Chapter 48
contradiction with an ass
Lorien
Monday is wild and goes by too fast. Before I know it, the pilot announces that we’re beginning our initial descent into Denver and to expect a few bumps along the way.
I don’t fly much, but it seems there are always a few bumps.
It must be the physics of the downslope off the mountains and into the plains that does it, but I’m no meteorologist or physicist.
After all the rigamarole of deplaning, detraining, and finding the exit, I’m relieved to see the huge black SUV pulling up.
Liam exits the vehicle, opens my door for me, turning my face this way and that in his warm hands as his jaw goes tight. He says nothing as his eyes linger on the bruises on my face. Eventually he takes my bag to the back before sliding behind the driver’s seat.
We’re out of the tunnel and heading toward Blucifer when I ask, “Were you limping just now?”
Staring straight out the windshield, he nods once, and adds apropos of nothing, “Gunshot to the hip.”
“What?” I shriek, my voice going high-pitched and painful.
“One to the hip, one to the shoulder. I told you it was a day.”
“It was a day means things didn’t go your way.
Or, I don’t know, you were inconvenienced.
” My voice is getting louder and louder.
“Bullets going into your body… I don’t know, maybe that warrants more than a ‘it was a day’.
” I drop my voice to mimic his deep tenor.
“Maybe that warrants a Hey, Wifey, I was shot phone call. But maybe I’m just being ridiculous thinking you’d clue me in when—”
“Wifey?” he cuts off my rant.
“Yeah.” I turn to face him.
“It was a shit day. I’m glad to be alive and I’m glad you care.”
Well, that sucked the wind right out of my sails. “Well, good.”
“Today was also shit, but not in the bullets flying kind of way.”
I reach out a hand. I don’t know why. “What was today?”
He takes my hand, presses his lips to my knuckles, and whispers something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, you need your ring.”
I nod, but don’t push that subject. “What happened today, Liam?”
We’re on the toll road that loops around the east side of Denver, heading toward Ken Caryl, when he releases a deep exhale. “This morning, Ayla and Cian and I had to talk with Mom about what’s coming next. It was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life.”
“I’m sorry.” I squeeze the hand holding mine. “Will you tell me what’s coming next?”
He captures my gaze before returning his focus to the road. “My father is not a good man. And by not a good man, I mean he nearly killed my brother and tried to murder my sister. That’s not hyperbole. It’s a documented fact.”
“That’s… unconscionable.”
“That’s one word for it. The word I’m using is criminal. And today we sat Mom down to explain that we’d no longer hide his secret from the authorities.”
What? “You protected him?” I can’t imagine. I also can’t imagine my dad being anything like that.
“Ayla did and it was her call to do so. Sort of. Sophia and Wills entering the picture changed things.”
“I’d bet. Are they”—I don’t want to think it—“vulnerable?”
“Not anymore.” He stares out at the road, weaving through the not-yet rush-hour traffic.
“You’re certain of that?”
“We went to the police today, against Mom’s fervent pleas, brought all the evidence, along with our attorney. Ayla and Ci filed civil cases against him. The county and city plan to file criminal ones as well. That allowed for restraining orders.”
“And your mom?”
“She wants to pretend this doesn’t exist. She’s not defending him. She simply wants everyone to be happy. As if that’s an option. As if it’s that simple.”
“You mentioned Cian and Ayla but did—” I buck up my courage. “Did your dad hurt you?”
He shakes his head. “Aside from being himself? No. In fact, there wasn’t enough to warrant an RO for me.”
“So the gunshots?” I ask as we near home.
“They came from something else. I’m banged up. But I got a surprise out of the deal.”
“You got a good surprise from being shot,” I deadpan. “You need to get out more or something. Besides, I thought you were in Wyoming.”
“I was,” he glowers as we round our townhomes for his garage.
“I don’t think you were made for storytelling. Or for people understanding you when you try.”
“If I asked you to stay in the car for a few minutes instead of coming inside, would you?”
“Probably not. I really have to pee.”
“What if I asked you to go into your unit and no matter what you hear or see, you promise to stay inside?”
“Maybe.” I nod, trying to be helpful. “Why?”
“Because my father is on my front steps… and I don’t want him to know you exist.”
“Oh.” Ouch. “Okay.”
I slink out of the car, through the garage door and into my back yard. Not that I want a man like Mr. Murphy to be in my life, but denying my existence hits me in a way I’d never expect.
Yes, this is an arrangement.
And maybe it’s not real.
But dang, why does that hurt so much?
Liam
“Meow.”
“Not now, Poe.” I stride through the house, the kitten hot on my heels, pocketing my nine mill on the way to the front. Trouble, thou art a kitten… I plop the black fuzzball onto the sofa and push open the door.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I dignify the man who doesn’t justify a moment of my time. “What?”
“Don’t speak to me in that tone. After all the—”
I lift a hand to his face. “You don’t correct me. You don’t get to speak here unless it’s in answer to my questions. Why are you here?”
He looks over my head at the door. Fuck no. No permission granted. I move to block his view as I shake my head, keeping a bored expression on my face.
