Chapter 24 Liam
LIAM
“Sweet dreams,” I murmur once Aurora is face down on the table. Good thing I moved the bowl, or she’d be inhaling what little she left in it. The bisque is truly exquisite.
The sedative Dr. Baker gave me worked just as fast as he said it would.
She never tasted it in the soup, either, although he assured me she wouldn’t.
It was almost too easy. I stand and round the table and almost have to throw her heavy body over my shoulder to get her out of the chair and into my arms. She is truly out cold.
Once I’ve laid her on the bed, I send him a text. Ready to go. He’ll be waiting in the garage by now, according to schedule. She won’t know a thing about what’s happening, at least not while it’s happening.
“I hate to do this.” She can’t hear me, but that doesn’t stop me from explaining myself. “I have to be more careful than ever. This isn’t a punishment. It’s precaution.” She hasn’t flinched, doesn’t groan, nothing.
Once she’s settled in, I meet the doctor in front of the elevator and lead him into the bedroom. “It won’t take long,” he promises. “A simple procedure.”
“Will she know it’s there?”
He gives me a kindly smile that tells me he thinks I’m worried about her well-being. That’s probably for the best. “It won’t hurt a bit. She might be a little sore at first, but I’ve been told the sensation fades in a day or two.”
“But she’ll know something is in there?”
This time, he gives me a look that tells me he’s worried about my sanity. “I’m implanting a tracking device in her. Yes, she will know it’s there when she feels the insertion point.”
I’ll never hear the end of it.
But I’m willing to live with the consequences if it means keeping her where I need her to be.
The next time she decides to run away, I might not be able to find her.
It could be her father who tracks her down next time.
The reports from Crawford painted a bleak picture.
“These are new, previously undetected offshore accounts. I managed to connect them to Donovan.” He sounded like he knew exactly how pissed I would be.
He was right. I was stunned, too. There were three accounts listed, holding millions of dollars in total. “Shell companies,” he explained. “All of the names are a play on the name of his late wife, Dominique.” Dominion. Dominate. DomDon.
According to Crawford, there could be more. Many more. The son of a bitch worked overtime insulating himself from outsiders who might take what was his. I managed to uncover most of it prior to the ambush, but there’s still enough that he can go anywhere at any time. He has the resources.
And now, he has the benefit of his presumed death to shelter him from repercussions.
Staring down at her, I think of him. Would he put any effort into finding her?
If it meant taking her away from me, there’s not a doubt in my mind.
But he wouldn’t do it for her sake. Not to protect her from me.
I have no reason to believe anything she told me about their relationship was a lie—you can’t fake the bitterness I heard in her voice. The sadness.
The doctor goes about his routine, using an alcohol wipe to clean the area under her shoulder blade. He then touches a scalpel to her flesh. She twitches, and it does something to me I didn’t expect. It’s almost enough to make me stop him. Almost, but not quite.
The tracker itself is damn near minuscule. He slides it into the pocket he created, then uses glue to close the wound. “Easy as that,” he announces, cleaning her up. “As for the rest, I take it you can figure it out. I never was any good at that technical stuff.”
I leave her on her side, pulling the blankets up around her.
She’s going to hate me for this. I can live with it.
Once she’s covered, I take out my phone and pull up the app linked to the device.
Already, there is a blue blinking light telling me where I can find her, along with a basic outline of the bedroom’s layout. It’s almost disturbing, the accuracy.
“Thank you, as always.” I show the doctor to the elevator after handing over a wad of cash. He isn’t exactly the kind of doctor you draw up invoices for. Once he’s gone, I check the room again. She hasn’t moved.
I then head down the hall to my office, closing the door for privacy.
I doubt she could hear me, floating in whatever dreamworld the sedative put her in, but I can’t take chances.
How would she react if she knew Donovan is alive?
Who does she hate more, me or him? The meeting I called with the team is due to start any minute.
I log in to our secure channel and find them waiting for me, three familiar faces filling my screen.
“Took you long enough,” Selina jokes.
“Probably busy now that the wife is back home,” Ethan mutters, smirking.
“Yes, she is back home,” I confirm. “I didn’t call this meeting to talk about her.”
Nick’s eyes move over the screen. “What did you call it for?”
Forget wasting time, easing them into it. “Crawford was here earlier. He found three offshore accounts we were unaware of.”
