by RC Boldt
Concern lines my tone. “Are you sure you’ll be okay driving?”
“I’ve gone without sleep for longer. I’ll be fine.”
With my cheek against the seat and my hand cradled in his, I decide to close my eyes for a moment.
His thumb skims back and forth languidly over the top of my hand, and my body relaxes. It’s only when I’m nearly pulled under by sleep that his words replay in my mind. “I’m sorry, too.”
For some inexplicable reason, they stand out, but I can’t quite pinpoint why.
“Sleep, Alex.” Liam’s softly spoken words float over me, and the sensation of him pressing another kiss to my hand, our fingers still linked, eliminates any lingering tension.
Before sleep overtakes me completely, my final thought is that I need to forge the bravery to confess—especially with the unknown ahead of us.
I need to tell Liam that I love him.
Chapter 53
LIAM
At least a shred of my good luck remains, and I’m grateful as hell for it. I haul ass down roads with nearly nonexistent traffic and make it to the house in record time.
Christ, I’m so tired. It’ll take all my energy to drag myself inside. I fucking hate that I’m bringing shit to his doorstep, but he’s the only one I can trust at this point.
Pulling up to the gated entrance, I roll down my window and stare into the small, discreet circle of the camera’s eye above the keypad.
Even though it’s an ungodly hour, he doesn’t delay.
Saint’s gravelly voice emits from the small speaker. “Well, if it ain’t the King himself.”
He always sounded like he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day yet never touched the shit. Hell, not only did he refuse to put anything in or on his body that wasn’t organic or pure, but he was the only other guy who never got his rocks off on going to titty bars or watching porn.
Hence his nickname, Saint. He was never tempted by anything, it seemed.
I’m hoping that still remains true.
Just as I’m about to offer a brief explanation, he beats me to it. “Get your ass inside. Quick.”
As soon as the gates start opening, I don’t hesitate in pulling in and up to the house’s entrance where two light fixtures glow, flanking the front door.
By the time I draw to a stop and park, Saint’s already on the front step in a pair of athletic shorts and nothing else.
I ease myself from the vehicle and survey him carefully over the car’s roof, leaving my door open just in case. “I know there’s a bounty out for us, but—”
With a deep scowl, he crosses his arms. “Get the fuck in here already.” His eyes flit to the passenger side before returning to me. “I don’t give a shit about the bounty.”
“Ghost sure did.”
He grunts. “He was a cocky motherfucker always looking out for himself.” Leveling me with an assessing look, he tips his head in the direction of his house. “Get inside before you fall over. You look like shit.”
Then he turns around and heads inside the house, leaving the door open.
I peer inside the car to find a mussed Alex, a slight imprint from the seat on her cheek. “Everything okay?” Hesitance and concern bleed from her tone.
“Yeah. Let’s get inside.”
A moment later, we haul our bags in, and Saint leads us to the far end of the house.
“This is the spare bedroom.” He winks at me, his expression otherwise completely placid. “Don’t have to worry about noise levels since I’m clear on the other end. And”—he raps his knuckles lightly against the wall—“these babies are soundproof and bulletproof.”
Alex’s eyes widen, but she quickly recovers with a quiet, “Thank you for letting us stay here.”
His gaze sharpens on her. “No thanks necessary. It’s what friends do.” His eyes lift to meet mine as if to silently emphasize his point.
I reach out a hand, and he grasps it, tugging me in for a quick back-thumping hug before backing away.
Hand on the door, he edges over the threshold. “Help yourself to anything you need. What’s mine is yours. We’ll talk after you’re rested.”
I nod. “Appreciate it.”
He pulls the door shut behind him with a near-silent click. I turn to Alex, snagging her wrist. “Shower time.”
“God, yes,” she says on an exhale.
After we shuck our clothes and step inside the alcove shower with multiple showerheads, some of my tension finally ebbs. My limbs are heavy, and the warm water induces its own brand of lethargy.
When Alex begins washing my back, I have to brace my hands against the tile wall. “Fuck…that feels good.” Even my words emerge sounding drowsy, her hands moving over my body in smooth, soothing movements.
Once she’s ensured my entire body is clean, she quietly commands, “Tip your head for me.” I acquiesce, and when she shampoos my hair, there’s no way in hell I can suppress a groan. Goddamn, I could get used to this.
Her laugh is muted but echoes softly in the shower, alerting me that I spoke aloud. “Yeah? Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. You don’t have to go without sleep just to get me to do this.”
“That so?”
“Yes. That’s so.”
She rinses my hair, and I muster the energy to peer at her. Hair plastered against her, droplets of water cling to her body. Just when I think she can’t get more beautiful, I’m proven wrong.
“Thank you.”
Those two simple words light up her face, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Leaning my back against the tile, I muster my final reserve of energy. “Come here.”
“But, Liam—”
I tug her closer, cutting off her protest. “Let me.”
Indecision wars on her face, but she must see something in my expression because she whispers, “Okay.”
I shampoo her hair, then use the bodywash on every inch of her. Once she’s rinsed, I turn off the water, and she hands me a towel before grabbing one for herself.
