His Assignment: Chapters 16-20 (Patreon)

Chapter 16

I happily pop a berry in my mouth as I make my way to the river. It’s been a good hour since I left the cabin, and I hope Liam’s getting worried about me.

My lips curl as the sound of running water reaches my ears, and I hurry forward with a noticeable pep in my step.

I like the thought of Liam being worried about me. I hope he’s pacing back and forth the cabin, his hands clenched into tight fists by his sides as he nervously waits for my return. Would he think I ran away if I was out for too long?

Would he come looking for me?

I took his coat, and I bet he would be cold without it. How long would he search for me? Until his fingers have gone numb and his worried tears have frozen on his cheeks?

I sure hope so.

My smile grows, and I shove my last berry between my lips before sticking my hands into my coat pocket to warm them up. I’m not a fan of this weather, and I’d kill to know where I am. I kept my eyes peeled for any sign or indicator of our location during our one excursion to the laundromat, but I didn’t see anything useful.

I find a sunny spot and plop down on the ground. It’s not too bad in the sun, and I lean against a tree and stare up at the leaves as I waste time. I’m honestly pretty bored, but I want to ensure I stay out long enough to make Liam worry.

It’s a petty thing to do, but I can’t bring myself to care.

There’s just something about Liam that pisses me off, and I enjoy making him angry.

A good hour passes before I can’t wait any longer and push myself to my feet. My butt is numb, and I lean back and stretch my spine before returning to the cabin. I’ve made just enough trips to the river that I’m not too worried about getting lost, and I quicken my pace when I spot the telltale ratty roof through the trees.

This cabin truly is disgusting, and I’m shocked my father chose to send us here. Of all the places in the world, this is what he chooses?

I hold my chin up high as I push open the cabin’s back door and barge inside, but I raise a brow as I look around the room and realize it’s empty. Liam must have gone searching for me.

Idiot.

I kick the door shut and shrug off my coat before heading to the front door to hang it up. I’m sure it won’t take Liam to return, and I will take great pleasure teasing him for his search.

My smile grows as I hang Liam’s coat on the hook, but it falls when I look out the front window and realize Liam’s car is gone.

What the fuck?

I don’t hesitate to pull open the front door and peer outside. Maybe he just moved it to a new spot? My lips purse as I realize that’s not the case.

The fucker is gone.

“Liam?” I call into the woods.

There’s no response.

I don’t understand. Liam’s left before to get groceries, but he’s always been careful to sneak out while I was sleeping. I initially thought it was to prevent me from trying to run away while he was gone, but I realized he likely just wanted to avoid me begging to join him on the trip.

Is that what he’s doing this time? Sneaking out while I’m preoccupied? I’ll kill him.

I’ve more than proven myself at the laundromat. I could have screamed for help and drawn attention at any point during that trip, but I remained silent. I followed his stupid fucking rules, so he doesn’t get to sneak out the second I leave the cabin.

It’s rude.

My anger boils as I storm back inside the cabin and slam the front door shut. I lock the door before doing the same to the back, and I pace the length of the room as I wait for him to return.

Liam’s an absolute fool if he thinks he can sneak away and I won’t have anything to say about it.

An absolute fool.

My eyes continually dart out the front window as I pace, and I resist the urge to scream when an hour passes and he still hasn’t returned. What the fuck is he doing? I’m unsure when he left, but I assume it was right after I did.

He probably didn’t waste time running to his car and making his way to town, and I can’t fathom what he could be doing that’s taking this long.

Whatever it is, though, he should have brought me along. I’m dying for stimulation, and I fear I will lose my fucking mind if I’m stuck in this damned cabin with him for one more day. Liam is a horrible conversationalist, and I desperately need some interaction.

Even if it’s just with a cashier at a grocery store.

I’m sure I’ve worn a path into the wooden floors when Caleb’s car finally pulls up, the black vehicle impossible not to spot.

My lips curl, and I debate my next move as I watch the car slow to a stop. I could try to keep Liam locked out, but the door is flimsy and I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for him to bust it open. Besides, the bathroom is outside and it’s been well-established that I don’t have a huge bladder. It would be easy for Liam to wait me out.

He kills the car engine, and I grind my teeth before storming toward the front door to unlock and rip it open.

“How fucking dare you!” I shout, stepping onto the small front porch. “If I’m going to be stuck in this smelly, dingy little cabin, so are you. I don’t…”

My voice trails off as Liam pushes open his car door and exits, and I take an instinctual step back as I take him in. He’s filthy, his clothing covered in dried mud. I cross my arms over my chest as I eye him, unsure of what I’m seeing.

What the hell did he get himself into?

Liam pulls open his trunk, and I feel my throat go dry as he grabs his duffel bag I know is full of weapons.

I didn’t even realize it was gone, and I step out of the way as he slams his trunk shut and makes his way toward me. My breath catches in my throat as he gets closer, and I spot specks of dried blood on his lower jaw and neck. He clearly tried wiping it away, but he missed a few spots.

Liam avoids eye contact as he enters the cabin and sets his duffel bag on the ground. He kicks it under the bed before lifting his black shirt and pulling a gun out of the waistband of his jeans.

I make an odd noise in the back of my throat, my mind going into overdrive as he sets the gun on top of the fridge where I can’t reach. Why does he have a gun?

“Liam?” I ask.

My voice shakes, exposing the fear I don’t want him to see.

He ignores me and makes his way to the back door. His fingers twitch by his sides as he realizes it’s locked, but he doesn’t comment on it as he switches the latch and pulls open the door. The cabin is freezing from all the in and out, but I hardly notice.

It’s one thing to know Liam hurts people for a living, but it’s another to see physical proof of it. It’s become easy to forget what Liam does when I only ever see the morning stretching, salad-eating, UTI-preventing side of him.

Liam continues to ignore me as he makes his way to the spigot near the outhouse, and I stand by the back door as he strips naked. I watch, my eyes scanning over every inch of his exposed skin in search of injury.

I’m grateful when I find none, Liam’s body is just as healthy as it was this morning.

He tosses his muddy clothes aside before cupping his hands under the spigot to collect water and clean himself. It’s not the most efficient method of bathing, and I watch him for a few seconds before grabbing a small bar of our soap out of the kitchen and bringing it to him.

He glances at me as I approach, and the column of his throat bobs as he grabs the soap from my hand and brings it to his skin.

The caked mud washes off his skin easily enough, but that’s not what holds my attention. I can’t look away from the blood splattered on his neck and jawline. Some is even on his ear.

“Did you kill somebody?” I ask.

Liam doesn’t answer.

“Who was it?” I try again.

He still doesn’t answer.

I shift my weight from foot to foot, unable to bring myself to walk away. Instead, I scan Liam head to toe again, searching him for any injuries. I linger on his knuckles to see if they’re torn up, but the skin is perfectly fine.

I suppose you probably don’t need to use your fists when you have a gun.

Liam rushes to wash, probably because the water is so damn cold, and he ends up using the entire soap bar. I purse my lips, debating saying something about his lack of rationing, before deciding against it. Now’s not the time for that.

For all I know, he might still be on a murderous rampage.

Liam glances at me as he turns off the spigot, and I watch his muscles soften as he takes in my frightened posture. I’ve got my arms crossed firmly over my chest, and I’m strung so tight I’m pretty sure even the slightest breeze could tip me over.

