Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“Mm. So good,” she mumbled around a mouthful of cookie and grabbed another. “Better than sex.”
He dunked his Oreo into his full glass of milk and looked over at her on the sofa. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Her bottomless browns widened a fraction, and she rolled her tongue over the drop of milk on her lip.
“It’s been forever. I can’t even remember what sex is like.
” Her eyes closed and that adorable pinkish hue bloomed on her face, overlapping the slight dusting of freckles that crossed over the top of her nose and beneath her eyes.
“And I can’t believe I’m so forgettable.”
She set the Oreo on the napkin atop the glass coffee table in front of them, then pressed her hands to her jeaned thighs. Her attention averted to the lilies he bought her positioned at the center of the table in a plain cream-colored vase.
“There’s something you should know.” She paused to take a breath.
“I distinctly remember jumping into your arms and attempting to climb you like a tree once we were in the hotel room.” Her blush deepened, her eyes now on the hardwood beneath her bare feet.
“After that, I don’t remember anything, but I don’t want you to feel like you took advantage of me.
We were both super drunk. It’s also fairly possible I took advantage of you. ”
He coughed into a closed fist, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “Regardless of who did what, I should’ve taken responsibility and not let it go that far. Alcohol or not. I’m really damn sorry.” He set down the uneaten Oreo and dusted the crumbs from his hands.
She reached out and gently pressed her palm atop the back of his hand, and the gesture had his heartbeat dialing up as if he were back in BUD/S about to enter Hell Week.
“We’re two responsible adults.” She looked him in the eyes. “We’re both to blame for the wild sex.”
“What makes you think it was wild?” He couldn’t help but smile.
He’d had her up against the wall naked.
On the hotel couch naked.
Then in the shower—obviously naked.
Yeah, it’d been . . . damn, his dick stirred in his pants as he thought about that night.
She retracted her hand. “I’m sure it was, and I wish I remembered it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I mean”—she made a circle in the air with her hand—“have you seen your body?” She chuckled. “Sorry, I’m honest to a fault.”
And he loved that about her. It was refreshing. “You didn’t tell Sam, though?”
“No, and I’m guessing for the same reason you didn’t tell anyone.”
“I told Jessica and Asher,” he said before thinking his words through, but the admission was almost freeing. “I mean, I didn’t go into detail, but I mentioned we got married.”
“And were they pissed?” Her voice slightly wavered.
“I think they were too busy removing their jaws from the floor to say much,” he said as she stood and walked across the room to stand before the floor-to-ceiling window. “You ought to keep your blinds closed, especially at night.”
“Normally I remember to close them, especially because of the apartment across the street.”
“What about it?” The idea of some creep spying on her had him quickly at her side, his trigger finger itchy.
She pointed toward a softly lit-up room on the other side of the two-lane road. A guy had a woman pinned to the wall, and by the looks of it—maybe cuffed.
“Pretty sure that’s his red room of pain, and he’s clearly not shy about it.” She shot him a look and scrunched her nose with disgust.
“A red what?”
“I know you’re busy saving the world and all,” she said with a smile, “but how could you not have heard of—” Her mouth opened into a cute O-shape before she playfully swatted his chest. “You just wanted to hear me explain, didn’t you?”
He pressed a palm to the glass at his side. “Just a little bit.”
That laugh of hers he loved so much—the infectious one—well, right now, it had his pulse elevating, and had him officially forgetting the confrontation with his brother.
“So, yeah, I usually have these blinds closed at night.”
“I don’t blame you.” He reached for the string to close them, but then his gaze veered toward the street below.
“Something wrong?”
He fully faced the window, trying to get a better view of her bodyguard’s car. “Your driver looks like he’s asleep. He’s face forward over the wheel.”
“We’re on the third floor, how can you tell?” She paused. “Right. You and details.”
“You still have a gun?” He kept his voice as steady as possible.
“Yeah, but—”
“We need to get you out of here.” He dropped the blinds closed then reached for her arm, his heart pounding as a sense of urgency grabbed hold of him. “You have a fire escape?”
“It’s an old drop-down ladder, and it’s broken. I placed a work order to get it fixed, but it won’t—”
“Okay. Change of plans.” His hand slid down her forearm before he held on to her wrist. “Where’s the gun?”
“In my safe,” she said as they moved. “Why don’t we go out the front door? And why do you think there’s danger?”
“Because someone may have just killed your bodyguard, which means they’re probably on their way up here now.”