“William.”
“Nope. You may not call me that.” Only one person calls me that.
“May I come in?”
“Also no.” I cross my arms over my chest… again, resisting any urge to wince with my shoulder resisting any and all movement.
“Son—”
“Never call me that. Now, you can tell me why you’re here, or—and this is my preference—you can leave and never contact me again.”
“Your mother is devastated by today.”
I say nothing.
“You can do something about this… make it go away. Tell the authorities it’s untrue.”
“Ha. That’s rich.”
He rushes me and grabs my collar, twisting it tight around my neck. “Do not speak to me in that manner.”
“Howdy, neighbor?” a feminine voice pipes in just as the neighbor’s door swings open. “Is everything okay? Do I need to call the cops?”
“Say nothing, son.” He emphasizes the word, close to my ear with his nasty, fetid breath. “Or I’ll find a way to take our spat out on your cute little neighbor.” My father steps back, releasing my shirt.
I suck in a deep breath as his damn near purple face fades to a beet red, wave off Lorien, for all the world looking completely dismissive, and turn my back on the man I hate more than anyone else on the planet, heading inside. I’m angry as fuck the woman popped her head out.
Seamus Murphy should never have laid eyes on my neighbor… my wife. Mom didn’t ask about the ring on my finger this morning, but she stared way too long to not know what it is.
I lean back against the front door, fighting to calm myself.
My anger has no time to dissipate.
Poe scurries my way, making her displeasure known that I ignored her or didn’t prioritize her or whatever. She pounces onto my pant leg and climbs me like a tree until I pluck her from my shirt. “You girls are trouble.”
Lorien storms through my back door, rounding the wall that separates the kitchen from the living area and comes to stand too close, hands flying wildly. “That was rude, and belittling and, and… is that a kitten? Aw.” Her voice morphs into oozing caramel.
The black kitten with her minty green eyes turns to her and hisses, back arched and hair standing on end.
“Fuck my life.”
“What? How?” Lorien reaches for the feline, despite the hissing, and wraps her up.
“Wifey, this is Poe. Poe, this is Lorien.”
“You got me a kitten? And you named it Poe?”
How do I answer this—a convenient lie or a brutal truth?
“She sort of… fell into my lap. And I couldn’t abandon her.”
“You’re tiny,” she says to Poe. “You weren’t ready to leave your mama, were you?” She looks from the scrawny kitten in her arms to me. “The surprise from being shot?”
“Sure. We can go with that.”
Poe slits her eyes as if I abandoned her with a stranger. “Don’t start with me,” I say to the four-legged one in front of me.
“I know you aren’t speaking to me like that.”
Just like that, I’m fired up again.
“One request. I had one fucking request. Why couldn’t you listen?”
Her eyes bug from her head and she says something quietly to the kitten before setting her gently on the sofa. Spinning on me, she bows up. “I’m not a dog to take orders, William.”
She mutters under her breath and paces down the hall to my bedroom. She’s gesticulating wildly, as if she needs to get in the last word or get out her frustrations even without me able to hear?
“Are you… Arguing with me or with yourself?”
She whirls, hair flying out, but eyes narrowing. “Why are you mad at me?” She stabs at her chest.
I look to the ceiling before leveling her with my gaze. “The man is evil. Did you miss the part where I mentioned he tried to murder my sister?”
“No.”
“But you thought putting yourself in his crosshairs would exclude you from his cruelty?”
“He was choking you—”
She doesn’t finish. Hand to her hair, I tug and take her mouth. Hard.
Her tongue duels with mine. Her body fights as much as it softens. The woman is a contradiction with an ass that won’t quit. I palm her with the hand not in her hair and pull her into me.
Everything on me hurts. There’s no possibility of anything acrobatic. I can’t lift her or take her from on top. But I need inside her. Now.
“Bed?” I ask.
“I’m still mad at you,” she says, climbing up fully clothed.
“Well, that makes two of us…” I stand over her, peering down at the soft, kind woman who tumbled into my life like a meteor, obliterating… everything. “Undress me, Wifey. And go easy. Shit hurts.”
She scrambles my way, kneeling on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning my shirt. Her fingers are quick but shake as she goes one by one. When my shirt is undone, she places a chaste kiss against my chest before pushing the shirt off my good side. It’s the other side that gives her pause.
“You’re bruised… everywhere. Or can I hope this is new ink?” Her fingers pause on the bandage on the back of my upper shoulder.
“It’s not new ink.” I twist so she can see the expanse of white. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do all the work today.”
She looks up and to the side as if debating, before shrugging. “Okay.”
Okay then. I step out of my shoes. “Now my pants.”
She visibly swallows and reaches for my belt. The gentle brush of her fingers sends blood to my already thickening cock. She fumbles with the belt but is surer with the button. The sound of the zipper teeth opening echoes in the quiet room.
She looks away when she realizes I have no underwear on. “Oh, wow.”
“Good answer, baby.” I stroke her jaw and lean in to take her mouth. Trailing kisses to her ear, I growl, “Take off your clothes, but do it nice and slow.”