Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ravi
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s staring down Liam Masters.
I’ve had plenty of practice. I can out-stubborn him better than almost anyone, and we both know he didn’t have time to argue with me.
He hates it, though. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel as we speed down the access road to Belle Argo’s private marina.
He calls his team from the car. I think I hear a woman’s voice over the phone, which means it must be Bev. I haven’t heard him mention another female employee, which probably sucks for her. Really, I should have a talk with him about his company’s lack of gender inclusivity.
Then again, I’d expect working for Liam to suck regardless. For years, simply living under his roof and having him think he had the authority to give me commands was grating as hell. I can’t imagine how bad it would be if he actually signed my paychecks.
Then again, he does pay my tuition. Or…did?
Did. I can pay it myself now.
Maybe that’ll make things different between us. If I can pay my own way, it’ll feel more equal. Maybe Liam won’t need to be in charge of everything.
If I stay.
Okay. Liam’s still going to be Liam. But maybe… Well, I hope when this is over we can come up with something that makes us both happy. Because I don’t think leaving would. Make me happy, that is.
“Kid, I need you to stay in the car when we get there. Stay out of the way. I know you love to run headfirst into stupid shit, but this is one time when I’m telling you not to.”
“Don’t call me kid.” My neck tightens at his use of the word now. “Kid” was an insult that turned into sort of a sexy endearment, but right now it’s neither. He’s trying to put me in my place. That’s not happening.
His reaches across with one large hand, landing it on the top of my leg. “Ravi. Please.”
Well, this is new. Turns out Liam saying “please” has more power over me than his commands.
“Fine. I’ll stay away from the big guys with the big guns. Happy?”
He pulls a face but at least seems appeased. It’s not as if I have a weapon right now.
“You could give me a gun.”
“Fuck no. Nobody’s running in there yet anyway,” he says as he pulls into the small parking area outside the slip management office. “We’re going to play this smart and wait for the team. They’re on their way.”
With the car stopped, he’s checking his pockets and pulling out his gun when there’s a loud bang. His black Mercedes tips to one side.
Everything inside me turns cold.
“Unless they shoot at us first.” Liam turns to me with his jaw set.
“Get down and stay out of sight.” Then he pushes open the door and slides to the ground outside.
From the back seat, Channing does the same.
I’d like to argue that if they’re both hiding behind the vehicle and I’m inside cowering on the floor, aren’t there more layers of protection between them and the bullets? Shouldn’t I be out there with them?
I can’t just sit here. My brain wants to spin. My legs want to move. My lungs want to scream.
But I know Liam. I know how he thinks. He’s hoping whoever’s shooting at us hasn’t seen me through the tinted windows and that I’m safer if I’m not out in the open.
For once, I decide to listen. My body’s still sore and sluggish from earlier, and I don’t have anything to defend myself. Before everything went to hell between us, Liam taught me some self-defense moves, but if anyone out there is Channing’s size? I’m not sure how much I can do.
None of that logic helps, though, when the shooting picks up.
While I try to cover my ears, to stay ducked below the level of the window, I’m also craning to try and see what’s going on.
Mr. Cat lets out a tiny mewl from his carrier, and I nudge it under the seat as far as possible to keep him safe.
There’s some movement on a small yacht across the way, cutely named the Sally Sue. We had a roly-poly calico named Sally Sue when I was little.
What’s not cute is the guy who jumps from the boat deck down to the dock, barely breaking his stride as he shoots.
It’s a semi-automatic handgun. I think Liam told me once the maximum number of bullets is, like, eighteen?
At first I try to count, thinking it would help to know when the guy runs out.
Except then he reaches into the pocket of some bag that’s strapped to his chest and pulls something out.
I can’t see what it is, but when he throws it, it makes a ton of smoke.
Now I can’t see a thing. All I can do is hope that Liam and Channing are okay.
And try not to think of my parents. Which…once the night they were killed pops into my head, it’s impossible to rid myself of the memory. The pops and bangs I’d thought were fireworks.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself as I press my hands harder over my ears. I hate this. I hate feeling helpless like this. The way I’m shaking.
When my parents were killed, I was two doors down. A rare sleepover party I’d been invited to, probably mostly because we were neighbors. People in our neighborhood were always shooting off illegal fireworks, so we figured that was what we’d heard.
Knowing I’d been so close to them, and I hadn’t realized…
Breathe, Ravi. Focus on the breath going in. Focus on the breath going out.
When I was a teenager, I’d get so impatient with my mom, so annoyed that she kept telling me to breathe whenever I was in pain or to breathe through anger, when what I wanted was to be able to do something. I really should have appreciated her help more when she was around.
My relief when the smoke clears is short-lived.
Channing and Liam are racing for the boat.
The guy who looked like he threw the smoke bomb is on the ground now, with blood pooling beneath him.
There might be someone else still up there on the deck.
I could swear there’s movement near the cabin.
Maybe it’s only shadows shifting with the boat’s rocking?
Whatever it is, I have a bad feeling.
I see the fire before I hear the boom. It’s so surreal I can’t make sense of it, because who the fuck sets off an explosive on a boat that probably cost more than Liam’s house?