“My-my closet,” she said, almost breathlessly. Panic clearly setting in. “The, uh, gun.”
Once inside her bedroom, he closed and locked the door, and she went into her closet. He flicked off the bedroom light, then turned on the adjoining bathroom light as well as the shower.
They returned to the room at the same time, and he grabbed hold of her shoulders instead of taking the 9mm from her outstretched hand and looked into her eyes.
“Listen to me very carefully. I want you to go into your bathroom and lock the door. Then call your boss and let him know what’s happening.
This could be a coordinated attack against everyone working your case—have him phone the cops.
” He let go of her and grabbed his cell from his pocket, entered the passcode, and placed it in her free hand.
“If anyone other than me tries to get into the bathroom, you don’t hesitate. You shoot. Remember how?”
She blinked rapidly as if trying to summon a response. “Ye-yes.”
He pointed toward the bathroom. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
“And what about you?” Her lips tucked inward, as if biting back a Please, don’t do this. “Don’t you need the gun?”
“I’m fine.” He shifted his head to the side and listened to the familiar sound of a door being breached. “Someone’s here.” Her mouth parted, and for some crazy reason, he brushed his lips over hers then whispered, “Shoot if it’s not me.”
“I, uh . . . be careful.”
He motioned for her to get into the bathroom, and then he quietly unlocked the bedroom door.
He grabbed the knife strapped near his ankle beneath his pant leg—his emergency go-to if shit ever got hairy when he was in civvies—and then he pressed his back flat to the wall alongside the door and waited.
The knob twisted, and the door slowly moved inward, light from the hall spilling into the room.
Liam raised his free arm like an axe and dropped it onto the man’s wrist, knocking the intruder’s gun to the floor.
The guy was a freaking goliath. Taller than pro-basketball tall. And as big as an MMA heavyweight.
The man jerked to the side to face him and shot Liam a who-the-fuck-are-you look. The good news—Liam had the advantage of surprise. The bad—the guy was still a damn beast, and within seconds, he deflected Liam’s attempt to stab him.
He sucker punched Liam in the side, then got in an upper punch beneath his chin, before using his body weight to push Liam back a few steps.
Liam bobbed and missed the next swing and brought the knife back to the guy’s right side this time, but the son of a bitch not only dodged and missed, he whacked the blade free from his grip.
What the fuck?
Maybe he’d gotten too comfortable on the long gun and needed to up his game in hand-to-hand, but first, he had to drop the bastard.
Another left hook to Liam’s jaw sent his head over his shoulder, but he shook it off, cracked his neck, and lifted his guard in front of his face.
“Where’s the girl?” Goliath’s gaze veered to the bathroom door, and Liam took the split-second distraction to grab hold of him and yank him forward while forcing a knee to the groin. Yeah, he’d play dirty if he had to.
The guy groaned, then Liam swept the intruder’s leg with his own and dropped him to the floor.
The gun had been kicked around when they’d fought, and now Goliath made a play for it.
Liam lowered his weight atop the man, both legs on each side of him, but Goliath had already secured the weapon.
Liam locked his hands around the man’s forearms and tried to force the muzzle toward the ceiling, using all of his muscle and energy to try and wrangle the gun away.
“Drop it!”
Liam blinked at the sound of Emily’s voice—at the fact she was in the room and now putting herself in danger to try and help him.
The guy squirmed but didn’t drop the firearm.
“Take the shot,” he yelled, knowing he might get hit in the process. “Just take it!”
“I don’t want to hit you.”
He couldn’t look back to see where she was standing, but he knew what he had to do. She’d never shoot with him in harm’s way, and he’d have to trust her training.
“Now!” He slid off the guy and to the left, losing hold of his forearms so she could take the shot, and hopefully peg him before Goliath could squeeze off a round.
A familiar ping hit his ears, and the guy’s arm fell, letting go of the gun.
“Oh, God. Are you okay?” She crouched to Liam’s side.
“Yeah. Nice shooting.” He secured the other firearm and checked the man’s weak pulse. He’d been shot center mass. A perfect fucking shot.
“No one else came with him, right?”
“Doesn’t look that way.” He pressed his hands to the wound. “Can you get me something to help stop the bleeding? I doubt we can keep him alive, but I’m going to try. We need answers.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“You were brave,” he rasped as she stood and turned on the light. “You should’ve stayed in the bathroom, but you may also have saved both of us.”