Liam: The Lost Billionaires, Book 3

by Allison LaFleur

  “You can’t cancel my tour!” she screeched, momentarily forgetting her injury and trying to come over the seat at me. “I have responsibilities to my fans!” She hung half over the seat, wildly grabbing for the wheel to turn us around.

  I swatted her hands away and hit the brakes, slamming her back into her seat. “Ah!” I could barely hear her weak cry. She slumped over, no longer fighting me. I felt guilty for causing her pain, but we had to get a few things straight.

  “I’m sorry, Maggie.” I met her eyes in the mirror. “We tried it your way, and I almost lost you. It’s my job to keep you safe, and I failed. Now we do it my way.”

  She sat dumbly, clutching her shoulder as big, fat tears started to roll down her cheeks. She was not a quiet crier. Her sobs grew in volume, broken only by hiccups and the occasional sniff. I saw the deep glint of dark red reflecting through her fingers. Dammit. She’s bleeding again.

  I started the car rolling back up the mountain before turning it down an even narrower dirt road almost completely obscured by trees and brush. If I hadn’t known it was there, I would have missed the turn off. It had been a long time since I or anyone else had come that way.

  “Why?” she cried.

  “Why what?”

  “Why me? Why is someone trying to kill me?” She sniffled plaintively. “What did I do?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Maggie

  “What happened to my life?” I whispered into the ether. My shoulder throbbed, my nose dripped, and my head felt like it was going to explode.

  Liam stopped the old car in front of a beautiful log cabin. It was a sight I had not expected to see in the middle of nowhere. Even as mountains go, it was remote. Based on the piece of crap vehicle we were in, I had pictured something ramshackle and filthy, but this was a well-crafted, high-end structure.

  He had surprised me. I really didn’t know what to think. Who is Liam? What do I really know about him?

  He put the car in park, stretched his arm along the back of the bench seat, and turned to look at me. “We’re here.”

  Sniff. I looked at the dark house and wiped my nose. “Are you going to kill me?”

  His eyes flew wide, and he sputtered. The big, strong special ops guy was speechless as he faced me. “Kill you? Why would I kill you?” he asked, incredulous.

  “Well, you brought me to the back end of nowhere in the middle of the night.” My shoulder throbbed and my mouth was dry. I looked down at my lap before continuing in a small voice. “You could bury my body in the woods, and no one would ever find me.”

  It took him a minute to get over his shock, and then he started to laugh. Giant, belly-shaking guffaws bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. When he finally stopped and caught his breath, he blinked the tears from his eyes, and said, “No, Maggie. I’m not going to kill you. I’ve spent too much time already trying to keep you alive. We are going to stay in this cabin as long as it takes for my team to track down whoever is trying to kill you.”

  I shifted my gaze from Liam to the house and back. “Is there hot water?”

  He laughed again. “Yes, there is hot water.”

  “Thank god.” I pulled at the front of my shirt and little bits of dried blood flaked off. “I really need a hot shower and clean clothes.

  “Come on.” He opened the driver’s door, unfolded his long legs, and straightened himself to stand at his full six-foot-five height. Pulling the rear door open, he extended a hand to me. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

  I held tight to him as we walked up the creekstone path to the rear of the house. Two-story glass windows graced the front of the house, which sat perched on the edge of a smoke-covered lake. Liam pulled out a key and unlocked the door.

  “What a pretty lake,” I said, consumed by the moon’s hazy reflection on the surface.

  “It’s a tarn,” Liam said as the door swung wide open.

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s a tarn pretty lake.”

  He entered first. “I’ll find the lights. Sit here for a minute.” He pulled a sheet off a plush leather couch that faced the glass overlooking the water and helped me get situated. “I’ll be right back.”

  I heard his footsteps trail off into the dark, and then the room flooded with light. A tall stone fireplace dominated one wall of the room, the chimney rising two stories to the vaulted ceiling. The floor was polished pine boards covered in soft Navajo rugs, and all the furniture was overstuffed and leather—perfect for Liam’s large frame.

