WASHED AWAY

by RC Boldt

  Exhaling slowly, I stare down at myself where small bits of glass have stuck to my knees and shins. Where blood from a dead man now nearly touches my toes. Tremors continue to wrack my body.

  “I was so scared for you. And it’s all my fault and—” My breath hitches before the rest of my words emerges louder, my tone bordering on hysterical. “I don’t even know why!”

  It’s only when he moves into my line of sight that I lift my gaze. A hint of surprise lines his expression, but it gives way to a more tender, thoughtful one.

  With a quick swipe of his hand, he shoves aside any shattered glass residing on the nearby chair. It’s now splintered and marred from bullets, yet somehow, it’s remained intact.

  Large palms gently bracket my hips, and he lifts me, setting me on the cushion. Bending down in front of me, he carefully places his hands on my thighs. His callused palms are warm against my chilled flesh.

  His tone is husky. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” My voice sounds thin and weak, and God, I despise it.

  His simple touch has emotions I’ve suppressed battering against my remaining barrier until they give way. Unable to filter my thoughts and words any longer, they come out in a barrage.

  “I thought I was going to lose you.” Unshed tears burn my eyes, and I pinch them closed in embarrassment. “I don’t even know why they were here for me.” Tears spill down my cheeks, and I keep my eyes closed, unable to meet his gaze.

  He probably hates me now—as he should.

  His hands cradle my face, thumbs rasping over my cheeks to wipe away my tears. “Look at me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Alex, look at me.” When he tacks on the gentle, “Please,” I finally brave a look at him.

  His eyes study me with a deep intensity. “You don’t have any idea why they were here?”

  “No.” I force the single word from a tight throat filled with fear and guilt because I almost got this man killed tonight. The man whose touch soothes me in a way I’m unable to describe.

  When he takes one of my hands and presses a kiss to my palm, my heart stutters in my chest. “I’m so sorry, Liam.”

  His voice sounds oddly thick and gravelly. “What’re you sorry for?”

  “For being pathetic.”

  A sound rumbles deep in his chest, and he presses his lips to my hand again. “You just helped me kill one of the men who tried to kill us. It’s not an everyday occurrence, and it’s not the least bit pathetic.”

  My voice is thick with remorse. “But I could’ve warned you. I just didn’t think…”

  Entire body tensing, his tone turns cautious. “Warned me, how?”

  I ease back slightly to peer up at him. His features are taut, expression lined with suspicion.

  “That man came here a few days ago. He asked for you while you were out. At the time, I didn’t think it was anything to bother you with, but now this happened.” I swallow hard past the growing lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry, Liam.”

  The stiffness in his muscles eases a fraction, and he doesn’t relinquish his gentle hold of my hand. Outside, the torrent of rain seems to ease as if it’s somehow in tune with what just occurred. Violent and punishing before and now delivering a slow, steady rhythm of rain meant to soothe.

  Rational thought desperately attempts to claw its way through the thick shroud of shock that clings to me. “How did you learn to speak Russian?”

  Not an ounce of hesitation cloaks his response. “I’ve always had a gift for picking up languages, but after traveling to different European countries, I picked up more of it.”

  That would explain a lot. Some medical mission trips land doctors in various locations around the world.

  Liam’s eyes take on a haunted expression. “When he was choking you…” Shaking his head before heaving out a long breath, he gently eases away and straightens. “We need to go.”

  My eyes grow wide. “Go where?”

  A muscle in his jaw flexes, and he rakes a hand through his hair. “It’s not safe here. We need to get on the road.”

  I stare at him, torn because my mind is still frantically trying to process everything that’s transpired.

  “Alex, you have a better chance of staying alive if you’re with me rather than going it alone.” He pauses for a beat. “Because they’re after both of us.”

  Chapter 45

  LIAM

  If I didn’t already have a clue to how fucked I am over her, this proves it.

  The moment that asshole had his arm around her throat and I saw her body go limp while I was fighting off the other Russian beast, every fucking thing inside me broke. It’s as if witnessing that put the final crack in my defenses, causing everything to come crashing down.

  The surge of adrenaline and fury had me twisting the bastard’s head, reveling in the telltale snap before his body slumped in a heap at my feet.

  For the first time, my hands shook, but when Alex’s body went limp in that fucker’s hold, it’d caused him to shift. This enabled me to shoot him in the forehead.

  My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my damn chest just thinking about that moment. Thinking of how close I came to losing her.

  I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the bathroom, ignoring the bite of the small shards of glass beneath my feet. Gently easing her onto the vanity, my fucking hands tremble, and I have to brace them on either side of her before I can start doctoring her wounds.

  Even with the bruise blooming on her neck, her knees and shins embedded with glass, and fuck knows how much glass is stuck in the soles of her feet, she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The stark white T-shirt I’d loaned her last night is now spattered with blood, but it doesn’t detract from her in any way.

  Tremors may still wrack her body, but she’d faced down a killer for me. This badass, brave woman ran into the crosshairs for me.

