it real.”

  “Thank goodness someone does.” Keeping it real, when so much in my life has been absolutely fake, is exactly what I love about Tellar, and why I have to corner him while I have this chance. “How do you feel about us being back and Liam roaming the streets without you?”

  “What happened to all that brave talk you just fed me?”

  “I’m braver about myself than about Liam.”

  “Be bold or stay home,” he says. “And bold is the right move, Amy. I know you’re nervous. How can you not be after all you’ve been through? But the steps taken now will establish your freedom, and safety, for years to come.”

  I nod. “I know. I do. What about Josh? What do you think of him?”

  “He’s a good guy, and yes, I know Liam is bringing him into the mix and finding someone to follow up on any leads he generates.”

  “And how do you feel about him keeping you out of it?”

  He sets his cup down and rests his hands on the counter behind him. “Realistic enough to know that I’m too close to you and Liam to follow up on anything that brings attention to you both.”

  “Are you going to help us pick someone to do it, then?”

  “If Liam asks me to I will, but he is of the opinion the less I know, the better.”

  My brow furrows. “But he told you about Josh.”

  “Because anyone close to you needs to be on my radar.”

  That makes no sense. “But Josh isn’t close to me.”

  “Monitoring any red flags attached to you and Liam is close to you. And my job is to take care of you.”

  The vehement way he makes the statement reminds me of how lucky we are to have him on our side. “Thank you, Tellar.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here for me so many times and in so many ways.”

  He inhales and lets it out. “I’ve been wanting to say something to you for a while now.” I arch a brow and he answers with, “I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?”

  “The first night I met you, I misjudged you. I didn’t understand how alone, and without resources, you were. Surviving took perseverance and smarts few people would have had.”

  “You were protecting Liam. And the PI you’d hired to help find me had just been killed for asking the wrong questions about me. I’d have judged me, too, in that situation.”

  “You did nothing wrong. I was wrong.”

  “I did nothing for far too long. I was afraid to ask questions. Afraid of being killed. Afraid of being without resources. My list could go on and on.”

  “You were eighteen when your family died and you were told to hide or die. Rollin and his people were powerful adversaries. Had you started digging for answers, you would have been captured and used as a weapon to get Chad to hand over the cylinder. You did the right thing.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s done now and I’m here. Chad’s alive. We’re taking steps to be aware of any threats.” I lift a finger. “And,” I add, “Liam is in my life to be overprotective and bossy. Strike that. You and Liam are in my life to be overprotective and bossy.”

  “I’m not bossy.”

  “Oh please. You love to bark out orders.”

  “Only when necessary.”

  “Did you get that from the same book of answers that Liam quotes?”

  The garage door buzzes with Liam’s arrival and I push off the cabinet, fighting the urge to rush to him and ask for details about Josh.

  “Relax,” Tellar urges. “I’m sure it went fine.”

  I nod. When door finally opens, Liam rounds the island in a light gray suit with a white shirt and silver tie, his expression unreadable, jaw set hard, power radiating off him. He stops beside me, casting Tellar a look that sends him toward the door.

  Liam steps in front of me, his hands settling at my waist, his big body pinning me against the counter, his piercing blue eyes holding mine until the door shuts, then says, “Do you have any idea how much I want to tear your pants off, set you on the counter, and fuck you right now?”

  Heat rushes over me at the bold words he favors, and apparently, I do too, since my nipples pucker beneath my bra and I have to force my voice to ask, “To celebrate, or to work off frustrations?”

  His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering, then lifts to meet my eyes. “Because I want to.” He inhales, settling his hands on either side of me. “But if I do that, I’ll take you to bed afterward, and I won’t let you up. And as appealing as that is, you need a dress for that party tonight.”

  “Does that mean things were good or bad with Josh?”

  “It went well, which means we need to establish a reason to have more contact with him.”

  “Define ‘went well.’ ”

  “I gave him a partial list of keywords to monitor and he’s going to begin this afternoon.”

  “What did you tell him about the cylinder?”

  “I told him it was a clean energy source that would rock the economy. That’s all he needed to know.”

  He laces my fingers with his. “Let’s go shopping.” He leads me toward the door while I replay Tellar’s words in my mind. Go bold or stay home. I’ve been conditioned by past circumstances to feel fear rising in my belly—but that was then, and this is now. I’m not staying home.