“Katie…” Liam starts, his voice deceptively gentle.

He purses his lips and glances at the sky before shaking his head and running a hand through his wet hair. Water trails down his torso, and the dark tattoos that cover his skin seem even darker than usual in this lighting.

Maybe I’m just noticing them more now.

I wait for Liam to continue speaking, but instead, he shakes his head and returns to the cabin. I follow, unsure what else to do, and watch him grab his clothing bag off the floor and drop it onto the bed.

His movements still seem hurried as he pulls out a gray top and slips it over his head. The fabric sticks to his wet skin, but he hardly seems to notice as he tugs on a pair of underwear and jeans.

That can’t be comfortable.

I clear my throat. “Are you okay?” I ask. This isn’t typical behavior for Liam, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned.

It’s enough for him to leave for who knows how long and return covered in mud and blood with a gun shoved into the waistband of his pants, but his odd behavior and refusal to speak with me is only making the already bad situation worse.

Liam zips up his bag and tosses it near the front door.

“We’re leaving in twenty minutes,” he says.

I jolt, surprised. I was beginning to believe I’d receive the silent treatment for the rest of the day.

Liam glances at my bag of clothes, confirming all my belongings are put away, before tossing my bag near the front door, as well. I lick my lips, glancing between him and our bags in a daze. I don’t understand.

“What’s going on, Liam?” I ask, my voice borderline hysterical.

Am I in danger? My dad’s had me moved into hiding a few times, but nothing has ever come of it. I’m usually stuck in a hotel room with some boring old man for a few days—at most a week or two—before my dad gives the all clear and I’m brought home.

Liam grabs his gun off the top of the fridge and returns it to the waistband of his pants.

I didn’t sign up for this, for any of this, and I don’t want to be a part of it. I just want to go home and paint pretty little pictures and spend my days in an art gallery. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” Liam asks, grabbing the paper bags he saved from his last grocery trip and emptying the pantry.

Without waiting for my answer, he sets the bags on the counter and makes his way to the outhouse to clear it of spiders. I shake my head, struggling to keep up with him, before rushing outside to pee.

I won’t be one of those people who slow down the hurried criminal with endless questions and end up dead. I believe Liam when he says he isn’t going to hurt me, and I bite my tongue as I pee and make my way back inside to help him pack.

There isn’t much to grab, and within less than fifteen minutes, he’s shutting his car trunk and urging me to get into the passenger seat.

“You’re not going to tie me up and throw me in the back this time?” I ask, my voice dry as I get inside his car.

The corners of Liam’s lips twitch before he shakes his head and starts his car. I wait patiently for him to pull out onto the main road before spinning to face him. He avoids looking in my direction, but I know he notices me.

He reaches for the radio, clearly intending to turn it on, but I smack his hand away.

That finally captures his attention, and his gray eyes flash toward me before returning to the road. I was a good girl and followed his lead, but now I want answers.

I deserve to know why I’ve just packed all my things and got into a car heading to another mystery location, and Liam doesn’t get to keep me in the dark when what’s happening so clearly affects me, too.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on, Liam.”

Chapter 17

Liam again reaches for the car radio, and I smack his hand with more juice. My palm stings where it slams into his, but I ignore the burn as he smoothly returns his hand to his steering wheel. He’s pretending my slap didn’t hurt, but I know it did.

I hope it did.

He doesn’t just get to uproot my life for the second time and not offer any explanations. I deserve to know what’s going on.

I look at Liam’s ear, scanning the spots where he was once covered in blood. It’s interesting how he made a pointed effort to try and remove all the blood from his skin before returning to the cabin, but he didn’t bother with the mud. Was he trying to hide it from me?

I would’ve eventually drawn conclusions and figured it out, so I don’t see the point.

“Talk to me, Liam,” I say.

He continues to ignore me, and I grind my teeth and glare daggers into the side of his head.

What’s he thinking? I’d wonder if he’s upset about hurting somebody and needs time to decompress, but I doubt that’s it. Liam didn’t get to where he is in my father’s organization by being scared to kill.

He also wouldn’t have been put in charge of keeping me safe if that were the case.

I push my hair out of my face, the long, auburn strands a wild mess today. I don’t even want to imagine how grown out my roots are right now, and I’m glad my natural hair color is a close enough brown that they don’t stand out too much.

Deciding to change tactics, I reach for Liam’s arm.

The muscle in his jaw flexes as I curl my fingers around his wrist and gently pull his hand away from the steering wheel. I’m surprised he’s letting me do this, and I slowly guide his arm to my lap and set it on my thighs.

His skin is warm, and I look forward as I curl my other hand around his balled fist. Liam is tense, but I hope to lull him into a false sense of security before asking again what happened. Maybe my prodding is putting him on the defense.

I bet that’s it.

If I lead Liam to believe I’m blindly trusting him, then maybe he’ll soften and feel more open to sharing what the fuck is going on.

It’s an excellent idea.

Liam doesn’t pull away as I capture his fist in both of my hands, and I fight with everything I have not to let out a cheer of victory when he loosens his fist just enough that I can slot my fingers between his.

My pulse races as I hold his hand, and I feel my cheeks warming in response to the intimacy of our touch. Which is stupid, considering he was just inside me the other night.

Holding his hand is no big deal, especially when I’m doing it to manipulate him.

Liam’s fingers are rough, but I find I don’t dislike it. Most of the men I’ve dated, and therefore held hands with, have all had soft hands. They typically had pretty comfortable corporate jobs, and their skin reflected that.

It’s clear Liam works with his hands when he’s not babysitting me.

I spot him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I pointedly ignore meeting his gaze as I stare out the front of the car.

His hand gradually softens, and I hate myself for how I find mine doing the same. As much as I hate Liam, I have to admit it feels nice to touch him. I’m starved for intimacy, and as good as the sex we have is, this feels more personal.

My breath hitches when he curls his fingers around mine in a proper handhold. It’s an embarrassing reaction, and one I hope he didn’t catch.

“I don’t want you to think of me as a bad person,” Liam says, breaking the silence.

I slide my tongue over the back of my teeth, debating how to respond. Is my plan working? My lips twitch, and I gently squeeze Liam’s hand before turning in his direction. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he chews at his bottom lip as his eyes dart between me and the road.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he almost looks nervous.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” I admit.

I mean it, too. Liam’s arguably one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met, and I hate him with every fiber of my being, but I don’t think he’s a bad guy.

Liam pulls his hand out of mine, and I gulp as I drop my head and stare at my now-empty lap. His rejection is embarrassing, and I clear my throat before looking out the side window. It was silly to think Liam would want to hold my hand, let alone for an extended period of time.

I shouldn’t even want to hold his hand. Liam’s nothing to me, and he’s made it more than clear I’m nothing beyond a job to him, too.

He flicks on the turn signal and makes a right, and I perk up when I see a sign for Allegheny. We’re in Pennsylvania.

One question answered, only about a thousand more to go.

Liam makes his turn before returning his hand to my lap, and I let out a quiet squeak when the weight of his arm is dropped onto my thighs. Oh? He laces our fingers together, and I hope he can’t feel how clammy my palm has grown.

