by L. A. Fiore
Fear flashed across her face and she turned for the door. I was faster. Fisting her hair, I dragged her to a chair and pushed her into it. Terror widened her eyes. She stuttered when she asked, “What do you want?”
I pulled out my tool set and unrolled it. She gasped then sobbed. I reached for one of my knives, touching the razor sharp tip to my finger. It happened so fast she didn’t have time to react; the blade was so sharp she didn’t feel the cut until it started to bleed down her cheek in the same place she’d scarred Lizzie. Shaking fingers lifted to the wound. She pissed herself.
“I’ll make this really simple. Forget you ever knew Lizzie Danton.” Understanding shined in those eyes. “You go after her for what happened earlier…” I pinched her broken nose and twisted it. She screamed. I shoved a gag in her mouth. Her eyes bugged out as panic had her body convulsing. I leaned into her and she went stone still. “They’ll never find your body.”
Satisfied I’d made my point, I collected my tools and slipped out the same way I slipped in.
“I’m sorry, sir, I tried to stop him.”
“I’m going to have to call you back.” Rodney Danton ended his call then looked past me to his bewildered receptionist. “It’s fine, Elsie.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lizzie had his eyes. He stood and walked around his desk. He was older than I was expecting, but he wore power like he wore that expensive Italian suit. I had to give Norah a bit more credit because playing this man…that had taken some impressive skill. I wanted to gauge Norah’s response to her dreams going up in smoke. It was smart to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Brochan McIntyre.”
“May I ask why you’re barging into my office?”
“Norah Calhoun.”
I recognized the look since it was the same one I had when thinking of the bitch.
“How do you know Norah?”
“I know Lizzie.”
He wasn’t able to hide his reaction when his eyes widened. “You know Lizzie?”
“You squashed the suit.”
Surprise this time but he answered, “I did.”
“How did she take it?”
His brow rose. “What makes you think I know?”
“Let’s not fuck around. A man like you gets an opportunity to stick it to a woman like her, you’re going to take it. How did she react?”
“She wasn’t happy.”
“Do you think she’s capable of coming after Lizzie?”
“Norah is a more behind the scenes type, though…” He grew thoughtful for a minute. “She made a comment before she hung up that I didn’t like, not just the words but the venom behind them.”
“What did she say?”
“That she should have smothered Elizabeth.”
Red-hot rage flooded me. That fucking… “Coming from a woman like Norah, I think that’s a reason to be alarmed.”
“What do you need from me?”
He may not have been a father to Lizzie when she was younger, but at least he was willing to take on some responsibility now. “It might be smart to get eyes on Norah.”
“Done.”
“You bought Lizzie’s painting.”
“Who are you to her?”
“Long story for another time.”
He didn’t like being the one questioned. Tough shit. “Yes, I bought her painting.”
“She’s your daughter, maybe it’s time you got off your ass and started acting like a father.” I was done here. I headed for the door.
He called after me, “How do you know she’ll want anything to do with me?”
“I don’t, but you owe it to her to make the effort.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LIZZIE
“I wish you had been there. I’ll probably get sued, lose all of my worldly possessions, but I don’t care. It felt so good.” Cait and I were having lunch following my meeting with Harrison.
“People were filming it?” she asked before she lowered her fork and picked up her phone. It was her super power, navigating her phone. Not a minute later, she turned her phone to me and there I was, live and in color, punching Nadine in the face.
“Play it again.”
“Man, you really socked it to her. I bet that did feel good, but unless she’s a complete twit you are definitely getting sued. She has proof.”
“Whatever. Harrison set up my work as a LLC. She can sue but only my personal assets; all of my money is tied up in my paintings. She won’t get much.”
“Smart.”
“That was all Harrison.”
“We’re going out tonight.”
“We are?”
“Yes. I want to get dressed up and go somewhere with alcohol and dancing.”
“Why?”
“Because Ethan is out of town and I want to party.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She then reached for her bag and pulled out a folder. “You haven’t had a showing in a while, so here are your options.”
I smiled at Cait being Cait and then we spent the rest of lunch deciding which gallery would feature my next show.
Cait arrived as I was finishing getting dressed. “There’s wine on the counter if you want a glass,” I called.
“Do you want one?”
“Yeah. I’ll be right out.”
I finished with my hair, spread some gloss on my lips and grabbed my clutch. Cait held out a glass to me. She looked sexy in her fire engine red dress.
I whistled. “Where did you get that?”
“Ethan. It’s my way of including him tonight.” She took a sip of wine. “I needed this. I’ve been crampy all day…totally premenstrual.”
My glass stopped halfway to my mouth. I hadn’t had my period in a while. I was usually very regular.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
“What’s the date?”
“October ninth, why?”
It had been well over a month since I left Scotland. I lowered my glass as my hand unconsciously moved to my belly as the most profound feeling filled me. “I’m late.”
Cait looked from my face to my stomach. “How late?”
“Enough.”