  It was at that moment I thought I was about to lose her. Regardless of her past and where she came from, she’s changed everything for me.

  Regardless of what plans I made before, there’s no fucking way I can continue on that path.

  I love her. I love the woman with no last name who washed up on my beach. I love the woman who refused to let me try to protect her from those fuckers by myself. The woman who insisted on helping, who jumped into the fray without a second thought.

  The woman who’s distraught about me being in danger. Because she cares about me.

  She might not love me, but it doesn’t matter. She’ll likely never love me. Worse, even though I’m setting myself on a different path, there’s a better chance of her hating me.

  And just like that, my capability to follow through on the promise I made years ago disintegrates before my eyes.

  Fuck. My gut twists itself in a knot because no matter what, in the end, there’s only one certainty.

  And it doesn’t include Alex.

  Chapter 46

  ALEXANDRA

  Ushering me to his older, rugged-looking Land Rover, Liam opens the passenger side door for me.

  An onslaught of ominous premonition sweeps through me as I settle inside the vehicle with his loaned backpack filled with the necessities resting on my lap.

  He slams my door shut before circling the front. Hefting two large duffel bags off the front step of the house, he sets them in the back seat before sliding behind the wheel.

  Cranking the ignition, he pulls away from the house and heads down the long driveway. Quickly parking, he throws open his door and hops out to lock the gate and hang the sign on it, alerting the locals that he’s departed on one of his medical mission trips.

  From the bottom of the gated driveway, an abundance of vegetation obscures the house from view, leaving no indication it’s endured what it has.

  Once back inside the silent confines of the vehicle, he glances at me, the dash lights illuminating his chiseled features. “It’ll be a bit of a drive, so you can catch some sleep if you like.” There�
��s a brief pause. “Or we can talk.”

  Ripples of anxiety still plague me, making sleep sound implausible. “How did you learn to handle a gun?”

  “From my military days, long ago.” He lets out a low grunt and adjusts his seatbelt. “But, aside from that, you’ve seen where I live. Normally, I don’t fear living alone in a secluded area, but I knew it would be stupid not to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.”

  “I’d say tonight fits the definition of a worst-case scenario.”

  His voice is a low rumble. “That it does.”

  A beat of silence passes before he turns the line of questioning to me. “How do you know how to handle a gun?” There’s a brief pause. “Or recognize that I spoke Russian?”

  Weariness battles with frustration, and I heave out a sigh, leaning my head against the window. “I wish I knew.”

  As I let my eyes fall closed, my voice turns softer. “I feel like I’m going through this wearing a blindfold. And everyone else knows what I’m about to touch or run into but can’t give me any warning.”

  As if he, too, is ensnared with confusion, my admission is greeted by nothing aside from the faint sounds of the vehicle’s tires maneuvering along the road.

  I swallow hard, digging deep for a shred of remaining bravery, and loosen my near punishing grip on the backpack in my lap.

  “All I know is, helping to kill those men may haunt me for the rest of my life. But if I had stood by doing nothing and let you die, that would’ve haunted me so much more.”

  Liam navigates the rough backroad with familiar ease. The rocky terrain jostles some of my anxiety free, and I force myself to concentrate on that, using it as a distraction.

  I nearly jerk in surprise when his large palm works my fingers loose from my punishing hold of the backpack. He links our fingers, and the instant our palms touch, the bulk of tension holding me captive eases.

  We don’t speak, each of us lost in our own thoughts, while he drives farther away from Punta Blanca.

  He never once pulls away. He holds my hand in his, our fingers laced tightly as though we’re both terrified to let go.

  Seventeen Years Old

  I’ve been terrible at writing in this thing. In my defense, I misplaced it in our last move and just now found it in one of my bins.

  Today, I turned seventeen years old, and it felt…a bit weird, I suppose. So much has changed, yet so much has stayed the same.

  I’m still pretty much a loner, but I’m good with it. It doesn’t really bother me anymore. It’s not that I don’t like people, but that I can’t trust the average person—just like Papa. There’s too much at risk, and I refuse to put him in danger, especially after all he’s done for me.

  The exciting and intimidating news is that I’m going to college soon! I took the entrance exam for the special accelerated program they have that combines both the bachelor’s and master’s degree in forensic accounting, and I’m confident I’ll get in.

  Even though Papa basically forged my transcripts, it isn’t like I slacked off and didn’t learn anything these past nine years. Heck, I probably know more than the average seventeen-year-old at this point.

  Wow, that sounded disgustingly arrogant. What I mean is, I’ve been doing college work for a while now, so I should be a shoo-in for that program. I’m really excited about it and am looking forward to that next stage of my life.

  A few weeks ago, I was having one of those days where I was just…in a funk and sadness was clinging to me.

  I didn’t mention it to Papa because I would never want to hurt his feelings, but lately, I wish my mom were around. Just so I could commiserate with her over stupid things like the annoying bloating that happens during my period and the way Papa insists he doesn’t have his own unique time of the month (I swear, he really does!). It’s pointless to wish these things. I know this. But it sure would be nice.

