Liam: Lost Breed MC Series, Book 10

by Parker, Ali

  Nobody was quite as disappointed as Sabian, who looked like a deflated balloon behind Ryder’s chair. Clearly, he’d wanted the beer to explode all over me. Again.

  “Sorry you didn’t get your kicks this time,” I said to the older MC member.

  Sabian shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. You’re gullible as hell. I’m sure I’ll be privy to another show.” He lifted his beer as if in cheers to Owen, who did the same.

  “Assholes.”

  They laughed.

  “It’s karma,” Jax said, nodding in my direction.

  I felt my eyes widen in surprise. “Karma? What the hell did I do? Nobody spilled anything in Owen’s precious baby. And yeah, okay, I brought it home a little late, but I brought it back in one piece. No scratches. No vomit. Squeaky clean.”

  “It smelled like French fries,” Owen said.

  “For a day,” I retorted.

  Jax rolled his eyes. “Shut up. No. Karma for lying.”

  I stared at him. “Lying? I didn’t lie.”

  “To the girl,” he said, leaning back to drape one arm over the back of his chair. He blinked slowly at me like he was talking to someone with a few fried brain cells. “She still doesn’t know who you are. And you’re leading her on. So, karma.”

  “Oh,” I said lamely.

  The other men in the room were quiet, but all eyes were on me. I didn’t like it. Yet again, I felt like the kid brother who’d made a mistake and was now about to be chastised by all his older, wiser siblings.

  I wasn’t interested.

  “Look,” I said, glancing around the room at all of them. “I know you guys don’t agree with how I’m going about this thing with Genevieve.”

  “This thing?” Ryder asked, an amused expression washing over his features.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  A couple of others in the room chuckled.

  “What the fuck guys?” I asked, looking around at them imploringly.

  What the hell was so funny?

  Sabian sighed and pushed himself off the wall. “There’s no ‘thing’ with Genevieve, pipsqueak. Not until she knows the truth. Then if she sticks around, sure, you can call it ‘a thing’. Until then? It’s nothing.”

  It wasn’t nothing. They didn’t understand. They didn’t see what it was like when we were together. They couldn’t feel what it was like.

  “I’m going to tell her,” I said firmly. “When the time is right, I’m going to tell her everything.”

  “And what idea do you have in your head about the right time?” Owen asked, cocking his head to the side.

  “I’ll know it when it happens,” I said.

  Owen shook his head at me. “That’s a kid’s answer.”

  “Get bent,” I growled. I was sick of being treated like the eighteen-year-old in the room. I was just as capable as they were. I’d been through the wringer just like them. Lost people just like them. Saw death. Just like them.

  Gotten blood on my hands.

  Aiden shifted on the sofa. “Liam, we’re just concerned about you leading her astray. A woman like that has a lot of power. Hell, anyone with her bank account has a lot of power. You don’t know what you could be tangling yourself up in.”

  “She’s a good person.”

  “Even more reason to be wary of her,” Aiden said. “Good people don’t look at guys like you and me and see someone like them. Someone good. They see riffraff. Trouble. Prison time.”

  “That’s not us,” I said.

  “No, it’s not,” Aiden agreed. “But you’re taking her chance away to see us in the right light. The longer you wait to tell her the truth, the worse it’s going to look that you hid it from her.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek and hated that he was right.

  Deep down, I knew they were all right. That was why they were pushing me like this. They were concerned.

  But fuck. All I was asking for was a bit more time. Not months. Nothing like that. Just a bit more time to figure out what this was between me and the lady in white before I jumped the gun and ruined the best thing that ever happened to me with my big mouth.

  “You need to have more faith in me,” I said. “I can handle this.”

  “You’re playing with fire, Liam,” Ryder said.

  I shot him a dark look. “You’re the one who hitched your wagon to an NYPD Detective.”

  The room was suddenly thick with tension. Then Ryder cracked a smile and drained his beer. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re right.”

  “Any regrets?” I pushed.

  Ryder narrowed his eyes at me. “No.”

  I lifted my chin and looked around at all of them. “I know you’re just looking out for me. But you don’t have to. I’m playing it safe. And I will tell her.”

  The mood in the room had shifted.

  The Lost Breed’s weren’t on board with me keeping secrets from Genevieve London. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t like it either. Probably because I liked her so much and what we had was real.

  My dishonesty wasn’t right. It was selfish. And a little manipulative.

  When Genevieve found out the truth, she might turn tail and run. She’d be smart to do so.

  And I’d be in her rearview mirror, dusting myself off and trying to figure out how to get back to normal life after her.

  And probably having a shit ton of beer cans explode on me for the next three decades.

  Karma.

  Chapter 16

  Genevieve

  My Jimmy Choos clicked on the pale linoleum floors outside the meeting room as I paced back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  “You’re going to do great in there,” Liam said encouragingly.

