Wicked Pleasure

by Taryn Leigh Taylor

  Liam hooked a wedge of lime on the rim and handed her the completed drink. “Minus one,” he confirmed. “It makes you difficult to impress.”

  “How exasperating for you.”

  “You have no idea.” The slight consternation in his voice tugged at the corner of her lips.

  “You know what the worst part is?” AJ asked, conspiratorially. “I really love champagne.”

  His chuckle was warm and low. “To defying expectations,” he toasted, and she raised her glass so he could clink his bourbon against it.

  AJ closed her eyes as she let the crisp, cold carbonation wash over her tongue. The man knew how to pour a G&T.

  “Shall we?”

  He followed her as she made her way toward the front of the deck, where a couple of cushy striped lounge chairs were set up, along with a fruit tray and a cooler full of bottled water.

  “You’ve certainly taken care of every detail.”

  “Business often goes more smoothly when alcohol and food are in the mix.”

  “Are we doing business?” She took a seat on the lounger. “And here I thought this was a pleasure cruise.”

  “Considering the way you bypassed my security, I figure it’s in my best interest to multitask while you’re here. My team worked for two hours to try and get the library camera back up and running.”

  AJ tried not to let the impressed tone of his deep voice affect her. She didn’t need validation. She didn’t need anybody. She’d been fooled by the warm feeling in her chest before.

  Liam stretched out on the lounger to her right, but his pose was deceptively casual, as evidenced by his first question. “Why did you do it?”

  Intrigued, AJ set her drink on the table between them. “I would think, if I had in fact done something, that your first question would be how did I do it?”

  “How doesn’t really concern me. How is something I can figure out myself. But how doesn’t explain why you showed up at my party.”

  “Why Robin Capucha showed up at your party, you mean.”

  “Potato, po-tah-to.”

  “Says you. But if you can’t prove it, it didn’t happen.”

  Liam pulled his phone out of his pocket and after a couple of swipes, pointed the screen in her direction.

  AJ maintained her best poker face as she watched herself, garbed in a black dress, arrive at the party...apply lipstick before slipping into his office...head up the stairs to the “bathroom” so she could “freshen up.”

  She shot him her best unimpressed look that she hoped he caught, despite her stolen Ray-Bans. “What, no footage of the main event? I would have thought your bedroom would be wired to the hilt.”

  He lowered the screen. “Some things aren’t for my security team’s consumption. Footage like that has a tendency to leak for the right price, no matter how well-vetted the team.”

  The confirmation that she hadn’t missed any cameras during her recon was a nice ego boost. That meant he still had no idea she’d infiltrated his bedroom before he’d invited her inside and they’d gotten all...carnal.

  “Although I could be talked into a home movie if that’s your kink.”

  She ignored the surge of lust in her gut. She would never ever film herself in a compromising position—as Liam had alluded, things could, and did, go way too wrong, way too often—but as far as fantasies went...

  AJ bit her lip at the sexy mental image of watching herself on-screen while Liam—

  “I’d show you some footage of the library around the same time, but it seems to have vanished.”

  Startled by the intrusion of his deep voice, AJ readjusted herself on the chair and pulled her thoughts out of the gutter. “Well, that’s embarrassing, to just lose two hours of tape like that before the camera inexplicably starts working again, as though nothing ever happened.”

  Liam set the phone on the side table, next to his drink. “Quite a mystery.”

  AJ kept her outward appearance of smugness intact—years of practice had made her an expert—but inside, something warm and exciting rushed through her blood. It was the same feeling she used to get before a big hack. The exhilaration that came from testing her mettle against the best in the business. The challenge. The thrill.

  “You know I can make all that mansion security cam footage disappear, right?”

  He shrugged without looking over, a casual challenge. “You can try.”

  AJ pulled off her jacket, draping it over the armrest of her chair before she leaned back and made herself comfortable.

  Yeah. She could definitely get used to this.

  * * *

  “Seriously?” Liam shook his head. “I can’t believe I just ate dinner with an insane person.”

  “I’m just saying that there are inconsistencies.”

  “The moon landing happened.”

  “I didn’t say it didn’t happen,” AJ corrected. “I said some of the photos are suspect—the multiple light sources, the boot print discrepancy, the billowing flag. And how do you explain that they taped over the original recordings of the moon landing? That is sketchy as hell.”

  “You’re being ridiculous right now. Please tell me you know you sound like a kook.”

  “Whatever, dude. You want to pretend the government is all puppies and rainbows so they’ll give you that military fence contract, that’s on you.”

  “Shhh.” Liam leaned forward and caught her mouth in a soft kiss. “They might be listening,” he whispered, before he sprawled out on the double-wide lounger beside hers.

  AJ found herself smiling, and it wasn’t even against her will.

  Fun.

  She’d had fun today.

  Premium liquor and a hand-rolled sushi dinner aboard a multimillion-dollar yacht. Lights sparkling on the water softly lapping against the boat as night fell, turning the sky a deep indigo. Laughing and flirting with a brilliant, handsome man.

  It didn’t take long for her inner pragmatist to ring the alarm bell.