  “What is this place?” I asked as he came back in the room holding a stack of fluffy towels.

  “The shower is down the hall,” he said gesturing over his shoulder. “Here are some towels. I’ll put them in there for you.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Will you be able to do it, or do you need some help? You have to keep that bandage dry.”

  “I… uh… I should be able to do it,” I muttered, too exhausted to say much more.

  “Okay. Good.” He gave a relieved sigh, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll bring the stuff in from the car.”

  “Thank you.” I slowly stood and followed him to the bathroom. I admired his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back outlined under the tight black t-shirt he wore. It was tucked into his black cargo pants, revealing his narrow waist and hips above his long muscular legs. I enjoyed the back view immensely, although it was quickly forgotten at the sight of the enormous tile shower.

  I couldn’t wait to wash the blood and sweat from my body. My hair was sticky and matted to the back of my head. My torn shirt hung off one shoulder below the bulky white bandages. The rest of the shirt was stiff with dried blood. My favorite zombie shirt looked as though it hadn’t survived the apocalypse.

  “Can you… uh… help me get the rest of this shirt off?” I held my right arm tight against my ribs, trying to put as little pressure on my shoulder as possible. “I don’t think I can get it off with one arm.”

  “Um,” he looked me over nervously, “sure.” Liam shifted from foot to foot. “Turn around.” I faced away from him, watching his movements in the mirror as he reached for the bottom of my shirt and slowly peeled it off me. He took great care working it over my bandaged shoulder and then up over my other arm. He never took his gaze from mine. Our eyes met in the mirror, and he held mine there the whole time. I finally broke the connection when I turned toward him and took my torn, soiled shirt from his hands.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Ah, yeah.” He ducked his head, rubbed the back of his neck, and turned to go out the door. “Call me if you need any more help.”

  “I will,” I said, shutting the door behind him. However captivating he was, I smelled awful. I really needed a shower.

  Chapter Twelve

  Liam

  Good God.

  I fled the bathroom, and Maggie closed the door behind me with a definitive click. My hands were shaking, and a thin layer of sweat covered my forehead. I had to get myself under control.

  She was beautiful—absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. Her body was soft and supple in my hands. Her skin, even dirty and covered in blood, was a porcelain white so translucent I could see blue veins just under the surface. It took all my control not to run my fingers down the length of her spine, to brush the hair from her neck.

  Stop it! I needed to work, to focus on the job and regain my objectivity. Maggie’s life depended on it. Still, my mind conjured visions of her naked, standing under the stream of water, warm drops running down her bare skin.

  I stood in the middle of the living room, feeling my pulse thump rapidly in my neck. I had to get busy thinking about something else, so I turned and exited the house. It took three trips to haul everything in from the car, but when I finally finished, a small mountain of gear sat in the middle of the living room, and my mind was back to work.

  Ben and Leo had done well. There was a selection of clothing for each of us, several weeks’ worth of non-perishable food, enough equipment for me to
set up a small communication center, and plenty of firepower. They’d even packed my favorite sniper rifle.

  “There she is!” I pulled the case over to me, pulled the zipper open, and flipped back the cover. I ran my loving hand along the jet black barrel and down the stock, reveling in the strength and power at my fingertips. I always knew where I stood with this weapon, and I never said the wrong thing to it. My rifle responded unfailingly and unflinchingly to my every request—always. It never abandoned me or let me down.

  “Liam?” I heard her hesitant call. “Can you come here for a moment?”

  “Yeah! Be right there!” I reached down and rubbed my right leg before dragging myself down the hall to the call of duty. At the door, I set my hand on the knob and paused. Focus on the job! With a heavy breath, I turned the handle, and a thick cloud of steam rolled out and over me.

  Maggie sat on the stone bench in the shower, half hidden by the frosted glass. “Can you wash my hair, please?”

