Liam: Branded Brothers

by Raen Smith

  “You got a couple minutes?” Liam asked, putting his arm around Paul’s shoulder.

  “Sure. I’m going to finish this rep and then I’ll meet you at the cafe,” Paul said. “But I only have about twenty minutes before I have to get back to work. Development doesn’t wait.”

  “See you there in a couple of minutes. I’m Liam by the way and this is Charla,” Liam said. As they turned to go, he added, “And if you want to get some added work in, you should squeeze on the way up and lower slowly.”

  “Got it.” Paul shot them a smile before lifting the dumbbells back up.

  ***

  “So that’s it,” Liam finished, leaning back into the leather chair across from Paul.

  “You’re telling me that Paul is not my real name?” he asked, sputtering out some of his whey-protein drink.

  “That’s what I think,” Liam replied. “But there’s only one way to find out. Your parents still alive?”

  “My mom is,” he said. “But she’s never told me anything about my biological parents. I don’t think she knows.”

  “She probably doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t know your real name. She might have changed it,” Liam said, propping his elbows on his knees again. “Maybe she just had a preference for Paul. Are you an only child?”

  “Yeah,” he said, sliding his glass on the coffee table between them. “My parents always wanted a kid of their own, but couldn’t have one so they adopted me. My dad traveled around the world when I was growing up, so they didn’t want to have more. It was me and my mom a lot.”

  “You think she would tell you the truth?” Liam asked.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Paul said. “I’ll talk to her tonight.”

  “Well, I was thinking you might want to come to my place tonight,” Liam said. “I have someone coming over that might have some answers to our questions. Ronan is going to be there, so you’ll have a chance to meet him as well. I live above the Dirty Leprechaun.”

  Charla shot Liam an incredulous look. Paul seemed like the last guy that should get involved with hunting down an Irish mafia drug lord. There was no way this guy had come close to even holding a gun.

  “I’ve heard of the place,” he said, nodding his head. Charla was sure he was lying. She guessed Paul didn’t go out at night because he was pecking away at his computer. He turned to Charla, “Is Jill going to be there?”

  “Sorry to break it to you, but Jill’s getting married next month. You never saw the ring?”

  “Guess not.” He laughed and turned toward Liam. “So, who’s this guy with all the answers?”

  “His name is Jerry,” Liam replied.

  “He’s a bondsman,” Charla added, emphasizing the last word.

  “A BONDSMAN?” Paul asked, stretching forward so far to the edge of his seat she thought he was going to fall off the chair.

  “Yeah,” Liam sighed, shooting her a sideways look of contempt. “He’s a good guy, and he knew Jack.”

  “How do you know Jerry?” Paul asked.

  “Liam’s a bounty hunter,” Charla replied for him.

  “A BOUNTY HUNTER?”

  “Keep it down.” Liam motioned his hands down while looking around the room.

  “A bounty hunter,” Paul repeated in disbelief as he hit the armrests. “God damn, this day is turning out to be all right. I’ve always wanted a little more excitement in my life.”

  “You’re telling me you can’t buy excitement with your millions of dollars?” Charla asked.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess you could…”

  “You ever shoot a gun?” Liam asked.

  “Just a BB gun back in middle school,” he replied with a smile. “Does that count?”

  Liam ran his hand through his hair before getting up. “That’s what I thought.”

  “I’ll still see you at five above the Dirty Leprechaun, right?” Paul asked, shooting up in the chair.

  “See you at five,” Liam replied, taking Charla’s hand. “And keep the BB gun at home.”

  ***

  With her bag slung over her shoulder, Charla sat on the curb with the Copper Leaf Hotel behind her and watched Liam jog across the street. He’d dropped her Corolla off a few blocks over in a residential area. She wasn’t sure if the man had seen her car or had taken note of her license plate, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.

  She admired Liam as he walked toward her through the parking lot - the way his broad shoulders cut into a V near his waist and the way his arms flexed with every swing. She could see how he was able to coerce his clients. He moved like he wouldn’t take shit from anybody. She hoped like hell it was enough against the mafia.

  The mafia.

  She couldn’t believe the words were even floating in her head. How had she come to this point? Two weeks ago, she was reminding a man with Alzheimer’s to put on his pants and to stay away from the stove. She was making his coffee and holding his hand. Had she known Jack’s death was going to bring her face-to-face with the mafia, she never would have answered his ad. But that also would mean she would have never met Liam. At least there was a silver lining in this whole ordeal. She sighed and stood up.

  “All good?” she asked.

  “All good,” he confirmed, handing her the keys. He scanned the parking lot and then put his arm around her waist, guiding her to the side entrance of the hotel. “Car’s on Park Street. It should be good for a while. At least for as long as we need it to be. We’ll get him in the next twenty-four hours.”

  “God, I hope so,” she replied, walking through the door as he held it for her. “I don’t know how long I can handle this shit.”

  “Second floor.” He pointed to the stairs. “Wanted to get off ground level.”