  He was sitting in one of the black leather chairs the receptionist, Kelly, had walked us to when we arrived for my meeting with several city council members this morning. Kelly was a tightly wound woman with a blunt bob, sharp eyeliner, and a pep in her step. She took her job very seriously, and my pacing seemed to be agitating her from where she sat behind her desk a good thirty feet away.

  “I’m so nervous,” I muttered, running my sweaty palms down my tight white business skirt.

  I was trying to make a good impression with these people, so I’d dressed the part: business skirt, pointed-toe white pumps (with a red sole, of course, for a bit of flair), and a long-sleeved flowing white blouse that I’d tucked in and tied off with a white belt adorned in a classy gold buckle.

  Despite looking the part, I didn’t feel the part at all.

  I was about to walk into a room full of mostly men, and I would have to convince them that giving me the approval to build my own women’s shelter from the ground up was a good idea.

  Me. A twenty-four-year-old.

  And if my age wasn’t a giant red score in the cons column, my gender was.

  The odds were stacked against me, and the only solace I had was the dark-haired stud sitting in the black leather chair watching me pace back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  “Seriously, Genevieve. Sit down. Your feet must be killing you.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t sit. If I sit, I’ll throw up.”

  Liam chuckled and then gave me an apologetic look. “I’m not laughing at you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Promise. I’m just… I’m amused. I’m sorry. But look at it this way. It’s pretty cool to have something you care this much about, right? Something you’re willing to stick your neck out for like this. Do you think your mom would have been nervous if she was the one taking this step?”

  That gave me pause. I stopped pacing and stared at him. “Yes. I think she would be.”

  “Then give yourself a little leeway. You’re killing it. The people in that room are going to see that too. They have to.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll beat
them up.”

  It was my turn to laugh. My giggle made him smile, which eased my mind and my anxious belly for approximately fifteen seconds. Then I was back to pacing.

  The boardroom door opened with an ominous click. A man in a navy business suit with salt and pepper hair poked his head out into the waiting room. “Miss London? We’ll see you now.”

  I gave him the best smile I could muster before turning toward Liam. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”

  Liam stood casually, adjusted his jacket, and came to me to gently rest his hand in the small of my back. He leaned in close. “You’ve got this. I’m going to be there the whole time, cheering you on. Just like you practiced. Don’t let them put you in a corner. Be yourself, and this will all work out in your favor. Trust me.”

  His words gave me enough confidence to march forward, chin held high, shoulders back, and walk right through the office door.

  Then I was confronted with the room of city officials.

  Gulp.

  They looked at me with emotionless expressions. I told myself their boredom was justified, not personal. If I had to sit in a room as plain as this for eight hours a day and pore over tedious proposals, I’d probably look just as sullen.

  Or I’d throw myself out the window and be done with it.

  I cleared my throat and forced a smile. “Good morning, everyone. I appreciate all of you taking the time out of your busy day to sit and talk with me. It’s been a long time coming.”

  That last bit was a jab. Call me petty, but these people had been avoiding my calls and emails for weeks.

  Probably months by this point.

  Nobody in the room said a word.

  So I cleared my throat, pulled out the USB from my purse, brought it over to the laptop on the table connected to the projector shooting a big square of light on the far wall, and pushed it into the USB slot. The whole room vibrated with silence.

  I looked up at them as I clicked through the prompts to open the presentation I’d put together. “How’s everyone’s morning going?”

  A couple of people shuffled papers in front of them and avoided making eye contact with me, while others, the bolder ones, stared placidly back at me and kept their mouths firmly shut.

  “That good, huh?” I mused. “Well, my morning has been pretty good. The sun is shining. And I’m here. Where I’ve been trying to get to for months. I’m not going to waste your time showing you something you don’t need. I’m going to spend the next twenty minutes showing you my designs. They’ve all been approved by contractors and builders alike. After the tedious part is over, I’ll present you the benefits of my shelter and why New York City desperately needs it. If you still have objections, we can discuss them at the end of the presentation. But keep in mind what you’d be objecting to. Safe housing for women fleeing from homes where they are abused and mistreated. Children, too. I know how easy it is to say no. Believe me. But this is something you will want to say yes to. Your decision in this room will impact so many lives for the better. And when all is said and done, that’s something you can be proud to have had a hand in.”

  I wasn’t sure if my opening speech resonated with them or not. They continued staring at me. Out of fifteen members, there were three women. One of them gave me a nod that might have meant “get on with it” or “you’ve got this.” I really wasn’t sure.

  I decided to take the more positive one and launched into my presentation.

  I hammered them with hard-hitting stats and showed proof of my words. I showed them the conditions of the shelters compared to the shelter—the home—I wanted to build and offer women. I showed them documents and blueprints and every scrap of evidence I had that proved I was worthy of this contract.

  And the women of New York City were worthy of a safe place like my shelter.

  When I finished the presentation, I turned off the laptop and looked eagerly around the room. Their opinions of me no longer mattered. Talking about my shelter ignited a fire in me that could not be put out by their narrow minds or shallow opinions.

  I was here to win this.