Selina goes ghost-white. “That’s impossible.”
“Not from where I’m sitting. He has millions at his disposal, still.
” The thought makes my head pound until I can barely hear anything but the sickening drumbeat.
“Congratulations, everyone. We made it possible for him to vanish into thin air with no one searching for him, because it’s assumed he’s dead. ”
Nick sits back in his chair, blowing out a sigh. “Now we know how he manages to stay under the radar,” he murmurs, staring at the ceiling. “He’s had money hidden away all this time.”
“This fucker’s luck has to run out,” Ethan snarls. “It can’t last forever.”
“Nothing does,” I point out, not that it’s any relief.
“What do we do?” Selina asks. She is still pale, wide-eyed. I’m not used to seeing her this way—normally, she’s the most clear-headed of all of us.
Normally, she does better at her job. Granted, it was my mission to uncover Donovan’s secrets, but she was tasked with working her magic.
Hacking him, connecting the dots, uncovering the trail to his ill-gotten gains.
I might not think twice about it if it wasn’t for the kitchen incident and her mysteriously corrupted file.
I hate having to think twice, having to doubt.
“I have Crawford digging for more information,” I tell them.
“The song remains the same whether or not he uncovers more accounts. Donovan has everything he needs as it stands. We need to start looking into real estate records. Other properties he might own where he can hide out. I’ll send you the names of his shell accounts as a starting point,” I announce.
“Do not stop until he is found and the job is finished.”
“What about her?”
I don’t like the way Selina says it. “She does have a name.”
She ignores me, narrowing her eyes and wrinkling her nose the way she always does when she’s frustrated. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you plan on breaking your arrangement with Gabriel Russo. He still expects a bride out of this.”
Burning rage sweeps over me like wildfire, threatening to consume my self-control. Gabriel.
Three pairs of familiar eyes stare at me, expecting a response that will bring them comfort. “He’ll get his bride,” I grit out, clenching both fists in my lap until my joints scream from the pressure. “We made a deal, and I’ll uphold my end of it.”
“You sure about that?” Selina asks.
“Did I stutter?” I fire back. “The plan is still in place. Aurora is his once this is all over.” The words leave me with a conviction I don’t feel.
Fuck. How am I going to hand her over?
Nick steps in, reading the situation the way he always does and bringing an end to it. “All right. Let’s get back to work. I hope I get to put a bullet in the fucker’s head myself. If only to pay him back for making us do all this extra work.”
When the call is finished, I lean back, pinching the bridge of my nose, willing away the headache that wants so much to take hold. I was so close to having everything, and now, in so many ways, I feel farther from my goal than ever before.
With new complications I didn’t have to consider back then. Before all of this started, I trusted Selina implicitly. All of them. I relied on their expertise. Now, all I can do is wonder whether any of them have a reason to betray me. If Selina can do an about-face, any of them can.
I’m turning into a paranoid old bastard.
Hence, the tracker now embedded in my wife’s back.
The thought of her gets me out of my chair and back to the bedroom.
The guards are changing shifts—the pair I assigned in front of the elevator nod as they leave while the next two take their seats, one on either side of the sliding doors.
I am taking no chances anymore. She’s not getting away from me.
I would love to make her pay dearly for what she’s put me through, but I have my limits. I’m not leaving her vulnerable so that the bastard can use her. No fucking way.
She’s still out cold, though she’s moved around since I left her.
Somehow, she managed to kick away her blanket, which is now lying in a twisted pile by her feet.
Without thinking, I straighten the blanket and pull it up over her body.
She’s rolled onto her back, her face turned toward me, lips parted so she can breathe slowly in and out.
She killed two men to get away from me. She did what she felt she had to do to gain her freedom. I don’t know, still, whether I resent her for it or admire the courage it took.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh, her head rolling from one side to the other and back again.
A bad dream? A memory? I reach out to brush a lock of golden hair away from her forehead and can’t resist the impulse to let my fingertips trace the curve of her cheek. Creamy skin, soft, warm.
“Mm…” It’s a soft sound, but it has the power to wake up the desire that’s always lying in wait when it comes to her. Her eyelids flutter slightly before she moans again in her sleep. “... Liam…”
I can’t resist another impulse that roars to life when I hear her say my name that way. I lean in, brushing my mouth against hers, and let myself forget everything outside this room, if only for a little while.