Neither of us comments on our hand-holding, but I assume it weighs heavily on both of our minds. Is he doing this because he thinks I’m scared and is trying to comfort me? Or is he doing it because he actually wants to hold my hand?

I’d kill to know, but I refuse to embarrass myself by asking.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” I ask.

It’s clear Liam doesn’t respond when I ask him outright questions about what happened and why we’re leaving the cabin, but maybe I can warm him up to that. Talking to Liam is like having anal sex. I can’t just shove my metaphorical penis in his butt; I need to ease him into it. Use some lube and maybe do a bit of fingering beforehand.

I’ll finger Liam better than he’s ever been fingered before.

He shoots me a sideways glance before focusing back on the road.

“No.”

His answer is curt, but I expected it to be and I don’t let myself be bothered by it.

“Can you tell me where we’re going?” I try.

I think asking if he can tell me will have better results than demanding he tells me. Unless Liam decides to blindfold me, I will figure it out eventually as we continue driving. There’s no point in keeping it a secret, and I’ve established I don’t intend to run away.

I probably would if I were closer to home and had any form of money on me, but I don’t, so I won’t.

Liam purses his lips, and I hope that means he’s considering telling me. I’m tired of all the secrecy, and he needs to give me something before I lose my fucking mind.

When Liam lets out a low sigh, I know I’m getting my answer.

“Arkansas,” he says.

I open my mouth, blink, and snap my jaw shut with a quiet click. Arkansas?

“What the fuck is in Arkansas?” I ask.

Liam cracks a smile, the second one I’ve been able to get out of him since he returned from his super secret murder errand, and I wouldn’t say I like how my heart jumps at the sight of it. I’m letting him get under my skin, and I need to distance myself before I do something as stupid as catch feelings.

I tighten my grip on his hand before loosening and attempting to pull away, but Liam latches on and refuses to let me go. His fingers squeeze mine until I stop fighting, and he stops only once I give up.

“That’s the point,” Liam says.

“What?” I lost track of our conversation, his aggressive hand-holding distracting.

“The point of going to Arkansas is that there isn’t much there,” he explains. “We’ll be safe there.”

This is the perfect opportunity to pry for more information, and I tap my feet against the car floor as I debate how I want to phrase my next question. Liam is especially testy right now, and he’s already shown he isn’t going to be respecting my demands for straightforward answers.

I clear my throat. “So we weren’t safe at the cabin?”

My eyes narrow as I watch and evaluate Liam’s every movement. He clenches his jaw before briefly looking away from the road and meeting my gaze. I widen my eyes and drop my chin, trying to look pathetic enough that he feels bad and answers me, but Liam doesn’t seem keen to fall victim to my attempt as he raises a brow and turns forward.

“We’re going to leave my car in the parking lot just up there,” he says, changing the subject as he gestures to the large grocery store up ahead. “There’s a bus stop about a half mile from here, and we’ll take that to the train station.”

I roll my eyes. He must be joking if he thinks we’ll be carrying our things a half mile. Our bags are heavy, and my limp noodle arms aren’t equipped for that level of exercise.

“That seems like a lot of work when we could just drive to the train station,” I say.

Liam turns into the grocery store lot and pulls his car into an open spot near the back. He removes his hand from my lap so he can put the car in park and turn off the car.

In true Liam fashion, he ignores my statement and exits the car. I hesitate, debating whether or not I want to argue this, before deciding I do and following him out of the vehicle.

“I thought we were supposed to remain inconspicuous? Walking through the streets of some random town with three giant duffel bags and a paper bag of groceries will surely draw attention,” I argue.

Liam pops open his trunk, still ignoring me.

“I’m not walking. There’s no good reason why we can’t just drive to the train station. Are you scared your car is being tracked or something?” I ask.

Liam’s throat bobs, and I take a panicked step back before hurrying into his personal space. Liam straightens up as our toes touch, his expression unreadable as he peers down at me. Fuck, I wish I knew what was going on in his oversized head.

“Are you scared your car is tracked?” I pry.

My voice hitches at the end, and every crime movie death I’ve ever seen flashes through my mind. We’re being followed, and in only a matter of minutes, a giant SUV is about to pull up and six men with automatic guns will jump out and shoot us. Or kidnap us. Probably kidnap us.

They’re going to torture me.

I’m going to die.

“Fuck,” Liam whispers, his voice low.

He must see my fear as he crouches and cups my cheeks. It’s not the first time he’s done this, but it’s the first time I don’t scoff and push him away. I shut my eyes and lean into his hands, needing something, anything, to ground me.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Katie,” Liam says, his voice deceptively calm. “I have everything under control.”

Hearing that doesn’t make me feel any better, and I reach up and take hold of Liam’s wrists as he smooths my eyebrows and tucks my hair behind my ears.

“Look at me,” he says.

I squeeze my eyes shut even harder, desperately begging my racing heart to settle, before opening my eyes and meeting Liam’s stare.

His face is level with mine, and, for once, he isn’t hiding his emotions. He looks mildly concerned, maybe even slightly alarmed, as he looks me over.

“Breathe, princess,” he says, sucking in an exaggerated breath and encouraging me to do the same. He holds it for a few seconds before making a point of exhaling. “Breathe,” he repeats. “Everything is okay. I’m going to take care of you.”

Liam walks me through another deep breath before slowly releasing my face and straightening back up.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

More than I should.

I give a jerky nod, and Liam’s lips spread into his third smile before he grabs our bags from the trunk. He hands me mine, and I throw it over my shoulder as he takes both of his and the grocery bag full of food.

“I can carry something else,” I offer.

Liam tosses his keys in his trunk and slams it shut.

“I’ve got it,” he says.

He nudges me to the side, and I let out a quiet huff as I follow him to this damn bus stop. It’s probably a stupid idea for me to trust Liam like this, and the old Katie would have punched me in the throat for even considering it.

It’s a recipe for disaster, and I force myself to mentally work through reasons why I hate Liam as I follow behind him.

He kidnapped me, for starters, ruining my career and any opportunity I had to make it in the upscale NYC art world, and then he stuck me in some shitty little cabin and proceeded to make the last three or so weeks of my life a living hell.

He’s rude and takes up too much space, and I don’t like how he acts like he knows everything.

It doesn’t take us as long as I feared to reach the bus stop, and we only have to wait a few minutes before one pulls up. Thankfully nobody inside seems to spare us a second glance, and Liam gives me the last available seat before placing himself next to the pole directly in front of me.

He looks out the window, but I can just tell his focus is on me.

Four stops later, we’re getting off the bus, and I purse my lips as I look around.

“Where’s the train?” I ask.

Liam kicks his leg out to the right.

“About a mile this way,” he says.

I’m going to fucking kill him. I’m going to gouge out his eyes and stab little spoons into the sockets. He purposefully didn’t tell me about this additional walk, probably to keep me from complaining, and I quietly brew in my anger as we begin walking.

I want to continue asking about what led to him being covered in mud and blood and us abandoning our cabin, but there are too many people in the street to risk bringing it up.

I’ll wait until we’re alone before demanding my answers. I tried to take the gentle route, holding his hand and playing nice, but that clearly didn’t work.

I’m excited about Plan C.

Chapter 18

Liam books us a suite, an option I didn’t realize was available for trains. It’s insanely expensive, and I take great pleasure in watching Liam hand over his card and pay for us both. The man behind the counter swipes it before handing over our tickets, and he provides a few instructions on where to wait on the platform before sending us off.