  “Whatever you think.” She walked up the stairs first, feeling Liam’s eyes on her again. She stopped and turned to see him dart his eyes up to meet hers at the last second. “I see what you’re doing now with this whole taking the stairs thing.”

  “Safety,” he replied with a smile. “It’s safer to be off the ground level.”

  “Sure it is.” She laughed and continued walking, giving her hips an extra shake. He reached out and put his hand on her hip, letting out a low sound from the back of his throat.

  “You can’t keep doing this to me,” he complained as they hit the landing and ventured down the hallway to their room.

  “I’m not doing anything.” She shook her head and leaned against the wall as Liam slid the card into the door.

  “After you.” He held the door open as she ducked underneath his arm. She wasn’t used to having the door opened for her all the time; it was another thing she could definitely get used to with Liam. She threw her bag on the only bed in the room.

  “I see you opted for the king-sized bed only,” she said playfully. “Any reason for that?”

  “It’s a stakeout room,” he replied, the door clicking shut behind them. He walked to the window, surveyed the view of The Blarney Stone across the street, and then closed the curtains with a quick sweep. “We didn’t need an extra bed.”

  “I thought I was staying here,” she said, flicking on a lamp.

  “I changed my mind.” He walked toward her, his face illuminated by the light. “We’re both staying at my place tonight.”

  “Then why are we here?” she asked, her breath caught in her throat as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight into him. She grazed her fingers along his chest.

  “I wanted to check out the view to make sure we could see the bar. I want to be set for tonight,” he said, lowering his hand onto her butt. He gave it a light squeeze.

  “So, are you set?” she breathed, moving her hands to his lower back. She could feel the ridges beneath his shirt.

  “Not yet, one last thing to do,” he said as he bent down and pressed his lips into hers. They moved their lips against each other frantically, the heat passing between them with passionate kisses. He pulled her in ti
ghter, their bodies pressed against each other as he explored her mouth.

  She let out a soft moan before pulling away just enough to whisper, “I have to shower.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll join you.”

  She lifted up his shirt and ran her fingers along his bare chest, tracing the outlines of his tattoos. He stood there patiently with his hands on her hips, letting her explore the ink. She marveled once again at the artistry and the intricacy of the designs. Then she ran her finger along the edge of his pants, playfully grabbing at his boxer briefs.

  He lifted her shirt over her head and let out a moan at the sight of her lace bra. He played with the straps, tucking his fingers beneath them and pulling them down. He kissed the tops of her breasts lightly at first and then faster, running his tongue along the top of her bra. She unhooked it for him, feeling her nipples harden with the graze of his tongue. Then he pulled at her jean shorts, unbuttoning and tugging them gently down over her hips. He moaned and gently squeezed her bare ass.

  “You didn’t tell me you weren’t wearing any underwear,” he accused.

  “You never asked,” she replied with a smile. Then they were both tugging at his pants and underwear until they were both standing naked in the room, their clothes piled beneath their feet. He dug into his pants and retrieved a condom. Then they pressed against each other, kissing, while they moved slowly into the bathroom. He tossed the condom on the vanity to take full advantage of both hands. He pressed her against the door, running his hands all along her skin, touching every sensitive spot. She moaned when he lifted her up and grabbed her legs. Then she wrapped them around his waist, her body aching for him.

  “Charla,” he groaned, pressing himself against her.

  “The shower,” she whispered. He begrudgingly lowered her legs, pressed his lips against hers one last time, and then moved to turn on the shower. The shower head spurted with water as he hurried back to her and bent down to swallow her lips again. He picked her up gently and moved her into the shower just as steam began to form around the head.

  The hot water splashed against Charla’s skin as Liam ran his fingers along her slick breasts. He pinched her nipples lightly, sending a flood of warmth through her legs. Their lips found each other again, pushing and moving against each other with passion.

  “Charla,” he moaned. “I need you to be mine. All mine.”

  “I’m yours,” she whispered.

  “No one else will lay a finger on you, I promise,” he said, cupping her chin gently. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

  “I know,” she whispered, feeling the comfort of his words wrap around her. “Just tell me what you need me to do. Tell me how I can help you.”

  “Well, right now, I need to be inside of you.” He bent down and met her mouth, their lips wet against each other.

  “I can do that,” she whispered as she reached her hand out of the shower for the condom on the vanity. As she slipped it on, he pressed his hand against the side of the shower and let out another moan. Then he picked her up gently and moved her to the other side of the shower and pressed her back against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and guided him in. He rocked into her, each pulse sending her into deeper pleasure. Charla gasped as he sent waves of pleasure through her body, pulling her deeper inside. He moaned as he let out one last pulse and then rested his forehead against her shoulder.

  The steam swirled around them as she lowered her legs and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

  “Charla…” he said with his eyes closed.

  “I know,” she replied, running her fingers along his chest. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I’m going to get Mickey McGrath and his crew.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

  Chapter 12

  Charla sat on the edge of Liam’s bed and watched him work the lock on the tall black box next to his bed. He swung open the door to reveal an arsenal of weapons set perfectly in their place holders. He reached inside to pull out a black handgun and examined it before setting it down on the bed. Then he pulled out a box of bullets and opened them before setting them next to the gun.

