by Zoey Derrick
“Why?” I ask, but before he can answer me someone comes up behind us and I hear the telltale cock of a gun before I see her standing behind Liam.
“Why are you here?” she growls at Liam.
“I just came with my boss,” Liam says looking at me but talking to her.
“Is this really necessary?” I ask.
“Shut up,” she looks over his shoulder at me.
“Listen, lass, we don’t want no trouble.”
“Trouble? You think this is trouble? This is nothing compared to what you’re going to face unless you start talking. Who sent you?”
Pain flits across Liam’s eyes, followed by defeat. “I’m not who you think I am, Livia.”
Liam jumps as the woman behind him presses the gun further into his back. “I am not Livia,” she growls.
“You’re not Sorcha anymore either, Livia.”
“Becca, damn it, my name is Becca.” Tears form in her eyes. “Why are you here, Leo? Did they send you here to find me?”
“Put the gun down and we can talk,” Liam says.
In a flash, she disappears, running around the building before either one of us can go after her. I start running toward her but Liam stops me. “Don’t, let her go.”
“We need to call the cops,” I tell him but he just glares at me. “Are you insane?”
“Listen, she didn’t hurt me, or you, just let it go.”
I shake my head. “Un-fucking-believable.” Just then we are illuminated with headlights as an older model Honda comes around the corner. Liam pushes me out of the way as she drives past us hurriedly. She’s looking straight ahead but it’s obvious she’s crying. “You’re a prick.” I shove him off me and turn toward the car. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Three
What now?
BECCA
Coming home to an empty apartment is not good. Ireland, my roommate and best friend, well, as good of a friend as she can be given the fact I’ve lied to her from day one, is gone.
She left me a note on the counter that said she was going away for the weekend. I fold the note up and take a lighter to it, burning it in the sink before running water over it and washing it down the drain. Fuck her.
Becca: where are you going?
Ireland: New York
“Fuck!”
Becca: What the hell is in New York?
Ireland: Dyson. He’s flying me out there for the weekend.
Becca: Guess we really do need to talk.
Ireland: When I get home, k?
Becca: K. Don’t get dead.
Of all the fucking places in this godforsaken country she could go, why in the hell does it have to be New York?
I go into my room and slam the door, despite no one being here to hear how pissed off I am. I go straight for my bed and reach underneath it. I quickly find my duffle bag and pull it out. Inside the bag is another small bag and I pull it out, sorting through the stack of passports and IDs I’ve managed to get my hands on over the years and go digging for one I know I haven’t used in Phoenix yet. Once I have it out of the bag, I stuff the rest back inside and then pull out the tattered envelope and check its contents.
“Time to start over,” I mumble to myself before shoving the envelope full of cash into my purse along with the ID and passport. “A hotel for tonight.”
Guilt runs rampant through me as my happy, peaceful world shatters.
* * *
Reese: I guess Ireland isn’t coming tonight.
Becca: So, I heard. Want me to pick you up?
Reese: Nah, I’m good. What time will you be there?
Becca: Doors open at seven.
Reese: See you then.
Reese is more Ireland’s friend than he is mine. I adore him, of course, but he likes to pry into things he shouldn’t mess with, like me. But regardless of that, he’s always been there for Ireland, especially when I couldn’t be. I’ve never been able to handle the overly emotional side of people and these last couple of weeks with Ireland have been trying for me.
Her mom died. It’s sad, and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I don’t know how to deal with that. I was little when my mother died and I don’t remember her. Couple that with the fact that my father betrayed me in the worst way possible and I don’t have much sympathy for missing or lost parents. They’re useless as far as I’m concerned.
If Ireland hadn’t bailed on Reese and me tonight, I wouldn’t be here. I would have bailed myself. Ireland is off in New York with her old new boyfriend – she knew him as a kid. We’d planned to attend this concert months ago. It was supposed to be a fun night out with the three of us, but after the events of the last couple days, I don’t feel like being here. Since we graduated, the three of us haven’t hung out as much. With Reese working and Ireland and I moving, we can never seem to coordinate our schedules. I felt guilty about Ireland not coming, so I came. I owe it to Reese. At least with the music pumping and people having a good time, I can work the corners and stay out of sight, right? Right.
BRYAN
“Hey man, I thought you were leaving tonight?” Tristan asks me as I take a seat at the bar. He’s back there working his magic and his charm. Though it’s not needed.
“I decided to hang around, check out the show. See the bar.” I smile at him as he washes some glasses. “Need a hand back there?”
“Nah, man, we’re good. Just getting ready for the madness to ensue,” he laughs. “What can I get you?”
“Crown, neat.”
“You got it.” He turns for the bottle behind him and more people filter into the bar.
Tonight, one of my good friends is playing Tristan and Cami’s bar in Phoenix and while I originally had no intention of bothering Liam tonight, I realized he needed something to do to keep his mind off that chick from the other night. For the last twenty-four hours, Liam has been on edge and on the phone with one of his buddies. All I could surmise from the conversations is he’s been trying to find out more information about her.