  Whatever this was that was happening between them, it wasn’t real life. It couldn’t last. Perfection never did.

  She didn’t trust Liam. She couldn’t. Her life was littered with proof that her instincts when it came to men were faulty.

  “What just happened?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We just had a nice moment. Almost like you lost track of who was the cat and who was the mouse. And now I can feel you retreating. So what just happened?”

  “Look, I know most women would be impressed by all this romantic shit—” she gestured around her with a careless wave “—but I know better than to believe in shiny stuff. It always turns out too good to be true. And I didn’t lose track. I’m the cat. I survive by landing on my feet. I’m always the cat.”

  Her last foster father had told her multiple times that she had the finesse of a bulldozer, that she had a talent for leaving destruction in her wake. It hadn’t been a compliment, but since he’d only ever said it when he was in full asshole mode, she’d kind of turned it into one in her brain. Her ability to cut through the bullshit was what kept her safe, kept her from trusting the wrong person again.

  “I mean, I had a nice time, but let’s not pretend this is more than what it is.”

  To her surprise, Liam didn’t look offended, merely curious, and so she answered his unspoken question.

  “We’re scratching an itch. I’m playing your willing captive. You’ve squirreled me away like treasure on a pirate ship so you can be sure you’re in control of the situation. Because guys like you get off on that sort of thing.”

  “Guys like me?”

  “Walking clichés. Men who ooze charm and wear deck shoes unironically in their quest to appear rich and powerful.”

  “Says the badass loner with an attitude and a black leather jacket.” Liam cocked an
eyebrow at her. “Way to buck the stereotype. And for the record, I am rich and powerful. And present company aside, I’ve been told I’m very charming.”

  He was. Annoyingly so. “Yeah, well. That’s what they say about con men and serial killers, too. So kudos on the esteemed company you keep.”

  “You have an unhealthy obsession with death, dismemberment and body disposal. Anyone ever told you that?”

  “Awww. Does the big bad tech mogul not like knowing there’s a dark side to life? Sorry I shattered your sparkly illusions.”

  “You obviously have me confused with someone who grew up in the lap of luxury. I didn’t have it quite so good.”

  AJ couldn’t hold back an eye roll. “Oh, Jesus. Is this... Are you giving me your tragic origin story? Am I going to need a tissue for this?”

  Liam’s frown was almost quizzical, like he was trying to decide whether he should be offended or not. “Are you mocking me right now?”

  “A little, yeah. I mean, trust me here. You do not want to go mano a mano with me on the subject of childhood trauma, guy who owns a yacht.”

  “Just because I own a yacht, I don’t get to have a shitty childhood?”

  AJ sighed, and some of the fight went out of her shoulders. “I mean, I guess you can. Just no one wants to hear about it.”

  Liam’s bark of laughter startled her. It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected.

  “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’ll bet about ninety-five percent of yacht owners had a shitty childhood. We’re all just trying to prove our worth.”

  “Okay, I’m in.”

  He shot her a questioning look.

  “Show me what you’ve got. Let’s hear your tale of woe.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “DEAD FATHER.”

  His first volley hit her in the heart. Maybe because Liam Kearney was usually so good at playing the wealthy, sociable man about town, happy to field sly innuendo about his dating life and downright charming when it came time to rhapsodize about Cybercore’s futuristic tech. His only rule with the press was no questions about his family. Early on, a few reporters had made the mistake of pushing. They never got the opportunity to interview him again.

  She covered up the sting with a bland shrug. “Well, who doesn’t have one of those? I see your dead father and raise you a dead mother.”

  “You’re an orphan?” Something crossed Liam’s face; not pity, exactly. She knew, because pity always made her hands ball into fists. It was subtler than that. Some weird hybrid of understanding and not caring that deflated her usual need to puff out her chest and prove herself, because for the first time in her life, the O-word didn’t feel like a weapon. Didn’t make her prepare for battle, for that moment when she had to make up for the inherent weakness of that lifelong hurt by proving she was tough without it.

  “Car accident.” It was the first time she’d ever said the words aloud. Cops had said it to her—“We’re sorry to inform you...”—social workers and foster parents had said it about her—“Poor thing lost both of them...”—but she’d never mentioned it before.

  And then Liam said the most perfect thing anyone had ever said to her upon finding out her parents were dead. “Man, you’re definitely pulling out the big guns.”

  The deftness of the black humor caught her off guard. He’d somehow understood exactly what she needed. And it was disconcerting as hell.

  AJ narrowed her eyes, observing her opponent with new respect. Maybe Liam’s playboy persona didn’t reach all the way to the core. Maybe he knew something about layers, too.

  She lifted her chin. “Damn straight. That’s like, automatic twenty-five-point tragedy bonus, and I’m off to the early lead. I told you you didn’t want a piece of this.”

  He took a sip of his drink. AJ glanced out at the darkness around them, took a deep breath of warm, salty air, let the steady rush of water against the hull calm her. She wanted to know more.

  “How old were you?”

  The question brought Liam’s gaze back from the lights dotting the California shoreline. “Four.”

  She nodded, answering the implied question. “Eight.”