I adjust my bag and follow Liam outside.

“Is it safe to use your card?” I ask.

Liam nods, his eyes cutting quickly toward me.

“I’m not sure what movies you’re watching, but your dad doesn’t have access to the banking system,” he laughs.

He’s making fun of me, and I bite at the inside of my cheek as I hold in a snarky retort. Excuse me for not being in the know on all things organized crime. It’s not exactly my area of expertise as it is for him.

There aren’t many people waiting on the platform, but there’s just enough I feel uncomfortable asking Liam for details about what happened. I can’t get the image of him covered in mud and blood out of my head, and not knowing makes me anxious.

We sit on a bench and wait for the train to come, and after twenty minutes of tense silence, it finally does.

I jump to my feet and rush to the nearest door, and Liam slowly follows. I’m holding our tickets, and I wait impatiently for a conductor to step outside and show us where to go.

“We have a suite,” I say the moment one appears.

The man looks friendly, with a broad smile and salt-and-pepper hair. He’s wearing a navy blue uniform, and he leans forward to scan our tickets before nodding to himself and stepping to the side.

“Great! Come on in, and I’ll show you to the suite,” he chirps.

He holds out a hand to help me step onto the train, and I accept the help with a relieved smile. Liam is back to his usual brooding self, and he naturally doesn’t take the conductor’s hand as he steps off the platform and into the train.

He probably thinks he’s too cool for that.

My bag has gotten heavy, and I’m sure I’m leaning to the side as I shift the weight to my other arm and begin following the conductor down the thin railcar. I hate Liam for making me walk so far with it, and I turn and shoot him a dirty look when he chuckles.

“Here you are,” the conductor says, interrupting just seconds before I spit something rude at Liam.

I turn forward with a smile.

“Thank you,” I say. “We appreciate it.”

I make sure to put some extra oomph on the word ‘we.’

The conductor’s eyes dart toward Liam, and his throat bobs as he gulps. I frown, annoyed Liam is scaring the friendly man. He needs to work on his ‘customer service’ face.

I step past the conductor and open the door to our suite. The space is small, just large enough to fit Liam and me, but I don’t mind. I’m just glad to have a private room.

There’s a short hallway with a door on the left that opens up to a bathroom, and on the right are small cubbies and a hanging rod for us to store our things. I don’t hesitate to toss my bag on the lowest shelf and step further into the room.

Light comes in through the large window on the far wall, and in front of it are two seats. I’m pretty sure they fold down into beds, but I don’t bother investigating as I turn to the left and shove open the bathroom door.

I saw in a brochure that they have showers, and I place a hand over my chest as I eye the dingy, comically small shower head. It’s beautiful.

Liam shuts the door behind us before awkwardly squeezing past me, but I pay him no mind as I step into the bathroom and rip off my clothes. I haven’t showered in weeks, and I need this.

I deserve this.

A tiny package of soap and travel bottles of shampoo and conditioner sit on the sink, and I kick my clothes aside before turning on the shower and ripping the tiny soap open.

This is the best day of my life.

“Don’t use all the hot water,” Liam says, peeking into the room.

He lets his eyes linger on my body, but I’m too happy to care. He can look at me all he wants while I’m being rained on from the ceiling.

“I can’t, and won’t, promise anything,” I say.

Liam raises a brow before shaking his head and exiting the room. I step into the water, uncaring if he can hear the loud moan I let slip from my throat. I don’t care if the entire damn train hears it.

The water is lukewarm, and it makes me feel slimy, but this is still arguably the most refreshing shower I’ve ever had. I could die a happy woman inside this bathroom, and I take my sweet time cleaning myself.

I even wash my hair twice.

Liam’s lucky there’s still warm water by the time I finally work up the strength to turn off the shower, and I hum happily to myself as I wrap a towel around my chest and push open the bathroom door.

I’m hit with the smell of coffee the second I step into the hallway. Oh, god. It’s heavenly.

“I got us food and drinks,” Liam says.

He points to a small tray, and I place a hand over my chest as I eye the heaping mountain of food he bought us. There’s everything from sandwiches to gummy bears on it, and I look over my options before grabbing a ham and cheddar sandwich and a small bag of white cheddar popcorn.

Liam also bought two coffees and two Cokes, and I grab one of each before making my way to the seat opposite his.

My towel rides up, and I take great pleasure seeing how Liam’s eyes dart to my exposed thigh. He’s so desperate for me.

“Don’t you want to get dressed?” he asks.

I shake my head and rip open my sandwich.

It’s bland and dry, but I’m not complaining. I wash it down with large swigs of my coffee, and Liam casually sips on his as he watches.

“You act like you’re starving. Have you been hungry?” he eventually asks.

I snort, preparing to say something witty about his shitty cooking, before realizing he’s serious. Liam’s a prick, but he’s been good about ensuring I’ve eaten. Even when I’ve pissed him off beyond belief, he still cooks my every meal.

“All I had today was a salad,” I explain. “I’m not usually hungry.”

Liam takes a sip of his coffee and looks out the window.

It will take us two trains to get to Arkansas, and this first trip is almost ten hours long. I’m not looking forward to it.

At least the view is pretty, and I rest my chin in my palm as I peer out the window. We’re driving past a lake, and I admire the large, colonial-style houses surrounding it. If I had a phone, I’d probably be trying to look them up and see how much they cost, but I have a feeling Liam isn’t going to hand over his device for my nosy searches.

“I followed you into the woods earlier,” Liam says, breaking the silence. “I was going to keep my distance, but I didn’t want you to get lost.”

I raise a brow, and Liam sets his coffee in his cupholder with a quiet sigh. He looks exhausted as he sinks into his chair, and I realize just how long this day must have been for him. There’s a very good chance he killed somebody earlier, and then he had to create an entirely new plan for us and evacuate our cabin.

That’s not even to mention him having to carry his two giant duffel bags and our groceries for who knows how many miles.

I’m surprised he hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

Liam clears his throat before continuing. “It turns out I wasn’t the only man following you.”

My heart skips a beat, and I set my drink down before clasping my hands in my lap and giving Liam my full attention. What’s he mean he wasn’t the only one following me? Are we still being followed?

I gulp, my throat feeling dry. Was that man going to hurt me? I’d assume so.

Men who follow women into the woods tend not to have good intentions. Liam clenches his hands into tight fists, and I stare at his knuckles before looking up and meeting his eye.

“Did you take care of it?” I ask, my voice cracking.

We both know what I’m really asking.

Liam dips his chin, subtly nodding. I suck in a shaky breath, struggling not to react. I don’t want Liam to think I can’t handle this information, but it’s still shocking. And frightening. It’s one thing to hear that I’m in danger, but it’s another to hear that a man was actively following me.

It’s always been possible, but I never believed it would become an actuality.

“I didn’t know the man, and he refused to tell me who he worked for,” Liam continues to explain. “But I did get some information from him. It seems he was following me through a tracker put on my car. He didn’t know who you are, but it’s been reported that I’m hiding away with a woman.”

That’s good, right? That they don’t know who I am?

“So they think I’m a side piece,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

My voice cracks, and Liam grimaces.