I shake my head, shaking off the memory of what happened. He refuses to tell me what the whole ordeal was about. Instead he ignores me or tells me to forget about it. I have a hard time doing that, and I don’t understand why.
She’s a fucking stripper. I remind myself for the thousandth time since Thursday night.
Imagine that headline.
“Did you and Cami get everything straightened out today?” Tristan asks as he slides my drink across the bar. I take him in for a minute. He’s gorgeous, of course. Who in Hollywood isn’t? He’s got shaggy, dirty blonde hair that makes the girls go crazy for him and a body to match. It’s hard to believe a man of his stature is tending bar at a club in Phoenix, Arizona, but his happiness is evident.
I know it wasn’t always this way, but a couple years ago he met his wife Cami and they have one son, Jaden.
Cami is the owner of Bold International, Inc., a huge Los Angeles based agency that specializes in celebrities, musicians and athlete services. It’s how I ended up with my own personal PR Rep, Raine, who is married to 69 Bottles drummer Dex Harris, when I moved companies a few months ago. I wanted Addison, but Cami insisted it was a conflict of interest given Addison’s blooming music career.
“We did,” I finally answer him. “The tour will start in September and run through early December. We’re also going to work on some dates after the New Year, but she wants to wait and see how these dates shake out.”
“Damn, that’s a long time,” he says with a shake of his head. “I have no idea how you do it, Bryan. I really don’t.”
I smile wide at him. “For the same reasons you get in front of the camera. It’s a high that never goes away, my friend.”
He holds up a glass, toasting me. “There is that.”
“To the high,” I smirk and we slam back our drinks.
Tristan puts his glass in the sink beneath him as someone calls for his attention. He holds up a finger, indicating for me to give him a minute. I nod and he moves to the
end of the bar.
“Reese, what’s up, brother?” Tristan says to the man he’s helping. They smack their hands together before grabbing thumbs. I imagine there’d be a chest bump in there somewhere if the bar wasn’t between them.
“Not much, you ready for tonight?”
Tristan snorts, “You know it. What can I get you?”
“Malibu-”
“She’s here?” Tristan cuts him off to ask.
“Yeah man, Ireland was supposed to be here too, but someone whisked her away to New York.” Reese cocks an eyebrow at Tristan. “So it’s me and her.”
“Alright, I’ll let the other bartenders know.”
“Thanks, man.” Reese smiles. “I’ll have the Pina and an amaretto sour.”
“You got it,” Tristan says before coming back in front of me.
“I should ask you what that was all about,” I jest.
Tristan snorts a laugh and goes about making Reese’s drinks. “Nothing really. We have a regular who comes in here and likes to get drunk. She’s a friend of a friend, so we keep a close eye on her. The bartenders know to lighten her drinks. Despite that, she manages to get drunk anyway.”
“So why not kick her out, permanently?”
“Because, she’s not disruptive, just…” He looks up, looks around, then his eyes meet mine before he leans in and whispers, “She usually ends up going home with some random guy. More often than not, when we leave for the night, her car is the last one in the lot.”
I nod my head in understanding before Tristan slides me another Crown and goes to hand Reese his drinks.
I sit at the bar people watching while Tristan continues filling drink orders until the doors finally open onto the back patio. Reese returned one more time for a refill before then. I never got a glimpse of who he’s here with. I was hoping to find out who I should steer clear of before the concert began but I never caught sight of her.
BECCA
“Want to come home with me?” I shudder. The guy I’ve been dancing with for the last few songs has been putting the moves on me hard. I can’t say I blame him, I look hot tonight. Even Reese lost his jaw when he saw me.
“It’ll cost ya,” I tell the guy.
“You’re a hooker.”
I roll my eyes. “No, I’m an escort,” I retort.
‘How much?” Is he serious? This dude doesn’t have three nickels to rub together.
“Two-hundred.”
“Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and leads me from the patio and into the bar area where he deposits what’s left of his drink on a high-top before leading me out the front door.
“I’m serious,” I tell him.
“I have no doubt you are. Still taking you home.”
That evil chill of commitment slides up my spine, but I dutifully follow the nicely dressed, hair is too perfect man to his Infinity. Not what I expected from him, but it works. Maybe he does have the money. “I don’t take credit cards.” For the first time in my life, I find myself trying to work my way out of a transaction and I don’t understand why.
“I have cash,” he says as he opens the door to his car and I slide in.
LIAM
“You good here?” I ask Bryan.
“Yeah, where you going?”
“I need to go check on something. Will you be alright to get back to the hotel?”
“Of course, but what the hell is going on with you?” he urges. He’s been pestering me since last night at the strip club and I’ve yet to explain it all to him and it pisses me off. Some stories are better left told when they are resolved or by the person they belong to in the first place.
I saw the look in his eyes when he saw her. It wasn’t a look of hunger but one of desire and longing. There is something about that girl that has Bryan entranced and I know that feeling.