  “You really need all those?” she asked, pulling her leg up on the bed. He laughed. “You sound like Jerry.”

  “So what is that?” She pointed to the handgun on the bed. From what she could tell, it looked similar to the gun the man had at the cottage.

  “This?” He picked up the gun and cradled it in his hand as if he was handling a baby. “This is a Glock 22. It’s my go-to gun. I carry it on every bounty run I do. Most police officers in Blackwell carry something like this because it’s accurate and leaves little mess.”

  She wrapped her arms around her body, shuddering at the thought of the man leaving a little mess of her at the cottage. “I never thought about it that way. You know, leaving a little mess.”

  “It’s just clean,” he replied, his eyes softening as he turned toward her. “Did he have something like this?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” she said softly. “He never took it out of his holster so I’m not exactly sure. I guess they all look the same to me.”

  “Charla, if you want to go in the other room, I understand.” He reached out to put his hand on hers. “You’re probably still shaken up. I know you’re not used to this sort of thing.”

  “I’m fine.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. The fact was that she was far from fine, but being around Liam gave her a sense of comfort she knew she couldn’t find anywhere else. “As long as I don’t have to see those man’s eyes again, I’ll be fine. The sooner this ends, the better, and if it takes that whole slew of guns, then so be it. Hell, I’ll start carrying something if I have to.”

  He cracked a smile. “I’m not going to let you start carrying without any practice, but if you’re interested after all this is over, I’ll definitely be your instructor.”

  “I bet you will.” She leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

  “Is this how you treat all your teachers?” he asked, moving back to the safe.

  “Only the hot ones.” She laughed, thankful for Liam’s ability to distract her from the fact some man threatened to leave her body floating in the lake. She curled up her other leg beneath her body. “So what are all the other ones for if this one is your go-to?”

  “Every gun has a purpose in here.” He ducked his head into the box again. “It just depends on the situation. If I’m going to be in well-populated area, I need something focused and quiet. Something like a nine millimeter. But when it all comes down to it, I need something that is not going to be lethal unless I need it to be. After all, the last thing I want to do is kill someone. I need something that will slow them down and protect me if I need it.”

  Liam bowed his head for a moment as if he was contemplating something. Then he moved off the bed and crouched near the bottom of the box. He reached in and retrieved a black bag. He held it in his lap for a moment before gently tossing it on the bed.

  “What is it?” Charla looked at the lumpy bag next to her, its canvas embedded with a layer of dust.

  He ran his hand through his hair and then stood up, his face serious. He slowly moved toward her until he was standing in front of her.

  “What is it?” she asked again, looking down at the bag. It was definitely old, something that hadn’t been touched in a long time. She glanced back up at Liam, recognizing the pain in his eyes. Her innocent curiosity was quickly replaced with churning in her gut.

  “I trust you,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. She swallowed hard, trying to stay calm. “And I know that you trust me because you came to me instead of the police. If we’re going to get to the bottom of this all, then you need to know what’s in this bag. You need to know what the man in the house was looking for.”

  He let go of her hand and slowly pulled the zipper open. He pulled back the canvas to reveal stacks of cash grouped together with rubber bands.

 
Charla’s breath caught in her throat, her mind unable to process the questions swirling in her head. She reached out and grabbed a stack, thumbing through it. She opened her mouth, the words just a whisper as she held up the money, “What is this, Liam?”

  “It’s two hundred and fifty grand,” he replied.

  “Two hundred -” she gasped, unable to finish the rest of her thought. She waved the cash in her hand. “Where was this?”

  “In the basement of the cottage.”

  “What do you mean, it was in the basement?” she asked, her voice straining. “How did you…”

  “Charla, you have to understand, I never meant to hurt you, and I never meant for you to get wrapped up in this. I didn’t know this was going to happen. If I did, I never would have asked you to come back here in the first place. I would have told you to get the hell out of town and never look back.” He sat next to her and reached out for her hand, but she pulled it away. “You have to believe me.”

  “Liam, how did you get this money? How did you know it was there?” she asked slowly, the sinking feeling in her stomach growing with each passing second.

  “The letter,” he replied, getting up and pulling a dresser drawer open. He lifted up a few shirts and grabbed the envelope beneath it. He slid it open, pulled out the letter, and handed it to her. “It’s in here. Jack told me where it was.”

  She took the letter, her eyes scanning over the letters and words, unable to process the information written. The blue ink was a blur. She shook her head and handed it back to him. “I don’t understand. When did you get it?”

  “I’m not proud, Charla, that I didn’t tell you right away. I should have, but I didn’t know if I could trust you. I didn’t know what it all meant,” he said. “Hell, I didn’t know Jack was really in the mafia. I suspected something, but that? I mean, there’s no way I could have known.”

  “When did you get the bag, Liam?” she asked again, trying to steady her voice.

  “I came back to the cottage the night I first met you,” he said, lowering his eyes.