“I don’t have side pieces. They think you’re my main piece, and I assume they also think I’ve chosen to abandon David and run away with you,” he admits.

I purse my lips and look out the window, desperate to hide the smile threatening to spread across my face. I shouldn’t care whether or not Liam has side pieces, and it’s definitely not what I should be focusing on right now.

He just admitted to killing somebody, and probably even torturing them for information, for fuck’s sake. I should be freaking out about that.

Still, despite knowing that, I don’t find myself overly concerned. Maybe it’s how calm Liam seems. He’s not panicking, so I shouldn’t be, either.

Plus, I genuinely believe Liam would never hurt me.

I clear my throat. “Well, you should be glad I don’t have to resort to Plan C to get this information from you.”

That’s a bummer, because I was slightly looking forward to seducing Liam.

“I should get dressed,” I say.

Liam frowns, and I pull my towel down my thigh before brushing my sandwich crumbs off me and standing. The train is cold, and I don’t enjoy the feeling of this scratchy towel on my bare vagina.

“You know, these seats turn into beds,” he says.

I roll my eyes and drop my towel to the floor. It lands at my ankles, and I fight back a smile as I grab my bag out of the hallway and set it on the ground. I’m sure Liam’s watching me right now, or at least, I hope he is, and I make a pointed effort not to look in his direction as I grab a pair of his sweatpants I’d stolen and put it on with a sports bra.

They’re comfortable travel clothes, and I know Liam likes it when I wear his things.

Should we address our earlier hand-holding? Probably not. That sounds like a recipe for disaster.

Liam makes no attempts to pretend he isn’t staring at me as I zip up my bag and toss it back in the small cubby. His duffel bag full of guns is nowhere to be seen, and I furrow my brows as I turn in search of it.

I quickly spot it tucked in the furthest corner of the suite.

“Can I see what’s inside?” I ask, gesturing to it.

“No.”

I pout. “Please?”

“No,” Liam repeats.

He’s no fun. I take a step toward the bag, fully intending to ignore Liam and take a peek, but when I take in his dark expression, I decide against it. This man murdered somebody today, and maybe messing with him and his weapons isn’t the smartest move.

I grab some more snacks off the tray before returning to my seat. I’m beginning to feel queasy, and I peer out the window hoping it helps prevent me from getting motion sickness.

I’ve never been on a train before, and while it’s smoother than I anticipated, there’s still a definite back-and-forth movement.

Liam and I sit in silence, but it’s comfortable.

“I’d like to shower, “ Liam says, drawing my attention. I hum, signaling I’m listening as I peer out the window. “Can I trust you to behave?” he continues.

Sometimes I think I could grow to like Liam, but then he says something condescending and I want to wring his throat. I’m a full-grown adult, and I know how to behave myself.

Liam pauses, waiting for my response, but I refuse to justify his question with one. After a moment he seems to realize that, and with a huff, he stands and makes his way to the bathroom. I slyly eye his bag of weapons, fully planning to go through it the moment he shuts the door, and I’m about ready to scream when he moves it in front of the open bathroom door.

Fucking bastard.

I should steal all the towels and make him air-dry like a wet dog.

Instead, I settle for grabbing his coffee and pouring what’s left of it into my cup. Liam doesn’t deserve any, and I need more than one measly cup after the weeks I’ve been forced to endure. Liam is horrible, the absolute worst, and no amount of hand-holding and life-saving will ever make me think otherwise.

“Can you bring me my razor?” Liam shouts.

No.

I take my sweet time standing and walking to the hallway where his clothing bag is squished alongside mine, and I make a pointed effort not to peer into the bathroom as I do so. Liam would take too much pleasure in catching me peeking at his naked body.

“Thank you,” I sarcastically say, reaching for his bag.

Liam snorts. “Thank you, princess.”

I should throw his razor out the window. Instead, because I’m a good person, I open his bag and fish through it until I find the razor in question. It’s old and gross, and I grimace as I turn it around and peer at the back.

“There hasn’t exactly been a good time to buy a new one,” he says. “And I know you’ve been sneaking it to shave your pussy.”

He knows about that? I thought I was being sneaky. I hum, pretending not to care that he knows about my secret razor stealing, before standing and turning toward the open shower door.

My mouth grows dry as I lock eyes with Liam.

He’s facing me, not even attempting to cover up as he leisurely washes his hair. He smiles, clearly feeling good about himself, as my eyes dart down his torso. I’ve seen Liam naked before, but he’s usually bent awkwardly over a spigot or rushing to change.

I lick my lips, hating myself for the way I admire his muscular chest and tattoos. His arms are almost completely covered, and his torso is a smattering of larger pieces. My attention lingers on a snake covering the length of his left collarbone before sliding to the tiger right above his hip.

There’s an anatomical heart on his right peck, and I eye it as I step over his weapon bag and hand him the razor.

“In case you forget what side your heart is on?” I snort, hoping he takes it as an insult.

Liam smiles, signaling he doesn’t. Damn.

“Do you always insult the men you’re attracted to?” he asks. “That’s not a healthy coping mechanism.”

Liam’s an absolute fool if he thinks I’m attracted to him. Deciding to be the bigger person, I snap my jaw shut and return to my seat. Liam laughs as I retreat, and he should find himself very lucky I don’t spin back around and attack him.

He’s naked, and I know that makes him vulnerable.

I’ll go straight for his balls.

He doesn’t spend long in the shower, probably less than half the time I spent in mine, and I pointedly avoid looking in his direction as he walks out with a towel wrapped around his waist. It’s tied low, but he won’t get the pleasure of getting my eyes.

He’s just trying to get back at me for teasing him earlier.

Liam redresses before returning to his seat, and I press my lips together to stop from smiling as he grabs his coffee cup and peers into it.

“Seriously?”

I shrug, still struggling to hold back a smile, as I lift my now-full cup to my lips and take a long, exaggerated sip. Victory is sweet.

Chapter 19

I’ve never been more relieved to be standing on hard ground before. My legs feel wobbly, and my motion sickness has reached an all-time high. I thought the train would be similar to the subway, but it’s an entirely different beast.

Liam should be grateful I haven’t puked all over him.

The train was fun initially, but after so many hours of sitting on painfully hard cushions, I’m ready to lay down in a real bed and eat real food.

The sky is black as we leave the station, and I eye the large ‘Welcome to Arkansas’ sign in the parking lot. It’s blue and white, and it’s arguably the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. Of all the places Liam could take us to, why here?

New Orleans could have been fun, and I don’t think it’s too far from here.

Liam pulls out his phone and orders a car, and I fight the urge to kick him in the shins as I realize he could’ve done that earlier. There was no reason for the multi-mile walk and the smelly bus ride to the train station.

I set my bag on the ground while we wait, and Liam copies my actions before shrugging off his jacket.

It’s a bit warmer here, the late fall air not quite so frigid, but it’s still chilly. I snatch his jacket and slip it over my shoulders, and Liam chuckles at my aggressive movements before pulling me into his side.

He wraps an arm around my waist, the action prompting me to turn and glare at him. What’s he think he’s doing? Still, I don’t pull away, and I soak in his body heat until a car pulls up and Liam gestures for me to get inside.

We sit in awkward silence in the back, and I stare out the window, praying I don’t get sick. It doesn’t work, and I’m immediately nauseous.