“I’ll explain, soon, I promise, but right now, I need to handle something.”
He grabs my arm. “You do realize I’m the one paying you for protection, right? Not her.”
I pull my arm from his grasp. “Understood, sir.” He scowls at me. “This is something that goes back to my days in the Bureau and I just need to see that she’s alright.”
“Then go. But damn it, Liam, you better figure out how to explain this to me or I will have you removed. I can’t have you distracted by some old piece of ass you-”
I cut him off with a growl. “She is not some piece of ass, Bryan. She’s a protected witness.”
His eyes widen slightly but they soften with understanding. “Get out of here,” he breathes but his voice is stern. I don’t argue with him as I go chasing after her and the man she left with.
When I make it to the parking lot, they are just climbing into a silver Infinity and I race toward the rented SUV and climb inside, turning the engine over and powering off the headlights. The car pulls out of the lot.
I watch them carefully for direction before I pull out behind them and follow them down the street. They’re oblivious to my presence and when we come to the first light, he pulls into the turning lane.
I flip on my headlights, pretending like I forgot them and pull up behind them. The road we are on has several other cars on it so it shouldn’t be too suspicious and I hope to fall back.
The light changes and he makes a U-Turn before heading back south. I follow behind him but keep my distance and a slightly slower pace. The cars that had gotten stopped behind me catch up and I’m lost in them, increasing my pace and never losing sight of the car she’s in.
After ten minutes we’re pulling up to a house and he parks the car in the driveway. I drive past them, down the street and turn. I keep going until I’m out of sight before swinging around, killing the headlights and parking where I can see them getting out of the car. Once they are inside, I pull around the corner and in front of a house a couple houses down, giving me a better view of the house and an easier chance at seeing her leave.
I sit… and I wait.
After about an hour of sitting there, Bryan texted me that he’d returned to the hotel.
Another hour after that a cab showed up in front of the house. I quickly jot down the medallion number before she comes out and gets into the back of the cab. Her hair is pulled up and her make-up is a little disheveled, confirming my theory. I shake my head.
“Why, Livia?” I ask myself as I watch the cab spin around before leaving the neighborhood and I follow them. This time I don’t keep my distance. I stay close. The likelihood she’s paying attention is slim. Then again, she knew the cops were tailing her all those years ago.
“What are we doing here?” Livia asks me. Her eyes scared and confused.
“We need to talk,” I tell her.
“We have nothing to talk about. But you do know that Fat Tony…”
“Fuck him,” I spat before turning away from her in frustration. “Don’t worry, you’ll leave here with money.”
“You? You’re my ‘date’ for tonight?” The disdain I hear in her voice is evident.
“More or less, but I have no intention of-”
“Why not?” she interrupts before she slides the straps of her dress off her shoulders and it falls to the floor. My cock grows hard in an instant. She’s fucking gorgeous, too fucking skinny but gorgeous as fuck.
“Put it on.”
She shakes her head, her brown hair flying around. “If I don’t do this, Tony will know.”
“Fuck him.” I reach into my back pocket and pull my wallet out and grab two large ones and set them on the credenza near me. “You’ll go back with your money.”
“So if you don’t want to fuck me, what exactly are we doing here, Leo?”
“We need to talk, but you need to put your clothes back on first.”
“No,” she refuses and sits on the edge of the bed. My breathing falters and my eyes inadvertently roam over her body. Her nipples are tight pebbles atop her gorgeous C-cups. They’re a beautiful brown tone and it makes my mouth water. She’s watching me and she tries
to seduce me by spreading her legs for me to view her naked pussy. The nub of her clit peaks out between her bare lips.
“Jesus, Livia.”
She panics, her body goes into motion, closing her legs and scooting back onto the bed, curling around herself. “How…?” She doesn’t finish and I instantly realize my mistake.
The memory of that first night, the night I lied through my teeth to help her see and understand that she could trust me, she needed to trust me. My lie wasn’t entirely a lie, but I never shared the fact I was an FBI Agent, undercover. Instead, I spun the web of lies I’d found myself in over the course of the three years I’d been inside Vito Ricci’s organization.
I told her Vito was not happy with Tony’s way of running things so he sent me in to figure shit out and I needed Livia’s help. And help me she did. Through her I could gather enough intel to help the Bureau take down the organization, but first, I’d had to help Livia.
We pull up to a hotel, one that’s…wait a minute; this is the same hotel where Bryan is staying. Why is she here?
I park my car in front of the Valet and hop out, tossing him the keys and my room number before running inside after her. She heads straight for the elevators and I follow her, keeping my distance as she punches the button.
A million and one questions are going through my mind, the biggest one being whether she’s here to see someone, a client.
She steps inside and I wait a moment before darting toward it, catching it before it closes all the way. I slip inside and look over at her. She’s not paying attention to me, not in the slightest, but just as the doors are about to close, she bolts for it.
I grab her around her waist and cover her mouth. “Livia, relax.”
She does instantly and the doors close. We start upward toward whatever floor she pushed.