Chapter 17 Liam
Liam
Ipulled the black SUV off the road and into the thickest patch of pines I could find, branches scraping against the paint as I wedged it behind a wall of brush. I’d have it repainted for Troy. The engine ticked as it cooled, and on the seat next to me Jenny’s wide eyes met mine.
“Get in the back with Poppy,” I said quietly, keeping my voice calm even though my pulse thundered in my ears. “Stay on the floorboard. No matter what you hear, no matter what happens—don’t move until I come back for you.”
Jenny swallowed hard. “Liam—”
“Promise me.”
Her jaw trembled, but she nodded, pulling Poppy close. Poppy looked confused but didn’t cry, didn’t even ask questions. She just burrowed into Jenny’s arms, clutching the stuffed rabbit she’d refused to let go of since we left the carnival.
I stepped back, taking one last look at them before shutting the door. Then I ran.
Five miles of asphalt stretched ahead, and I pounded over it like the devil himself was chasing me, lungs burning, legs screaming. I didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down until I reached the stretch of road where Jarod would have to come.
The sun was dropping behind the trees, shadows crawling across the blacktop. I stood dead center, chest heaving, sweat rolling down my spine. My heart slammed against my ribs, not from the run but from what was coming.
I was done hiding. Done running.
Jarod wanted us? Fine.
He could have me.
The sound came first—low, distant, tires on gravel. Then the headlights sliced through the trees, crawling closer.
I didn’t move.
The SUV rolled into view, slowing when the driver saw me standing there like I’d been waiting all along.
And I had.
Jarod stepped out, his grin spreading wide, the kind of grin that made my fingers itch for the trigger.
“Well,” he drawled, voice carrying across the empty road. “Ain’t this somethin’? You lookin’ to die tonight, boy?”
I didn’t answer.
I just smiled back—and waited for him to make the first move.
Jarod took his time, like this was some kind of game. Like the two lives I was protecting didn’t matter.
He strolled toward me, boots scuffing the pavement, hands loose at his sides. He was confident. Too confident.
“You’ve been a real pain in my ass,” he said. “Hand over my daughter, and maybe I let you walk away.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. I wanted him close. Close enough that he thought he had the upper hand.
“Not happening,” I said.
His grin widened. “Then I guess you die.”
He went for his gun.
I was faster.
The crack of my first shot shattered the silence, his weapon flying from his hand as he screamed. He ducked behind his vehicle's door, bullets tearing through metal and glass as we traded fire. My ears rang. My blood pounded.
I moved fast, circling low, keeping him pinned. A shot whined past my head, close enough that I felt the heat of it.
“Come on out, hero!” Jarod shouted. “Let’s finish this!”
He didn’t have to invite me twice.
When he leaned out for another shot, I was already there, slamming into him like a freight train. His gun went flying, and we hit the asphalt hard.
We fought fiercely, fists flying, boots stomping. He was strong—desperate men always are—but anger made me stronger. Anger for the little girl hiding in the backseat. Anger for Jenny pressed against the floorboard, praying I’d come back alive.
He got in one good punch. Split my lip. Didn’t matter.
I drove my elbow into his jaw, felt the crunch, then caught his wrist when he tried to reach for the knife at his belt.
“Not tonight,” I growled, ripping it away and hurling it into the ditch.
He swung again, wild, sloppy. I ducked, slammed him back against the SUV door, and drove my fist into his gut until he wheezed.
“Game’s over, Jarod,” I said, low and deadly.
Sirens wailed in the distance—someone must’ve heard the shots. He looked toward the sound, and that was his mistake.
One solid punch, and he was down. Out cold.
I stood there, chest heaving, sweat and blood dripping onto the road, until the lights flashed through the trees.
Jenny and Poppy were safe.
For now.