Liam rubs my back, and I push him off me with a huff before pressing my forehead against the window. I hate Liam, and after a few minutes, I peer at his phone to see how long of a ride it is.

Forty-five minutes.

Fuck me.

I’m sweating bullets by the time we finally arrive, and I practically throw myself out of the car when our driver pulls into a small hotel parking lot. It’s run down, and I eye the blinking red sign with a frown.

Liam would take us to the dingiest hotel.

I grab my bag from the trunk, and Liam takes his and our groceries before the car pulls away. I stare at the hotel, my attention captured by the faded, dirt-covered siding and poorly maintained yard.

“Aren’t you, like, super rich?” I ask.

Liam snorts. “Define super-rich.”

That non-answer is all the answer I need.

“This place has good reviews, and we’ll only be here a few days until I figure something else out,” he continues. “Besides, it’s better than the cabin.”

Anything is better than the cabin. I hike my bag higher on my shoulder before gesturing for Liam to lead the way. He does, and I glare at his annoyingly long legs before following behind him.

I’m hit with a blast of warm air as we step into the lobby, and I tilt my chin up toward the vent before glancing around the place.

Directly in front of the doors is a sitting area, with a few chairs and a couch facing one another. The brown cushions look worn in but relatively clean, and the magazines scattered on the coffee table in the center are at least ten years old.

Behind the sitting area are open double doors, and quiet music pours out of them. I spot what looks like a bar inside, but I’m not at a good angle to get a good view.

I’ll be spending some time there if I have anything to say about it.

To the right of the lobby is a reception desk, and Liam heads straight toward it.

There’s a woman sitting behind the desk, maybe in her mid-twenties, and she pushes her silky blonde hair behind her shoulder as she notices Liam’s approach. Her bright blue eyes are lined with dark eyeliner, and she fixes her navy blue uniform shirt before shooting Liam an easy smile.

I can’t help but notice how her eyes travel down his figure, the woman not at all sly in her gawking. She lingers at his shoulders, and she even goes as far as to lean forward to see his torso behind her tall desk.

How rude. Liam’s not some piece of meat to be leered at.

Her eyes never travel toward me, but I know she’s aware of my presence.

“Good evening,” she greets Liam. “How can I help you?”

Her voice is low, and the vocal fry makes me want to scream. Maybe this is the ignorant New Yorker in me talking, but I didn’t realize women in Arkansas would be pretty. I assumed they’d look sleepy and dull, just like their state.

This woman is neither. You could pop her right into the center of Manhattan and she’d blend right in.

She stands straighter, and I glance at the name tag on her chest.

Jackie.

“Hey,” Liam says. “We’d like to book a room for three nights.”

Jackie’s lips curl into a sly smile, and she gives a timid nod before turning to her computer.

I suck my cheeks into my mouth and drop my bag to the floor. It lands with a loud thump, drawing Jackie’s attention. Her eyes flicker to me, and the slight crinkles around her eyes vanish as her smile shifts from genuine to forced.

Liam doesn’t react, the man probably used to my dramatic displays, as he sets down his bags and rests his elbows on her desk. He barely got any sleep on the train, and I’m sure he’s exhausted.

“Would you like separate rooms?” Jackie asks, turning back to Liam.

I bet she’d like that, the fucking bitch.

She leans against the counter, bringing her face uncomfortably close to Liam’s, and smiles. I hope her breath smells bad.

Liam taps his fingers against the counter. “We’ll share.”

Jackie lets out a quiet, judging hum before typing something into her computer. I watch, annoyed by the bright polish covering her fingernails. Mine look like shit, thanks to Liam forcing me into the middle of nowhere with absolutely zero nail care, but hers look good.

They’re a nice round shape, slightly long but not so much that she has to go out of her way to work around them, and they’re painted a bright blue.

Jackie sinks her teeth into her bottom lip before glancing at Liam through her lashes. “It looks like we have a two-bed available on the fourth floor.”

I glance between her and Liam, my eyes narrowing as he licks his lips and cocks his head to the side. An easy smile spreads across his face, and I fucking hate it. Why’s he looking at her like that? Liam is supposed to be broody and scary, not whatever the fuck this is.

“We’d like one bed,” he corrects her.

Yeah, we would.

I straighten my spine with a cocky smile before realizing what I’m doing and relaxing. There’s no reason to get worked up because Liam asked for a one-bed room in front of the pretty receptionist.

Jackie raises a brow, and I hate how I step forward and slide myself in front of him. There isn’t much room between his torso and the desk, but I manage to weasel myself into the small space.

Liam rests his chin on my head and wraps his arms around my waist, and I glare daggers at Jackie until she drops her haughty fucking expression and resumes her keyboard tapping.

I’m sure my cheeks are bright red, but I ignore it. If Liam’s asking for one bed, he probably intends for us to pretend we’re a couple. It only makes sense, as a couple, that I’d be angry with a woman so blatantly flirting with him.

Liam should thank me for being willing to play the part so thoroughly.

This is probably just some ploy for him to have an excuse to cuddle with me. He truly is obsessed with me, and he’s not been doing a very good job hiding it.

I bet he fantasizes about sharing a bed with me, but he’s a fool if he thinks it will lead to anything. Letting him hold my hand yesterday was not an invitation, and he’s in for a rude awakening if he thinks this charade will continue behind closed doors.

We can share a bed because I know he’s needy for it, but that’s as far as it’ll go.

“There’s one available on the third floor,” Jackie says. “It’s $130 a night.”

Liam unwraps one of his arms around me and pulls out his wallet. He grabs his credit card and hands it over, and I lean into his chest.

If he insists on kidnapping and dragging me all across the country, I’m sure as fuck going to do everything possible to cockblock him.

He doesn’t get to go out and flirt with women while simultaneously ruining my life.

Over my dead body.

Jackie swipes Liam’s card and has him sign a waiver, and I keep myself glued to his chest the entire time. Liam doesn’t seem to mind, and I take great pleasure in how Jackie’s not-so-subtle flirting has ended.

“If you need anything, feel free to ring the front desk. I clock out in about thirty minutes,” she says, sliding two keycards across the desk.

What a subtle way to tell him when she’ll be off work. I snatch the cards off the desk with a sickly sweet smile, imagining all the way to disembowel her in my mind.

“Thank you,” I chirp.

She nods, her gaze darting between Liam and me once more before settling on him. I wonder what expression is on Liam’s face right now, and I fight the urge to turn and peer up at him. Is he smiling at her?

Flirting with her?

My blood boils, and I release his arm before turning and reaching for my bag. Liam follows, and I speed walk down a short hallway that leads to the elevators. He says nothing about my embarrassing display of possessiveness, and I’m grateful.

If he tries bringing it up, I’ll have no choice but to kill him.

I tap my foot impatiently against the ground as we ride in the elevator, and I don’t hesitate to beeline it straight toward our room the second the doors open. Liam chuckles, the bastard no doubt finding humor in this.

I don’t think it’s funny.

“What are you laughing at?” I hiss the second we enter the room.

I drop my bag onto the ground and spin around, and Liam shuts and locks the door before setting his things on the small desk.

The room is tiny, just large enough for a queen size bed, desk, TV, and bathroom.