  Damn it. There was nothing I wanted to do less… or more. The blurry vision of her body through the glass was magnetic. Even if I could have refused her, I couldn’t have refused myself. As I stepped toward the shower, I could almost hear my reservations. Washing a woman’s hair is an intimate experience! It’s bigger than sex! Still, I came to her aid.

  She on the bench, leaning her good shoulder against me as I used the hand held shower head to wet her long red hair. The water ran copper down her back and across the tiles to the shower drain as it washed the dried blood away. My fingers gently combed through it, working the coconut-scented shampoo down to her scalp and along the length of her curls, careful to keep the bubbles away from her wound.

  She made little grunting noises as I massaged her scalp, and I bit my cheek to keep my sanity. “I… uh… I think it’s clean.” I let the water drip from my fingers, and stepped back from her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I think I can do the rest.”

  I beat a hasty retreat, hiding my physical reaction to her naked warmth. This is not a woman I want to get involved with. I reminded myself that Maggie was hot headed and didn’t listen. Up until the bullet in her shoulder, she had been determined to get herself killed. She was a job—a difficult, stubborn, sweet-smelling job.

  I needed to get online, hit the dark web, and start figuring out who was trying to kill her. I had no time to waste on a spoiled little rich girl when there were so many others in the world that really need my unique brand of help. You’re only here as a personal favor to Mason. I could keep myself together if I remembered that.

  Maggie emerged from the bathroom almost an hour later, clean and coconut-scented. Her face was rosy, flushed from the heat. She’d wrapped a towel around her body and another around her hair, an amazing accomplishment with only one good arm.

  My computers hummed merrily, blinking and beeping at me from my newly-assembled command center. Ben had pulled out all the stops, sending me three monitors and an encrypted high-speed satellite connection. It was perfect for our remote location.

  “Liam?”

  Tearing my eyes away from Ben’s most recent message detailing the damages left by yet another attack on Maggie’s trailer, I looked at her over the top of my reading glasses. “Yes?”

  “Where am I sleeping?” She stood barefoot in the doorway, practically swaying on her feet. “I really need a bed.”

  Her hot shower had relaxd her, and she yawned beneath droopy eyes that were ringed in dark circles. Her bandage was damp at the edges, but looked intact. I needed to check it again, but that could wait until the morning. She needed sleep to heal.

  I jumped up from my chair, pulling the glasses off and dropping them on the keyboard. “Yeah. You can have the master. It’s right over here.” I led her down to the last room off the hall. Double doors opened to another glass wall, which looked east to the mountains. A king sized bed dominated the space with a small sitting area and his and hers closets.

  “God, I’m so tired.” She fell into the bed, nearly asleep before her head hit the pillow. I stood there, looking down at her and wondering what to do. Then I lifted her legs up and tucked them under the covers. I pulled the damp towel from her hair and carefully unwrapped the other from around her body. Softly, I pulled the covers over her and left on silent feet.

  Maggie

  I awoke to pain. White hot lightning bolts shot through my body and brought tears to my eyes. “Mother fucking asshole son of donkey rat bastards!” I shrieked, trying to work through the agony. Everything hurt.

  “Good morning to you too!” Liam stood in the doorway, staring at me with a cup of steaming coffee in each hand.

  I clutched the sheet to my chin with my one good arm. “My shoulder is on fire!”

  He chuckled as he walked toward me and set one thick crockery mug on the nightstand. “Let me take a look. I probably need to change the bandage. You don’t want it to get infected.”

  “Don’t touch me.” I tried to inch away, but my shoulder screamed in protest the instant I moved.

  He looked around. “You see anyone else who can do it?”

  “No.” I glared at him. God, he was an annoying man. He had all the answers, was always telling me what to do.

  “Okay, then. Come on.” He waved a hand at me. “Drop the sheet and let me see.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Seriously, I just need to see your shoulder. We’ll find you some clothes after that.”