We brush our teeth quickly and crawl into bed, both of us groaning at the feel of the clean sheets.
Once she’s curled up at my side with her cheek resting against my chest, I finally breathe a sigh of relief. For now, at least, I’m granted a reprieve from this shit-show.
I’m nearly asleep when her barely audible voice reaches my ears. At first, I wonder if she’s talking in her sleep.
“I remembered that my father and I used to say, ‘Forever and always’ after we’d say, ‘I love you.’”
I force my body to remain still and my even breathing not to halt because my gut instinct tells me her next words will twist my insides in an even tighter knot.
And I’m proven right.
“Liam…I love you.” Her voice grows even softer. “Forever and always.”
My heart stutters within my chest while I’m torn between agony and elation. The latter wins because I swallow past the burgeoning lump in my throat. I’m the biggest fucking bastard on this earth, but I can’t bring myself to respond. To let her know that I’m not asleep. To let her know I heard her words.
I can’t because it’ll only make it that much harder for both of us in the end.
I’ve never been in love before. Hell, I’ve never let anyone close enough to entertain the prospect.
As if her confession wrenched the last dregs of energy from her, her body relaxes against mine, breath evening out as she succumbs to sleep.
It’s only with this knowledge that I allow myself to voice the words that come from a heart I’ve long thought was cold and dead.
Motherfucking fate hates me. That much I’m convinced of. After everything that I’ve fought against and won, it’s this woman who brings me to my damn knees.
Hushed but raw, my voice sounds like I’m dredging it from some deep, faraway place. “I love you, Alex.”
Forcing the words through a throat that feels like thousands of daggers ferociously slice the inside, I whisper, “Forever and always.”
&nbs
p; No matter what happens…even when you end up hating me.
Chapter 54
LIAM
Early dawn light ekes past the confines of the window blinds, telling me I slept longer than I would’ve preferred. But, fuck, I was tired as hell.
The warmth of Alex’s body curled against my side has me feeling like I won the fucking lottery of life. In a blink, I can almost imagine a future with her.
Waking up like this every day. Getting to hear her whisper those three words to me all the damn time. And sinking inside her and making her come every goddamn moment I can.
The odds aren’t in my favor—not one bit—but I hold on to that fantasy for a moment, staring down at her in the bed. With her long, dark hair fanning against the pillow, she looks like an angel sprawled on these bedsheets.
An angel who doesn’t realize she’s immersed me further into a hell I’ve never experienced.
This woman is the chink in my armor. Armor that was impenetrable for years.
Carefully easing myself off the bed, I try not to wake her. After brushing my teeth and hair, I drag on a pair of shorts.
When I go to grab the two duffel bags, my eyes snag on Alex’s sleeping form. Before I realize it, I’m at her side.
It’s as if I unleashed something wild and unrestrained last night. Now, after admitting it once, I’m helpless to suppress those three whispered words. “I love you.”
Though she’s still caught in the throes of sleep, a smile graces her lips. That foreign sensation of happiness floods me, but like always, on its heels comes regret.
I force myself to move away and grab my bags, soundlessly pulling the bedroom door shut behind me, leaving my woman undisturbed.
Rooted at the spot, I stare at the closed door for a moment. A strong urge compels me to ignore the rest of this fucking mess and head back inside. To pull her close and wake her up with my mouth on hers. To watch her eyes open slowly and hear her whisper my name.
To hear her tell me she loves me.
I rake a hand down my face and turn, heading down the hall toward Saint’s kitchen. Before I get there, I pass a lone painting on the wall, and it has me drawing to a stop.
A beautiful woman in a wedding dress smiles up at a man in a tux. The abundance of love in her eyes has an invisible fist clenching my throat with a vengeance. An unfamiliar yearning assaults me because the idea of having Alex look at me like that…
Fuck. I swallow hard, but I’m unable to tear my eyes off the painting, staring up at my friend’s greatest loss.
Though he’s stealthy and doesn’t make a sound with his approach, I sense his presence.
My words are hushed. “She was a beautiful bride.”
“That she was.” Grief cloaks his words, but there’s also acceptance there. Much more than the last time I saw him. “Some of my favorite memories happened here. It’s the only reason I kept this place.”
I take a step back, mimicking his pose against the wall opposite the painting. Sofía, his wife, had loved this house from the start. Saint had planned for them to live here and eventually start a family.
An aneurysm that came out of nowhere ruined everything.
There’s been talk—shitty rumors, really—that Saint’s haunted by his dead wife, but I know this man, and that’s not entirely true.
I also know a lot about being haunted.
Saint lost part of his heart the day Sofía died, but if he’s haunted by anything, it’s the life he’d hoped to have with her.
Just like I’m haunted by my end goals that I sure as shit can’t accomplish now that Alex is in my life.
Saint straightens from his slouch against the wall. With a lift of his chin, he gestures to my bags. “I see you brought some goodies. Let’s head down to the basement and get to work.”
We’re seated at the large work table in Saint’s basement, an array of weapons are laid out as we clean and assemble everything, ensuring it’s in working order. A spiral of steam floats up from my coffee while his cup is nearly drained of its contents.