I’m going to be taking advantage of the TV later. I’m desperate for entertainment that doesn’t involve my annoying meathead kidnapper, and TV is the perfect escape.

“You get feisty when you’re jealous,” Liam says.

I cross my arms over my chest. “I was not jealous.”

Liam hums, clearly not believing me, as he unzips his clothing bag and begins hunting through it. My anger spikes. I’m genuinely not jealous. I just don’t think it’s fair for him to go out and flirt while I’m stuck here having my life ruined.

He doesn’t get to have fun while I’m miserable, and that’s the only reason I cut between him and that woman.

“That’s good,” Liam sighs, pulling a clean shirt out of his bag. “Because I think I’m going to head down there and see if she wants to have a drink at the bar when she gets off work.”

I hate Liam with every inch of my being, and he’s clearly only saying this to get a rise out of me. He wants me to be upset and jealous, but I won’t stoop to his level.

I’m better than him.

“She’s not even your type,” I scoff.

Liam raises a brow before pulling off his shirt. I stare at his face, refusing to let my gaze lower to his exposed muscles.

“Not my type?” Liam asks. “Did you see her?”

Yes, I fucking saw her. She was beautiful.

I work my jaw side to side as I try to think of something to say, but when nothing comes to mind, I spin around and reach for my bag. I don’t care what Liam does, and if he wants to fuck the receptionist, all the power to him.

My bottom lip wobbles, and I drop to my knees and pretend to be searching through my bag so Liam doesn’t notice. I don’t even know why this is upsetting me. A small part of me thinks of Liam as mine, and I suppose I’ve gotten used to having him around these past few weeks.

I shouldn’t be letting him get to me like this.

“Katie?” Liam asks.

I ignore him as I grab a change of clothes and storm into the bathroom.

I’m faintly aware I’m being followed, and I resist the urge to spin and punch Liam in the balls when he places his hand on the bathroom door and refuses to let me close it.

“Go away,” I huff, pulling at his arm.

Liam steps forward, invading my space and pinning me against the bathroom sink. I curl my fingers around the basin and glare at his chest, refusing to meet his eye.

“I’m messing with you, princess,” he says. He cups my jaw and lifts my face, forcing me to look him in the face. He’s frowning, and he sighs quietly as he takes in my pout. “Would you like to go to the bar and make out with me in a dark corner booth?”

I press my lips together, thinking, before giving a jerky nod.

“I suppose.”

Chapter 20

I’m so happy I could cry.

Liam chuckles as he places my margarita on the table, and I bounce in my seat as I grab the straw and take a big sip. It burns the back of my throat, just how I like it, and I beam as I meet Liam’s eye and suck in another mouthful.

He brings his glass of water to his lips, his throat bobbing as he drinks.

“Do you want some?” I ask, pulling my straw out of my mouth and tilting it in his direction.

Liam leans forward and takes a sip, his nose scrunching.

“It’s sweet,” he says, smacking his lips.

Duh. That’s the point.

I lean back in my seat and look around. The hotel bar is small, but it’s incredibly cozy. There’s a large circular bar in the center of the room, and it’s surprisingly full. Almost every barstool is filled, and loud chatter fills the space and blocks out the ambient background noise playing from the speakers.

A few tables fill the space, and booths line the room. I found and secured the most private booth, a fact I’m quite proud of. It’s round and tucked into the far corner, giving me the perfect view for people-watching.

Liam made a promise to make out with me, and he’s going to see it through.

I hope the receptionist pops in and catches him with his tongue in my mouth.

“You’ve been nice to me recently,” I say, taking another sip of my drink.

I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since I was kidnapped, and I missed it. There’s something relaxing about it, and I enjoy the feeling of a slight buzz. It calms my ever-present anxiety, and Liam sure as fuck has been raising mine these past few days.

“Would you rather I be mean to you?” Liam asks.

I shoot him a snarky glare. “I’d rather you tell me why,” I say.

Liam sets his glass on the table before dropping a hand to my leg. He inches closer to me as he slides it up my thigh, his expression dangerous. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

“I figure I need to be if I want to fuck you again,” he admits.

I know he’s lying. He’s trying to rile me up so I yell at him and drop the subject. It’s not the first time he’s done it, and I hate to admit it’s not the first time he’s been successful. I’m weak when it comes to large, warm hands on my thighs, and Liam knows it.

“Do you have a crush on me?” I pry. “Is that why you’re being nice?”

Liam leans in until I can feel his breath on my cheek, and he gently tucks my hair behind my ear. I gulp, my body going rigid as he brings his lips to my neck. They’re soft, and I can feel him smiling into my skin as he trails them up the column of my throat.

I tighten my grip on my glass before bringing it to my mouth and taking a large gulp.

It’s cold, and Liam darts out his tongue and licks my throat as I swallow.

Fuck.

I really should pull back and demand he answers my questions. He’s getting away with too much, and I need to stop letting him. There’s nobody to blame but myself.

Goosebumps pebble on my arms, and the ache between my thighs grows as Liam slips his hand between them. He doesn’t outright touch me, but I can feel the side of his thumb pressing against my slit through my leggings and underwear.

I’m so glad we’re in a booth.

Liam moans into my neck, the sound emerging deep in his throat. I’m not sure what’s gotten into him lately, but it’s turning me on more than I’d care for it to. I don’t want to want him, and I sure as fuck don’t need to be getting attached.

I can feel myself doing both, despite knowing it will only come back and bite me in the ass.

My eyes flicker around the room, scanning to ensure we aren’t being watched by any angry bartenders or uncomfortable patrons. Nobody seems to notice we’re even sitting over here, let alone doing whatever the fuck this is, and I spread my thighs just slightly as I slide my hand up the back of Liam’s head and pull his face upward.

His lips are on me in a second, and I moan into his mouth as his tongue meets mine.

This is the first time I’ve ever kissed Liam, and it’s good.

I’m used to men being either too sloppy or too reserved, but Liam’s nicely in the middle. He tilts his head to the side and takes control of the kiss, and I curl my fingers into the short hairs at the base of his neck.

Fuck.

He slides his hand to the apex of my thighs, and I jolt when he abruptly cups my sex. His fingers press into my most sensitive parts, and I can’t help but roll my hips as he applies pressure on my clit.

“I’m going to put my mouth on this tonight,” Liam groans, pulling back.

His voice is hoarse, and I fucking love it. He slides his lips to my ear, and I shiver.

“Do you want that, princess?”

I give a jerky nod, and he chuckles before abruptly pulling back. It takes a moment for my mind to register his sudden departure, and I frown as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. I crane my neck to peer at the screen, but he smoothly moves it out of my reach before tapping the screen and holding it to his chest.

“I need to take this.”

Liam’s gone before I can respond, his long legs carrying him to the opposite end of the room. I fix my shirt and glare at his back, annoyed he’s being secretive about who he’s talking to. He’s gotten not one call the entire time we’ve been together, and I just know it’s my dad.

Liam leans against the wall on the opposite end of the bar and watches me. His eyes occasionally flicker around the room, scanning for what I assume he perceives as a threat. He wasn’t doing that when shoving his tongue into my mouth just a minute ago.

Interesting how he picks and chooses when to be on guard.

I’m still glaring at him when a man enters my line of sight, and I resist the urge to huff when I realize he’s walking toward me.