Her glass came down on the counter with a bang. “Before we get crazy, let’s make sure. I’ll run down the street for a kit.”
Before I could answer, she was gone, the door slamming closed behind her.
Cait and I stood in my bathroom staring down at the three pink positive signs. She bought three different brands, just to be sure. Seeing the confirmation that I was pregnant, that I was carrying Brochan’s child, I ran to the toilet and hurled.
“Oh Lizzie.” Cait was there, holding my hair back. “This is a good thing, right?”
“Yes. Definitely yes.” I sat back and wiped at my mouth.
She touched my belly, her eyes filled with wonder. “There’s a baby in here, but I thought you were on the pill?”
“I was, but I forgot to take it once or twice while in Scotland.”
“That’ll do it.”
I was pregnant. I dropped on the stool. The revelation was both thrilling and terrifying. I had to tell Brochan, but dropping a child on him knowing how his own childhood had been, I’d be tethering him to me just like my mother had done to my father. I hadn’t intentionally done it, but I was still binding a man to me who didn’t want to be there. Unlike my mother, this baby would never know a day that he wasn’t loved, deeply and completely. I touched my stomach again. I was going to be a mommy.
Her voice grew soft. “Do you still want to go out?”
“Yes.”
We decided on a little jazz bar. It wasn’t packed body to body and the music was soothing. Cait ordered us both club sodas with lime.
My thoughts were wrapped around the knowledge that I was pregnant. Cait’s question interrupted them, “When are you going to tell Brochan about the baby?”
“Not tel
ling him isn’t an option, but I don’t know when or how. A letter. Hey. How are you? You’re going to be a father. Or better yet a phone call, especially since the man doesn’t usually talk. Sharing he’ll be a father to dead air, that sounds like fun.”
“Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“He didn’t want me in his life, Cait. For whatever reason, he didn’t want me there and now I’m binding him to me. I feel kind of like my mother—”
Cait leaned forward so fast I almost spilled my drink. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to your mother.”
“I’m not. Believe me, but I’m still forcing his hand.”
“Last I checked it takes two to make a baby.”
“You’re right. We’re both equally responsible, but the difference is I want to be with him.”
“Well if he’s foolish enough not to want you and his child in his life, you have Ethan and me.”
Despite being worried, that made me smile. We weren’t your typical family, but we were one all the same. “Auntie Cait and Uncle Ethan. That has a nice ring to it.”
She laughed, “Yes, it does.” She reached across the table. “You won’t be alone, Lizzie. You’re never going to be alone again.”
My eyes stung and I needed to use the bathroom. “I have to pee.”
Cait chuckled, “And so it begins.”
I tossed my cocktail napkin at her. “Clown.”
“I’ll come with you.” She linked her arm with mine. “We need to get those books.”
“What books?”
“You know, the what to expect books?”
I looked over at her. “How do you know about those books?”
“What? I’m getting married. We have thought about children.”
“Auntie Lizzie.”
“Let’s get you through your…” She waved her hand at my stomach “First.”
We reached the hall to the bathrooms. “No lines. Unbelievable,” Cait said. “Upside of coming to a smaller club.”
Someone came up behind us. I was reaching for the door when a hand closed over my mouth and I was jerked back against a hard body. I felt the knife at my throat.
Cait turned but before she could call for help the man snarled, “Scream and she dies.”
“What do you want?”
“Your money. Just the money.” He nodded to Cait. “Collect it.”
I held my purse out. Her hands were trembling as she pulled our money from our wallets. She held it out to our assailant when her eyes moved behind us. I could feel the dude looking around, edgy but more than from fear, like he was on drugs. The tip of the knife pressed into my neck and for a second I thought he was really going to kill me. Then I was free and I didn’t waste time trying to figure out how, I just hurried to Cait; she grabbed me and pulled me close as I looked back at our attacker. I almost rubbed my eyes because I couldn’t be seeing what I was seeing. Brochan had my attacker by the throat, holding him three inches off the floor. What the hell was he doing in New York? And how the hell was he here now?
“Brochan?”
Cait’s head snapped to me. “That’s Brochan?”
We both looked back when we heard the crack as he slammed our attacker’s head into the wall. The man went limp.
“He’s definitely scary. I’m not sure about the sexy yet,” Cait whispered.
It was a jolt when those pale blue eyes landed on me, but I was moving past scared and right into angry. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Making a grand gesture.”
I was sure I hadn’t heard him correctly, but no Cait had the same baffled expression I felt on my face.
“A grand gesture?”
Our attacker stirred, Brochan kicked him in the gut. It was then I noticed the red blooming on his t-shirt. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s a scratch.”
“I’ve never had a scratch bleed that much.” Brochan glared at Cait. “What? I’m just saying.”
Worry for him trumped confusion. “We need to tend that.”
I got a look. Sure, he was a killer and probably got cut all the time, but he was also my baby’s father and damn it he wasn’t going to stand there bleeding. “You have a car?”
“Aye.”
“My place. Now.”