Liam, who just went on the boat. There’s fire where he’s supposed to be. In that first breath my feet are glued to the floor, everything slow and surreal and muffled. My brain’s put itself on pause.
“No.” Once it unfreezes, I’m out of the car and running. There’s no thought in my head of what I’m going to do. How can I even help? All I know is the boat is leaning backward now, nose slightly upturned like the rich snob it is, and I have no idea where Liam went.
All I know is I have to get to him. I have to. And he’d better be alive. He’d better be, or I’ll set every boat on fire.
It’s confusing when all of a sudden I’m running but I’m not going anywhere.
“Stay fucking still, you little shit,” someone growls in my ear.
I hadn’t felt him grab me. I hadn’t even realized he was there.
At least I can answer the question of who, though. Mid-struggle, I freeze at the sight of his face.
“You were at the party.” It’s the guy who tried to grab me before. The one who wanted to buy me for two million dollars.
“For a little guy, you’ve been a lot of fucking trouble,” he grits out. He’s trying to pull me backward, and I’m trying not to let him, but he outweighs me by a lot.
“You know what? Get in line.” I nearly roll my eyes. “People have been telling me I’m annoying for years now. If I’m such a pain in your ass, why were you trying to buy time with me?”
“I don’t want any time with you.” His arm ratchets around me tighter.
Even as his voice takes on a tone that’s almost apologetic.
“It’s nothing against you. What we needed was an investment.
Daniel Corvus was short-sighted to limit auctioning you off to the wealthy in Belle Argo when there are much deeper pockets elsewhere in the world.
Some of those guys would absolutely salivate over a tiny, feisty thing like you. ”
A boulder sinks into my stomach. When Liam kept insisting on the danger of the auction and I kept blowing him off, all I’d been thinking of was what an enthusiastic or slightly sadistic buyer might want to do.
I figured I knew myself well enough to know that a guy handling me too roughly wouldn’t be much different than going streaking through a warehouse full of guys with guns.
It might not be sexy, but I could handle it.
Maybe it would even be sort of exciting.
If I was really lucky, I might get off on it.
Honestly, the wills had been more of an I’ll-never-need-this-but-I’ll-do-it-anyway sort of thing.
Whatever Liam thinks of Brennan, I know he stakes his reputation on having quality employees. He draws a hard line on “mishandling the merchandise.”
This is something else though. “Are you saying you wanted to resell me or something? Is that why you were trying to get me for cheap?” In spite of everything, I almost want to pat myself on the back for actually thinking someone paying two million for me would have been cheap. If the guys could see me now.
But as the puzzle pieces snap together, I struggle harder. Every calculation I made hinged on a certain set of assumptions. Never once did it occur to me that someone might want to do something other than bid on me and fuck me. Or…you know, fuck-adjacent.
“It wasn’t an easy decision. You’re so pretty and delicate. The trouble is, I’m in deep with some guys who make Brennan Doyle look like a toddler playing dress-up. If it weren’t for that? Mmm. You’re so soft. Flexible. Gorgeous. I’d love nothing more than to lose my cufflinks inside you.”
Lose his—oh. OW.
I’ve done enough research on that to know it’s not my thing.
“We’re in real trouble now,” he breathes. “The money we put into getting you was supposed to be returned to us by our overseas investors. I hope you’ll understand. I can’t lose that money now. Shit’s been underwater for too long.”
When he lets me go and takes a step back, I’m honestly confused. Is he letting me go?
Oddly, it’s the sad look on his face that gets me before I even realize the gun he’s got his gun pointed right at me.
“Ravi!”
Oh. Thank. God.
That’s Liam’s voice. Taking my eyes off the gun in front of me would be stupid, but I want to. The urge to spin around and see for myself that he’s okay is nearly impossible to override. But then the guy glances over my shoulder, and I see him adjust his aim.
Then it hits me. He won’t shoot me, right? He can’t. He said he needs me. To sell me.
He’ll shoot Liam, though. I know he will. So I take a breath, I put my head down, and I run myself straight into him.
My head and shoulder hit with a painful thud.
There’s a boom that makes my ears ring as I make contact, landing on top of him.
There’s a flash of numbness and cold, adrenaline pumping through me, and for a moment I’m not sure if I’ve been shot and I can’t feel it.
But then I realize the guy I’m on is staring sightlessly at the evening sky.
There’s a hole in his head. Liam did this. Liam shot him.
“I’m okay,” I yell as I push off the body.
My hand slips in the growing pool of blood, making me gag. So, not exactly okay, but I’m not too hurt. He probably bruised me. My hands and arms are scraped from where I fell. But I’ll be fine.
Better than this guy.
It hits me as I look down at the face of the man who wanted to sell me and ship me off to God knows where, as I take in his unseeing eyes and the blood and whatnot coming out of the bullet hole…
I’m not dizzy. I’m not panicking. This is a bad guy—a worse guy—who wanted to hurt me.
Who’s probably hurt others. He deserved it.
The thought puffs my chest. Honestly, this is kind of empowering.
“Liam, are you okay?”
No answer. I get to my feet and look around, which is when I see a crumpled heap on the dock where Liam is supposed to be. Slumped over. Twisted. Wrong.
I try to shout again but my lungs don’t work.
Liam, he’s just…lying there. Not moving.