  I can’t admit this to Papa because he’d feel guilty, and I don’t want that. He’s done so much for me and given me so many opportunities I never would’ve had. He protects me like I’m some famous queen or princess, and I never want him to think I’m not appreciative or that I’m disrespecting all that he’s put in to raising me.

  As I said, it was just one of those days, and I didn’t give an explanation for my funk. But Papa’s intuitive and so intelligent that I think he had an idea of what was bothering me.

  He suggested that I take a long, hot shower or soak in a hot bath. When I asked him why, what he said has stuck with me ever since:

  Sometimes, water can wash away grief to reveal a new, unvarnished version of yourself. Never be afraid to let that grief get washed away, Little One. Because in its absence will be something you will come to cherish.

  He was right, as he usually is, and I felt better afterward. Rejuvenated, in a way. Like I just needed to give in to my grief at that particular time and recognize it, so it didn’t fester inside me.

  Anyway… I feel kind of weird writing it, but Mom, if you’re still watching over me and reading this, I wish you were here so the three of us could be a family. I know it’s not possible, but there are times when I close my eyes and try to imagine it, and well, it’s pretty amazing when I do.

  Papa’s the best dad I’ve ever had, and even though all those terrible things happened that day, I can’t regret them. Because then he would’ve never found me.

  He’s a good man, and he always encourages me to remember you. To remember the good times.

  Oh, and I’ve gotten him to the expert level at giving hugs now. It’s pretty awesome.

  Love you, Mom. Forever and always.

  Chapter 47

  LIAM

  Two hours into the drive, she’s fallen asleep. Hell, it’s like I lulled her into it once I took her hand in mine.

  Christ, I’m so fucked. She’d looked so small and vulnerable sitting in that passenger seat, clutching that backpack as if her life depended on it. Short of cutting off my own arm, there wasn’t much I could do to resist reaching for her.

  She needed me. And, shit…it’s been far too long since anyone’s actually needed me.

  My phone suddenly vibrates with an incoming call. Glancing over at her and ensuring she hasn’t roused, I ease my hand from hers and pull my phone from my pocket.

  Mentally noting the time on my vehicle’s clock, I know when I need to end this call.

  I keep my tone hushed so as not to disturb her, and my voice is like cold steel. “Who the fuck dares to bring shit to my goddamn door? What happened to courtesy?”

  The man makes a derisive sound. “Times have changed, my friend. Especially since you killed my men.” He pauses, his voice dripping with nefarious intent. “There’s a price on both your heads now.”

  “What the fuck?” I grit out from between clenched teeth. My hand clenches the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn stark white.

  “Yours for harboring her, of course.” He hums as if he finds this all so fucking amusing. “Did you really think you were exempt, Dr. King?” He chuckles darkly. “That the rules don’t apply to you?”

  I end the call before they can worm their way past the cloaking I have on this phone. I don’t delude myself into thinking they don’t have some genius-level nerd behind the scenes trying to track my whereabouts.

  I’ll have to go to one of the places I haven’t been in years. One of two that are still untouched.

  I drag a hand through my hair, wishing I had tied it back beforehand. It’ll have to wait, though. This stretch of road might be paved, but it winds along the coast with sharp enough curves to necessitate signs with Peligro and Despacio, indicating the danger and need to reduce speed.

  Exhaustion begins to trickle in, but I push harder, eventually navigating my way through the small, unpatrolled border crossing into Colombia with grateful ease.

  Once I top off the gas tank at the station with a sleeping beauty beside me, I turn onto the stretch of road that’s not frequented by policia and won’t be as tr
eacherous. This way, I can cut travel time by increasing my speed.

  Alex finally wakes once I get us into Chocó, along the Caribbean coast of Colombia.

  Blinking her eyes open, she straightens in her seat with a jerk. “I’m so sorry.” She runs a hand over her hair. “I slept forever and didn’t even help you drive.”

  “You can’t legally drive.”

  Her shoulders slump. “Shit. You’re right.” She peers at me while I concentrate on the road. “Still. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I toss her a glance. “We’re almost there anyway.”

  She heaves out a long sigh. “Thank goodness.” With curiosity brimming from her voice, she asks, “Where are we going?”

  I debate on how much to disclose, finally going with, “I have a place nearby that I haven’t been to in…a while. I bought it a long time ago when I was younger.”

  When I thought I’d escaped this life and the hell that came with it.

  When I pull up to the gated property barricaded by thick, imposing stone, I feel the weight of her curious stare.

  I punch in the code and wait for the gates to unlock and draw open. Once my house comes into view, Alex sucks in a sharp breath.

  “Oh, wow…” The appreciation in her tone sends an odd sense of male satisfaction coursing through me. Because this is all mine, from hard work that nearly eviscerated everything good in my life.

  Now that I’ve gotten myself twisted in that shit all over again, I can’t help but wonder if history really does repeat itself, as they say.

  Worse than that is the prospect that it will again take the life of someone I love.

  The woman beside me.

  Chapter 48

  ALEXANDRA