  Liam finished his bourbon. “So clearly I made up some points there, because I was so young that I didn’t even get the chance to know a father’s love.”

  AJ bit her lip to keep from smiling at the challenge. “No way. It’s sad, and I will grant you some general sense of loss points, but I have real memories of my parents, which makes the heartache visceral, because I’m fully aware of what got ripped away from me.”

  “Okay, I underestimated your commitment here.” Liam rolled his shoulders and tipped his head side to side, like a boxer loosening up before a match. “I’m not going to hold back anymore.”

  The trash talk relaxed something in her chest, and she leaned back in her chair. “Bring it, Kearney. I can do this all night.”

  “When I was seven, my mom dropped me off at my grandfather’s and never came back. Turns out, she’d sunk her fake nails into some sugar daddy who already had grown kids and wasn’t looking to commit to a prepackaged family. So she removed ‘mom’ from her bio and continued her quest for the ring. Just left me there and never came back.” His features turned hard and stark in the moonlight. “I waved goodbye to her. I stood there at the door and fucking waved.”

  AJ winced. “That’s cold.”

  “So add some points to my side of the board, because at least neither of your parents abandoned you on purpose.”

  AJ started at the comment. She’d never really thought about it like that. “She just...disappeared? You never saw her again?”

  “When I turned sixteen, I tracked her down. By that time, she’d landed her millionaire and was living a life of Botox and caviar. She fucking lost it when I showed up at her door.” He chuckled, but it held no humor. “Bypassed their shit security system and rang the mansion doorbell.”

  “What happened?”

  “She told me she’d never forgive me if I ruined the good thing she had going for her. And then she offered to pay me a ridiculous sum of money to fuck off forever.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he picked up his glass, pausing with it halfway to his mouth as if noticing for the first time it was empty. He set it back on the table with a bang that felt final. “I hadn’t gone there to blackmail her. I just...”

  Wanted to see her. He didn’t say the words, but he didn’t have to.

  “But I took it. That money paid for college, with enough left over to help me get Cybercore up and running. So I figure I got the better end of the deal.”

  Liam glanced over at her. “How about you? What happened after your parents died?”

  “Seven years in the foster system. Eight different foster families.”

  “Ouch.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. And without swear words.”

  “That bad?”

  “Some were okay. Some were worse. I was so mad all the time that I didn’t care much about the difference. Kept to myself, getting up to no good online, honing my skills. It didn’t take long before I realized computers were where my true talents lay. Came in handy when I left.”

  “You aged out?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “My last home, Glen and Nancy, that was hell on earth.”

  Liam’s jaw tightened as he toyed with his glass again. “What happened?”

  “You know. The usual.”

  AJ got up and wandered over to the railing. She needed to move. The water looked black against the twilight.

  “Glen used to beat the shit out of his wife on a regular basis. I used to hide in the closet, waiting for it to be over, wondering why she didn’t just leave his ass. I was fifteen the first time he was drunk enough to take a swing at me.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  AJ gnawed on her lip, a familiar pri
ckle of guilt burning its way up her spine. “He didn’t make contact. Nancy...” She took a deep breath. “Nancy put herself between us. Took the blow meant for me. She told me to run, and I did.” AJ shrugged. “I grabbed the laptop and Glen’s cell phone and wallet. He used to leave them on his dresser when he got home from work. Then I called 911 and booked it all the way to the bus station. Used the free Wi-Fi at the coffee shop and changed his passwords, withdrew the daily limit from his account at an ATM, and hopped the first bus out of town.”

  She heard Liam approach, and her hands tightened on the railing, but he didn’t touch her.

  “To LA?”

  The question embarrassed her, and she rolled her eyes at her own naivete.

  “My parents took me to Disneyland when I was seven. It was our last family vacation before...” She couldn’t make herself say it again. “California was a no-brainer. I just wanted to go somewhere happy, you know?” Her laugh was self-mocking. “Stupid.”

  “No. Not stupid at all.” He set his hands on the railing, and the side of his palm made the lightest contact with her pinkie. It reminded her of the night before, the intimacy when their hands had touched on the window. AJ didn’t pull away.

  “It was. I learned quick, though. Did what I had to do to survive—some street scams, some dumpster diving. Met a guy. Troy. He took me under his wing in return for my knack with security systems, made me part of his posse. Those gigs paid well, and we started hanging out more. Then all the time. And before I knew it, he’d moved into my place, four years had passed, and I understood. I understood why Nancy hadn’t left.”

  Shit. The back of her throat started to burn, and the inner corners of her eyes prickled. A precursor to the tears she’d so cavalierly mocked.

  “I told the lawyers everything. Took him to court. Being on the witness stand was like getting jabbed in the heart over and over with an ice pick, but I answered all their questions.” Her voice quavered. “I wasn’t going to be like Nancy.”

  Liam pulled her close and then the tears were just spilling out of her, like the whole sordid story that she’d never meant to tell. She couldn’t stop the words. Old anger bubbled to the surface, but it was all tangled up with this weird sense of safety, as though Liam’s hold was a force field where she was safe and the old emotions couldn’t hurt her like they usually did.