The ride back was silent. Brochan was silent because that was who he was, me I was biting my tongue and Cait was waiting in anticipation for the fireworks to start. Once in my apartment, I headed to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. The door closed behind me. Brochan stood in front of it.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“In your apartment or the States?”
My heart squeezed, both at the memory and that he remembered it too. I shut that shit down. “Both.”
A strange look entered his expression before he offered, “I received a letter from Brianna.”
Even angry, my heart softened remembering the letter she’d left for me.
“She knew I would turn you away.”
“She said that in a letter?”
“Aye.”
“One you received after she died?”
“She’s a witch, remember?”
I did, but the memory only brought an ache. He seemed to realize that when he added, “I had a talk with Fenella, she told me I needed to make a grand gesture.”
I almost laughed not just at the fact that Fenella had offered that advice, but that Brochan actually followed it.”
“So you flew to New York to make a grand gesture?”
“Aye.”
“How long have you been waiting to make this grand gesture?”
“Long enough to know you have absolutely no sense of self preservation.”
“First, ouch, second, did it ever occur to you that just coming to see me was a grand gesture?”
He rolled his eyes heavenward and hissed, “I told her that. She said it had to be grander.”
This momentarily charmed me, the unsure, completely out of his comfort zone, Brochan. It didn’t last though as the memory of our last time together reared its ugly head.
“Why the grand gesture? It was just lust, sweetheart, hot sex.”
He leaned in and dropped his voice. “Now isn’t the time for that conversation.”
There were too many feelings stirred by those words, but he was right. Now wasn’t the time. And grand gesture aside, he’d hurt me. I wasn’t above giving a little of that back. “There isn’t a conversation. That ship sailed.”
It was probably not wise to taunt a killer so I moved past him. “I’ll tend your wound in the kitchen.” I hurried away.
Cait sat at the counter. She was polishing off the bottle of wine we had opened earlier. “That’s a pretty big scratch,” she said, gesturing with her glass at the cut along Brochan’s side.
It wasn’t a scratch. It was deep enough to need stitches. Stubborn bastard wouldn’t go the emergency room. At least he’d let me clean it. I couldn’t even appreciate seeing his beautiful body again because of the blood staining his skin. He didn’t move. The entire time I was disinfecting and washing the blood from his body he stood completely still.
“Are you okay, Lizzie?” Cait asked and then added, “I’ve lived in Manhattan my whole life. That was my first mugging.”
The shock of seeing Brochan had the mugging kind of slipping my mind, which was bizarre because I had been held at knifepoint. “Strangely, I’m fine.”
“Well, you’ve other things on your mind than a pesky two-bit criminal.” She took a sip of her wine. “I missed part of the show when you two were in the bathroom. So what the hell is this about a grand gesture?”
Brochan growled, “That’s the last time I go to Fenella for advice.”
I couldn’t help the grin, mostly for Fenella that he’d come to her. She must have been over the moon.
I glanced up at Brochan. His pale eyes were on me. There was a lot going on behind them.
“I think Brochan and I need to talk.”
“M
y cue to leave.”
“No. Ethan isn’t home and you’re already here. Sleep here tonight. We’ll get a hotel room.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to argue.” Cait put her glass in the sink. I got her some water and walked her to bed. She took my hand before I left. “He’s here, Lizzie and from the sparks flying around, I think he wants to be with you too.”
I kissed her on the head. “Sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.
BROCHAN
Lizzie had been quiet since we left Cait. She kept looking down at her hands. They were clean and yet I knew she was seeing my blood because she’d been rubbing them on her lap as if to wipe it away. “I need a shower. Shit, I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“I’ll buy you some.”
Irritation moved into her expression, annoyed I was taking over after how we left things. Her focus shifted to the floor.
“Lizzie.” I touched her chin and lifted those wounded blue eyes to me. “You’ve had a difficult night. Let me take care of you.”
Her expression softened before she whispered, “Thank you.”
I didn’t like the lost look in her eyes, so I tried to lighten the mood when I asked, “Where does a Scotsman stay when in this big, bad city?” I’d checked out of the last hotel this morning. Nature of my job, I didn’t stay too long in the same place.
Her lips curved into a slight grin. “The Plaza.”
Lizzie was showering when I returned. I knocked. “I have your clothes.”
“You can bring them in.”
The stall was frosted, but her silhouette against the glass had my cock going hard. I wanted to join her. Wanted to wash her back, then her front, then fuck her boneless. Later.
I put the bag on the counter and walked out. She called, “Thank you.”
Detouring to the mini bar, I poured three mini bottles of whisky in a glass then walked to the balcony. Fucker had a knife to her throat. I went cold thinking about what could have happened if I hadn’t been there. Fate teased my neck; I was beginning to wonder if fate went by another name like say, Brianna. And despite how we reconnected—Fenella and her damn grand gestures—Lizzie was here with me. Only a fool would blow the opportunity to atone. I took a sip of the whisky. New York, I liked the crowds, the noise, and the lights. The city that didn’t sleep.