  I scowled, but slowly released the sheet. Liam removed the big bandage, peeling it up to expose the inflamed wound. The edges were crusty and ragged. A clear liquid seeped from the center, and the area around it was bruised and hot to the touch.

  “Shit. I was afraid of that.” He gently felt around the edges. “It’s getting infected. I’ll be right back.” He stood up and walked out of the room, leaving me naked on the bed with a hole in my shoulder.

  Seconds later, he returned with a big canvas bag. “You need antibiotics.” He sat on the edge of the bed and dug through his supplies. “Here, take these.” He helped me sit up, and I scooted back to lean against the headboard. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

  “No.” I swallowed the two pills with a glorious first sip of coffee. My mouth tasted like a sewer, and my teeth were fuzzy. The coffee hid my dragon breath, I hoped.

  “You want pain meds?” the crazy man asked. He really was insane. The whole thing was nuts—the stalker, the cabin in the woods, the friggin gun shot in my shoulder, the madman in black cargo pants. What has happened to my life?

  “Absofuckinglootely.” I demanded between sips of hot coffee, my palm extended.

  “Hah! Here.” He handed me two round white pills, which I downed immediately, not caring that I burned my tongue. “Keep drinking the coffee. I’m going to put a clean bandage on front and back. You’re lucky it went all the way through and didn’t hit anything important.”

  “My shoulder is important.”

  “Less than you’d think,” he said.

  “That’s a big hole.” I looked down as he worked. “Should you stitch it up or something?”

  “I don’t think so. You want it to heal from the inside out. We need to let it drain.” I sipped my coffee quietly while he squeezed something into the hole and then taped new gauze pads on. “That should do it. We’ll check it twice a day. You ready to get up?”

  “Yes, please.” I hated that I was dependent on him. I was a success in a cut-throat industry. I made my own decisions, and I worked damn hard to rise above my competition. Being reduced to an injured, clingy female hurt my sensibilities. No matter how cute his butt was, I just wanted to go back to the life I’d worked so hard for. I just wanted him go away and leave me alone.

  I needed to talk to Julie. She would know what to do. I couldn’t even imagine how mad she was about what this would do to the tour. She had worked damned hard to get me where I was, and there I went and fucked things up again.

  Chapter Thirteen

>   Liam

  Dry and dressed, Maggie wandered barefoot into the kitchen in search of more coffee. She was a trooper. I’d expected a lot more whining and complaining from a celebrity like her. A gunshot was nothing to sneeze at. I had seen hardened men three times her size brought to their knees from the pain. Not her, though.

  “Hungry?” I asked.

  “No thanks. This is the earliest I’ve been up in years.” Coffee cup in her good hand, she wandered out to the porch and settled into one of the padded Adirondack chairs I’d dragged out of storage while she was in the shower. She faced the sun as it began to peek up over the horizon and bathed the valley in a golden light. Wrapped in a thick wool blanket, she watched the sky as the steam from her third cup of coffee rose in little swirls into the crisp morning air.

  I walked past the open door leading to the porch and stopped to listen. She was singing, running through vocal exercises. I remembered learning the same routine in an ill-fated chorus class I was forced to endure way back in middle school.

  I could see the pain etched in her face. Deep grooves rested between her eyebrows and bracketed her mouth. Her lovely eyes were dark and hollow. Despite it all, she sat there with her eyes closed and her head resting on the back of the chair as she harmonized with the universe.

  I came back and leaned against the door jam, transfixed by the beauty of her voice. She normally sang a mix of rock and pop, surrounded by backup singers and musical instruments. Here, she was accompanying nature, singing acapella in the open air with no other sound marring the perfection of her voice. She sang a lonely ballad, one wishing for love.

  Her voice lifted, weaving in and out of the words to old standards before she switched to a song I hadn’t heard before. The words were haunting, speaking of a dangerous love. I could not breathe, his love smothered me. A love that did nothing but cause pain. Crushed, my heart quivered in pain. And another love, the love she was searching for. Out of the blue, love found me. A strong love that would build her up. He was my rock.