  A FEW MINUTES later, Tellar pulls the Bentley into heavy afternoon traffic. “Where to?” he calls over his shoulder.

  “Saks Fifth Ave,” Liam instructs him.

  I blanch at the outrageously expensive store he’s chosen. “It’s the Saturday before Christmas,” I argue. “The midtown stores are going to be even worse than the streets. Let’s go to some smaller place I know.”

  “You aren’t picking a dress based on the price tag,” he replies, seeing right through my argument. “We need to get you over your fear of spending money.”

  “It’s not fear,” I say. “It’s . . . discomfort.”

  “Then your discomfort.” He glances at his watch. “We have a good four hours we can practice.”

  “You make four hours sound like a lot, but it’s not. Especially considering lunch. I wish we’d had a little more notice before this party.” I cut him a look. “Speaking of which, Josh said you hadn’t told me about the party. When did you know about it?”

  “When did I not? He holds this thing annually, and like clockwork, he calls me every December first to insist I attend. Also like clockwork, I ignore him. This year I don’t have that luxury, but you can bet I’ll preach the merits of better use of our funds for the future.”

  I smile inside at the way he includes me with the use of the word our and his fierce determination to avoid parties. “Do you already have a tux?”

  “I own one,” he confirms.

  “What kind of recluse are you?” I tease.

  “The kind that’s always prepared.”

  “And always in control,” I tease again.

  “Always,” he confirms, his eyes meeting mine, and there is no mistaking the erotic challenge burning in their depths.

  While I normally enjoy being overwhelmed by his total alpha sexiness, I’m feeling like a bird whose wings are no longer clipped, and I have the urge to test his claim. Right here. Right now. “Always?” I ask softly.

  His eyes narrow, darken, and there is no question that he’s read between the intended lines. I hold my breath, certain I have tempted the wolf.

  “I’m pulling up to the building to let you off while I park,” Tellar announces. “Unless you want to come with me while I park.”

  “Pulling up is fine,” Liam says, shackling my arm and leaning into me, his cheek to mine, his breath warm on my neck as he whispers, “Whatever naughty thought you have in mind, I can promise you, mine is ten times naughtier. I’d suggest you lock the dressing room door, unless you want to find out.” He releases me, leav
ing my body buzzing and my cheeks flushed as he opens the door and exits the car.

  Feeling warm all over, I abandon my coat as Liam has, sliding the Chanel purse he bought me crosswise over my body, and for no apparent reason I think of the gun he insists I carry with me. Glancing toward the door, Liam offers me his hand, his gaze meeting mine. I tilt my head, seeing the challenge in his action, the control he wishes to claim. His sexy, sometimes punishing mouth curves, an erotic challenge igniting the air, several charged seconds clicking by before we both start laughing for no reason at all.

  He claims my hands and helps me out of the car, and the next thing I know he’s molding me close to him, his hand pressed to the small of my back. “I love you, Amy Bensen,” he murmurs, his breath a warm fan on my cheek in the cold winter air.

  “I love you, too, Liam Stone,” I say, inhaling the scent of nuts cooking at a street vendor’s cart as the energy on the street expands around me, people bustling here and there and everywhere it seems. And I know in this moment why I was more comfortable here than in Texas. This place long ago became my home. “And I love this, too.”

  “This?” he inquires, leaning back to give me a curious look.

  “The people and the energy of the city.” I grin at the sound of a guitar strumming “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” “The street vendors and musicians.” I flatten my hand on his chest, over his heart. “The fact that we’re safe enough to let Tellar park the car and we’re here alone.”

  He drapes his arm around me and we weave our way through the crowded sidewalk to the store’s entrance. Irritatingly, a prickling sensation begins on my neck, and I smash the urge to look over my shoulder. I’m just being paranoid. Tellar is watching us, no one else, and my fear will not be bolder than me.

  PART SIX

  The Dressing Room

  LIAM AND I REACH THE STORE as an elderly woman is struggling with the door. He quickly opens it for her, and she stares at him with such gratitude that he and I are both smiling as we enter, hand in hand. Warmth welcomes us as we step onto the white tiled floor. My gaze does a fleeting scan of the glittering glass cases holding cosmetics, perfumes, and accessories, while luxury handbags are displayed across the aisle. It’s a stunning first impression, but my real focus is the magical white Christmas tree directly in front of us, towering at least fifteen feet high.