27. Liam
27
LIAM
T yler hangs up. I notice Ava is on the verge of panicking so I calm her down until she breathes easier, resting in the nook of my arm. I glance at the clock. 8:27 a.m. We can stay in bed a little longer.
And then it hits me.
The pasta.
I sit up abruptly, shifting Ava in the process. She makes an irritated noise, blindly reaching for me. "Where the hell are you going?"
I throw the sheets off. "We forgot to eat."
Ava blinks blearily, still half-asleep. "What?"
"The pasta," I say, already moving. "I made pasta and we forgot to eat it."
A beat of silence. Then, begrudgingly, "That's actually tragic."
"Exactly."
Ava groans and flops dramatically onto her stomach. "Fine. But I'm not moving unless there's coffee."
I chuckle, already heading to the kitchen. "You drive a hard bargain, Bennett."
By the time she drags herself out of bed, yawning and grumbling about how I have way too much energy for a man who just had this much sex, the coffee is ready, and the pasta is heating up on the stove.
Ava shuffles in wearing my shirt, looking perfect as ever, like sunshine after a month of rain. I ignore the way my heart skips and slide a steaming mug across the counter.
She takes it like a lifeline, inhaling deeply. "Okay. I forgive you for making me get up."
I chuckle. "High praise."
Ava hops onto the counter, watching as I move around the kitchen. "So, pasta for breakfast. Bold choice."
I arch a brow, setting two plates on the island. "Pasta is a perfect breakfast."
She grins, popping a forkful into her mouth. The second she tastes it, her eyes flutter shut, a small, sinful sound escaping her lips.
I grip my coffee mug tighter.
She hums, eyes still closed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I do love you for your cooking."
I exhale a laugh, leaning against the counter. "I'll take it."
We eat in comfortable silence, the scent of fresh coffee mixing with garlic and tomato, the early morning light streaming through the windows. It should be mundane. Ordinary.
It's not.
Because this—us, here, together—isn't a temporary arrangement anymore. Which means it's really, really special.
The second we finish eating, reality crashes back down.
Vanessa. The warehouse. The fact that we have less than twenty-four hours to prepare for whatever the hell she's planning.
I rinse the plates, my mind already shifting into strategy mode. "I need to go through everything we have on her again. Make sure we're not missing anything."
Ava, now fully awake and back in battle mode, nods. "Good. I'll help."
I glance at her. "Ava?—"
"No," she interrupts immediately. "Whatever you're about to say? No."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling. "I wasn't going to say?—"
"You were going to say that I should stay out of it," she counters, crossing her arms. "That it's too dangerous. That I should ‘let you handle it.'"
I sigh. "It is dangerous."
She lets out a sound that could be a hiss or a snort, eyes flashing. "Liam, you don't get to sideline me. This is my family's safety on the line, too."
I clench my jaw, but she steps closer, her voice lowering. "You can't keep trying to protect me by shutting me out."
I stare at her, at the fierce determination written all over her face, and I know she's not the same woman she was when this all started. She's not running. She's not breaking.
She's fighting.
And she's right.
I frown at her. "I don't like it."
Ava plants her hands on her hips. "Noted."
I level her with a look. "But you're in."
She tries to hide her grin, but she's shit at it. "Also noted."
For the next few hours, we work.
The coffee pot is refilled three times. Tyler sends over more encrypted files, most of which I already recognize, but a few contain newer details—security footage from Vanessa's usual haunts, transaction logs that paint a clearer picture of just how many people she's been paying off.
Ava and I sit side by side, piecing together patterns, mapping out every move she's made.
The plan becomes clear.
We'll make Vanessa think I'm coming alone. She needs to believe she has the upper hand, that she's in control. Meanwhile, Ava, Tyler, and the Bennetts will be in position, ready to take her down the second she reveals her hand.
Simple.
But nothing about Vanessa Chase is ever simple.
By early afternoon, the loft is silent, and my whole focus is on Ava, just existing in my space. It's actually lovely.
My attention is pulled away by Tyler's call.
"Shoot." I exhale lightly, certain that this won't be good news.
"Cliff Reyes is also snooping around the warehouse." Tyler sounds exhausted. "Liam, whatever you do, do it carefully."
He doesn't see me nod, but once he hangs up, my mind shifts into a familiar mode—strategy, control, anticipation. Cliff Reyes isn't just some errand boy. He's Vanessa's insurance policy, the guy she brings in when she wants to send a message, loud and clear.
Which means tomorrow night isn't going to be a polite conversation.
I set my phone down, exhaling slowly. Across the loft, Ava stands at the counter, absentmindedly tapping her fingers against her coffee mug. She's still wrapped in my shirt, her hair a wild mess from sleep, her brows drawn together in thought.
She looks up, catching my gaze. "Bad news?"
I hesitate. "Not unexpected news."
Ava straightens, eyes narrowing. "What?"
I push off the couch, crossing the room. "Vanessa's bringing backup."
She frowns immediately. "Let me guess. Cliff?"
I nod.
She swears under her breath, arms crossing over her chest. "Great. That's just what we needed."
I don't disagree. Cliff isn't the kind of guy who bluffs. If he's there, it means Vanessa isn't just planning to gloat. She's prepared for things to get messy.
Which means we need backup, too.
I reach for my phone again, scrolling through my contacts. Ava's eyes flick to the screen, and she frowns. "Who are you calling?"
I hesitate, then hit Dial .
Dean picks up on the second ring.
"Carter?" His voice is sharp, edged with suspicion.
"Yeah." I rub a hand down my jaw, already bracing for an argument. "We need to talk."
A beat of silence. Then, "Is Ava okay?"
I glance at her. She's watching me carefully, listening.
"She's fine," I say.
Dean's quiet for a second before speaking once more. "You calling because you need something?"
I don't flinch. "Yeah. I am."
Silence.
Then, "What is it?"
I let out a slow breath. "Vanessa has a meeting tomorrow night. A warehouse in North Hill. She's bringing hired help, not sure how that could play out."
A sharp exhale. "Damn it."
"Yeah." My grip tightens on the phone. "I'm going. I'll handle it. But I need to know that if things go south, Ava has someone looking out for her."
Another pause.
Then, when Dean speaks again, his voice is quieter. "You really think I'd let anything happen to my sister?"
"No," I say honestly. "But I need to hear you say it."
A heavier silence.
Then, "Whatever my issues with you, Carter… You've proven that you care about her. I'll help."
It's not a peace offering. Not an apology. But it's something.
A truce.
"I appreciate it," I say. And I mean it.
Dean breathes sharply, like he's already regretting this. "Just don't get yourself killed."
"Not part of the plan." I hang up, turning back to Ava. She's still watching me, her expression unreadable.
"You called Dean," she says.
I nod.
"And he agreed."
I nod again.
She tilts her head, studying me like I'm an unfamiliar puzzle piece that suddenly fits in a way she never expected. "Huh."
I raise a brow. "What?"
She shakes her head, a slow smile tugging at her lips. "Nothing. Just… I wasn't sure you two would ever have a civil conversation again."
I huff a laugh. "Not sure we did."
But she steps closer, her hands pressing against my chest, grounding me. "Thank you," she says softly.
And something in me settles.