  “So,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Any questions?”

  Not a word was spoken for at least a minute. Then I locked eyes with the man at the far end of the table, directly in front of me. He was in his fifties, maybe early sixties. He had shocking white hair that might have been fake and was slicked neatly back. His gray suit was perfectly tailored, and he looked more like he belonged in the office of a big enterprise than he did a city council room.

  He stroked his chin. “Miss London.” He paused for dramatic effect. I could already fill in everything he wasn’t saying just by the undertones of his voice. He wasn’t impressed. “It seems to me like you just want to build something glamorous. I don’t say this to offend—there’s nothing wrong with that—but is that really what these women need? Nicer lighting?”

  I blinked at him, reeling under his sheer lack of substance. “Lighting?”

  He nodded at me.

  And then I didn’t know what came over me, but I started laughing.

  It wasn’t the sort of laugh I could stifle, either. This was full-blown, rib-aching, can’t-breathe, eye-watering laughter. The whole room stared at me like I was a crazy person. And maybe I was.

  But fuck him.

  “Lighting,” I said again in an attempt to get myself under control. I hadn’t even realized I was shaking my head. “No, sir. This is not about lighting. The fact that that is what you decided to pull out of my presentation and use against me speaks more to your intentions, not mine. I want to build a sanctuary. A home. A safe place. And yes, better lighting is required.” I planted both hands firmly on the desk and splayed my fingers out wide. “Flickering fluorescent lights down long windowless hallways will not be acceptable at my shelter. I can do better. We can do better.”

  He stared back at me like a dog shackled to a post.

  I ignored him and looked around the room. “Listen. I know you guys have a lot on your plates, and you don’t care about this as much as I do. I understand. But if there is one thing to take away from this meeting, it is that I am not asking for much. You sit here and treat me and evade me like I’m begging for you to fork out money and time and energy. I am funding this myself. For the women of this city. For those of us who aren’t fortunate. For those who just need a helping fucking hand. All I need from you is signatures and approvals. That’s all. You’d be fools not to jump at an opportunity like this. Fools with no compassion and no regard for your own neighbors.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Liam.

  His eyes were bright, his jaw set, and his shoulders squared. He gave me a nod.

  I turned back to the room. “So what do you say? Are you going to stop this from going forward, or are you going to give me the chance to make a positive change?”

  The man at the far end, the jerk, looked around at everyone sitting at the table. They looked back at him. Not a one of them said a word.

  Then he sighed and met my gaze. “You have our approval, Miss London.”

  My mind spun.

  “Really?” I blinked.

  He chuckled and nodded before pushing himself away from the table. “Yes. You’re right. Saying yes costs us nothing. And I suspect if we said no, you’d just be banging down our doors in another six weeks.”

  I grinned. “Probably.”

  He walked along the back of the table and came to shake my hand. “Best of luck.”

  After the boardroom cleared out and my head stopped spinning, I was able to process what had just happened.

  I turned toward Liam, the only other person in the room with me, and let out a delighted squeal.

  Liam laughed and rushed forward, scooping me up in his arms and twirling me in a circle as I giggled, carefree and gleeful in my victory. I cupped the back of his neck and gazed down at him. “We did it.”

  “We?” he asked, puzzled. “We didn’t do shit. You did it. Solo. I had chills.”

&
nbsp; I bit my bottom lip as he set me down and searched his dark, deep eyes.

  This man. What was it about this man?

  “Are you busy tonight?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Come with me to my uncle’s for dinner? I want you to meet him.”

  “The infamous uncle?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Liam nodded. “Count me in. I can’t wait to see you give him the good news.”

  “He might cry,” I cautioned with a soft laugh.

  It was true. Uncle Tom had been by my side through this whole thing. We’d both put our sweat and tears into this dream. And now it was happening.

  Yep.

  He was going to cry.

  Chapter 17

  Liam

  I’d gotten lucky today.

  Genevieve hired a personal driver to take us to her board meeting that morning, so I didn’t have to worry about what vehicle I was bringing and whether or not I had to try to borrow Owen’s truck again. I was sure he’d say yes if I asked, but he wouldn’t let me off the hook easily. He’d harass me and give me that brooding, disapproving look of his from beneath his brows.

  And he’d be right to do so.

  But I was able to avoid all that. Genevieve’s driver, Harry, was parked in the lot of the corner store she and I had just popped into to pick up a bottle of wine to bring to her uncle’s.

  I had no clue what I was looking for when it came to wine, so I stood back and watched Genevieve do her thing. She perused the aisles and studied the labels with pursed lips and a concentrated expression.

  “I don’t know if we should get red or white.” She sighed, pressing the tip of her index finger to the middle of her full bottom lip. I wished it could be my finger instead. Dreams of our night together still caught me off guard every night and at least a handful of times during my waking hours. She had a body that was made to be not easily forgotten. And the things she could do with it…

  Genevieve spun toward me and held up two bottles. One red, one white. “Which do you think?”