He’s attractive, that much I’m willing to admit, and about ten years older than me with short dark hair and a confident smile. He’s wearing a suit, which is odd considering the late hour. The formal attire probably helps him pick up women.

I’m not falling for it.

My eyes flicker toward Liam, and I take great pleasure in seeing just how fucking angry he looks right now. His entire body’s gone rigid, and his hand not holding his phone is clenched into a tight fist.

Good.

He deserves to be jealous.

Deciding I enjoy this, I turn toward my guest with a wide smile.

“Can I help you?” I chuckle, cocking my head to the side.

The man comes to a halt at the end of my booth. Did he not just see I was playing tongue twister with Liam? I assume not. Liam could crush this guy, that much is painfully obvious, and I doubt this guy would have the courage to approach me if he knew who I was here with.

“I’m Sam,” the man introduces himself. “I couldn’t help but see you were sitting here all by yourself, and I knew I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t come over and say hello.”

I take a slow sip of my margarita, the alcohol already giving me a slight buzz. I suppose this is what I get for drinking on an empty stomach.

Sam shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking nervous, and I flash him what I hope looks like an encouraging smile.

“You just getting off work?” I ask, gesturing toward his suit.

I highly doubt it, considering it’s past eleven. I bet he put it on specifically to come to the bar.

Sam nods and takes a seat. His eyes dart toward Liam’s water glass, and I clench my jaw before sliding it toward me. I take a sip of it to make it look like it’s mine, and Sam seems none the wiser as he settles into the spot where Liam just was minutes ago.

I glance at my kidnapper, pleased to see he hasn’t moved. He’s still on the phone, but he’s glaring daggers at Sam. Good. He deserves it after so brazenly flirting with the receptionist.

I’m wanted, too.

“Yeah, I had a pretty long day, and I figured a drink at the bar would be a good way to unwind,” Sam says.

I bring my straw to my lips, pointedly hollowing my cheeks as I drink. Men are easy, and Sam stares like I’ve just graced him with the most erotic show he’s ever been given.

It’s really not that exciting.

“What brings you here?” he continues.

I lean back in my seat with an exaggerated sigh. How far should I go with this? It would be fun to jump all in and really piss Liam off, but I don’t want to make him so angry he tries to harm Sam.

Seeing Liam fight over me would make me ache, though. I’d love for a man to bloody his knuckles in a desperate, needy attempt to prove his worth. I’d probably fuck him then and there.

“I’m staying at the hotel, and my boyfriend convinced me to come down for a drink,” I say, deciding not to push this. “He’s taking a call right now, but he’ll probably be back soon.”

Sam seems like a nice enough guy, and I don’t want Liam to hurt him.

“You’re here with your boyfriend?” Sam asks.

Unfortunately.

I nod and glance behind him, preparing to point out Liam, only to squeak when I spot the man in question standing at the end of the booth. He’s too sneaky for how large he is.

It should be illegal.

“Leave.”

Liam’s tone leaves no room for argument, and I frown as he leans over the booth and levels his glare with poor Sam.

Sam takes one look at Liam and goes pale.

“Oh,” he says, his voice rising in pitch. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t realize.”

Liam doesn’t respond, only continuing to glare until the man nervously shuffles out of the booth and disappears. I plaster an exaggerated pout on my lips.

“You’re no fun,” I sigh. “I was enjoying our conversation.”

Liam still doesn’t respond, and I gulp before awkwardly clearing my throat and straightening my spine. I need to look like I’m in control.

“Who called you?” I ask, changing the subject.

He’s not going to answer me, I already know that, but I ask anyway. If I were smart, I would’ve followed him around the bar demanding to speak to my father while they were still on the phone.

I tap my foot against the ground, my annoyance growing. “I want to talk to him.”

Liam shrugs, indifferent.

“It’s too late now. He called off a burner that I assume is either smashed under a car tire or at the bottom of the Hudson River,” he explains.

Does he think I’m stupid?

“He has a real phone, does he not? I know you have the number. Call it,” I demand, pointing at the phone in his hand.

Liam cocks his head to the side, smiles, and tosses me his phone.

Thank fucking god. I snatch up his device, pleased to see it’s unlocked, and I make my way to the call log. I glare daggers at Liam as I redial his last call, but it doesn’t go through.

I call again, but all I’m met with is loud beeping.

Liam smirks, and I’m seconds away from lunging over this table and sticking my fingers in his eyes as I swipe out of his call log and make my way to his messages.

Empty.

Of course, he would delete all his messages. I go to his contacts next, but that’s empty too. What the fuck?

In a desperate attempt to find something, anything, I make my way to his photos. There are only two, one of me sleeping and another, zoomed in one of drool on my face. I bet he took these to blackmail me with.

He thinks he’s so damn funny, and I angrily delete both images before tossing his phone across the table.

“Why is it empty?” I ask.

Liam looks fucking ecstatic, and I hate him for it.

“I bought this phone about five minutes before I picked you up from the art gallery,” he says. “It’s always been empty.”

I take a drink, but all that comes up the straw is tangy water. I pull back and peer into my glass, disappointed to see it’s empty. I drank that faster than I intended, and I glance at the bar before shifting my attention back to Liam.

What’re the odds I can get him to buy me another?

“Get up. We’re going back to our room,” he orders.

I bark out a laugh, not believing it.

“No. I’m having a good time here,” I argue. “This is the first I’ve gotten to do something in weeks, and I want to enjoy it.”

Liam works his jaw side to side before planting his palms on the table and bringing his face toward mine. I refuse to back down, and I meet his stare head-on. He’s not going to bully me into leaving this bar before I’m ready.

“Did you not like seeing Sam flirt with me?” I tease, my voice low. “He’s quite attractive, don’t you think? I wonder how he fucks.”

Liam looks infuriated, and I’m enjoying every second of it. I’ve always loved pissing him off, and making him jealous is the most entertaining way to do it. I’m going to do everything in my power to make him regret not letting me talk to my dad.

Liam shuts his eyes and sucks in a slow, deep breath.

“Get up, Catherine,” he repeats.

I ignore him. “Sam looks like he’s got a big cock, doesn’t he?”

Liam steps around the table and kneels on the seat. His body cages in mine, and I curl my fingers nervously around the cushion as he brings his lips to my ear.

“This is a game you don’t want to play with me, princess,” he whispers, his low voice sending shivers down my spine. “You’re going to be a good girl and come back to the room with me, and then you’re going to strip down and let me have you. I want to taste you, baby girl, and I want to feel you cumming around my cock.”

I lick my lips, my chest heaving as Liam kisses my neck.

“And what if I refuse?” I ask.

Liam smirks into my throat. “Why don’t you try it and find out?”

My pulse races, and I suck in a shaky breath as Liam slides his hand between my thighs. I instinctively spread my legs for him, and I let out a quiet moan as he rubs my clit over my leggings. It feels better than it should, and I nervously glance around the bar to ensure nobody’s looking.

“Try it, princess. Tell me you aren’t going to come upstairs with me.”

I throw my head back, debating, before angrily snapping my legs shut and sliding out of my booth. Fuck him.

“Let’s go,” I huff, jutting my chin into the air.

Liam’s laughter is loud as he follows me, and I take great pleasure in knowing he’s following me like the little bitch boy he is.

I hope he’s embarrassed.