“I’m guessing since she wasn’t hogtied and gagged that you haven’t filled her in on specifics about your previous work.” He tosses me an amused look while he wipes the gun barrel with the cleaning cloth.
I exhale slowly but stay quiet.
He smirks. “Gotta hear the big story behind how you met.”
“What makes you think there’s any story?”
One brow hitches up. “Simple. The King comes barreling up to my front door at an ungodly hour and about two breaths away from collapsing from exhaustion.
“Then he goes around to open the passenger door for his woman, won’t let her out of his sight for two steps, let alone take his hand off her back.” He chuckles softly. “Yeah, you got a better chance of selling ice to an Inuit than getting me to believe there’s no story there.”
My protest is automatic. “Just because—”
“Save it,” he interrupts and sets the cleaned pistol aside before reaching for the next one. “You’ve got that look I never thought I’d see. Sure as hell not from you.”
Silence hangs between us.
“So?” he prompts again. “What’s the story?”
“She washed up on my beach, barely alive.”
Saint goes still, his eyes lifting to mine, gaze sharpening. “Go on.”
I fill him in on the rest, leading up to the most recent showdown with Ghost.
“What’re you planning to do?” he finally asks.
I let out a rough, humorless laugh. “That’s the million-dollar question.”
“Well…” He leans back in his chair. “You’re safe here. Hunker down for the night, get some more rest, and we can plan tomorrow.”
I go still, my gaze stony. “There’s no we in this. I’m not dragging you into it.”
Setting the gun aside, he links his fingers behind his head and leans back in his seat. With an exaggerated frown, he complains, “Don’t be a greedy asshole and save all the fun for yourself.”
When my only response is a grunt of a sigh, he pins me with a sharp stare. “I mean it, King. I never thought I’d see you actually happy.
“If anyone deserves it, you do. You risked your life for far too many worthless bastards like Ghost.” His expression is one of utter disgust. “And then some crazy loser like me.” A pause hangs between us. “After what happened—”
He suddenly stops, his eyes narrowing, raking over me like a fine-toothed comb. His words emerge slowly as if it’s just dawned on him. “She doesn’t know about any of it, does she?”
I clench my teeth so hard my molars begin to ache. “No.”
Dropping his hands to the table, he leans on his forearms and shakes his head slowly. “Christ Almighty, King.”
He stares at me for a long moment before shoving back and scrubbing a hand over his face with a derisive laugh. “You sure don’t make things easy, do you?”
Tossing a thumb in the direction of the stairs leading to where Alex is still asleep, he drops his voice lower, possessing a steely edge. “That woman loves you, regardless of whatever fucked-up shit you’ve got going on.”
I lower my gaze to the ammunition in front of me but remain silent. He’s not wrong. It doesn’t mean I want to hear it, however.
“And you’re fucking crazy about her.” He lets that statement hang between us. “Enough of that. We need to plan on ending this shit once and for all.”
Leaning back in his chair, he kicks his bare feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankles. “I mean, think about it. We’ll be doing the world a favor by eliminating that asshole and his crew.” Leveling me with a stern look, he tacks on, “Then you can get your happily ever after in your Panamanian jungle with the lovely lady upstairs.”
His smirk makes a reappearance. “And if I ever follow in your footsteps and tangle with some arrogant Russians, I’ll know which doctor to call.”
“You better not.”
He gives me a wide, toothy grin. “Which? C
all you? Or tangle with some Russians?”
“Both.”
He knows I’m giving him shit. Saint could pull a stunt like I did and show up in the middle of the night, and I’d drop everything to help him. He’s never made my gut instincts go off—not once.
He chuckles before sobering with a sigh. “You’ve got your work cut out for you. In more ways than one.”
“Don’t I fucking know it.”
Chapter 55
ALEXANDRA
My dreams are a strange amalgamation of my past intertwined with Liam.
“Papa, why can’t I remember what my mother looked like?” My teenage voice is riddled with distress. But, as always, Papa knows how to soothe me. “It’s fuzzy when I try to remember her.”
“Little One… It’s what’s in here”—he taps a finger to the center of his chest—“that truly keeps the memory alive. Remember how it would make you feel when your mother would hold you tight and give you kisses.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners as he peers at me. Taking my hand in his, he sandwiches it between his own. “Someday, Alex, you won’t be able to recall my image from memory.” This time, his mouth quirks up in humor. “And I’m sure you’ll be relieved not to have to remember this old man’s face.”
“Papa,” I admonish.
He sobers quickly. “Though the visual memories may fade, it’s the memories recorded in your heart that mean the most.” With a pause, his eyes grow uncharacteristically misty as his tone softens. “I hope that I earn a tiny place in yours.”
“Oh, Papa.” I launch myself at him and hug him so tightly he lets out a grunt, but his arms wrap around me without any hesitation.
“I love you, Papa,” I whisper to him, not yet relinquishing my hold on him. “You’ll always be in my heart’s memory.”
The smile in his voice is evident when he murmurs, “And you will always be in mine.”