Chapter 26 Liam
LIAM
After two days, it’s clear I’ve discovered something else Aurora has in common with her bloodthirsty prick of a father: she knows how to hold a grudge.
I’m not going to apologize. She brought it on herself.
If she didn’t want a tracker implanted, she shouldn’t have murdered two of my men and gone on the run like some half-assed heroine in a boring movie.
I refuse to apologize for doing what I needed to do for the sake of protection.
And she can go to hell if she feels otherwise.
All I have to do now is rehearse those lines until I believe them.
The sad fact is, I don’t enjoy knowing she feels this way.
All this time, I relied on the differences between Donovan and me.
I was better than him. I might have hurt or even killed, but I always had a reason. Something deeper than greed, at least.
Two days spent getting the cold shoulder has me thinking twice. The silence is a gift—that’s not what I mind. I’m fine with being able to hear myself think.
It’s the haunted look in her eyes whenever we cross paths that’s a knife to my chest. The accusations she doesn’t voice but might as well scream night and day. I’m a better man than her father could ever dream of being, but something tells me my defense would fall on deaf ears if I tried it out.
Anyway, I doubt I would believe myself.
“Good morning.” I won’t play her game. I’m going to treat her the way I always have. It’s up to her if she wants to make the rest of her time here miserable as hell.
All I get is a cold, silent stare before she pushes her way past, heading for the bathroom once I’m showered and shaved.
She’s damn lucky I’m skilled at controlling my emotions, or she would be in serious trouble.
I’m so fucking angry I can hardly see straight by the time she slams the bathroom door hard enough to make the mirror over the dresser rattle.
I can’t believe how much I care what she thinks. Soon, she won’t be my problem anymore. I have an agreement to fulfill, unless I feel like inviting another lifetime’s worth of headaches. This part of my life will only be a memory.
Why doesn’t that feel true? If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to be honest with myself. Anything else is a waste of time, not to mention dangerous. If I can’t trust myself, who can I trust?
That’s why I force myself to look at the situation honestly while I finish drying off and dress in a pair of charcoal slacks and a black button-down.
The reason I can’t shake my lingering guilt—which is what it is, I can’t pretend otherwise—is the same reason why the thought of handing her over to Russo makes my throat close up until breathing takes conscious effort.
I don’t want to give her up. I want her to be mine. Not Gabriel’s, not anyone else’s. Which means she very much needs to go. Gabriel is not the kind of guy you want as an enemy. It would be unforgivably stupid to cross him or his brother.
But I’ll be damned if the idea hasn’t been swirling around inside my head.
It’s even there now, at the front of my thoughts while I finish tucking in my shirt, the way it was there while I shaved, while I washed my hair.
It was the last thing I thought of before I fell asleep last night, and the first thing on my mind when I opened my eyes.
I hear a clock ticking in my head all the time, signaling the inevitable, and I would give anything to stop time.
I care too much, bottom line. She was the one variable I never saw coming. A variable with a death stare which she doesn’t waste, glaring at me again once she emerges from the bathroom.
“You and I need to have a talk,” I tell her before she breezes past me, pretending she didn’t hear. “Aurora, quit this childish bullshit. This is important.”
“There you go, judging what matters. Deciding what’s important and what isn’t.” The first words she’s said to me in days. “What must it feel like, getting high off your own greatness all the time?”
“There is something extremely important we need to discuss.”
“I don’t really care what you think is important. You thought this was, didn’t you?” She points to the spot where the tracker was inserted. “I think it’s safe to say we don’t agree on what is and isn’t important.”
I need to find a way to earn her trust back.
Not because I have a mission or a goal. Not because I’m worried she’ll run again.
I have selfish motives this time. I need her to stop looking at me like I’m the enemy.
Some monster who is worthy of nothing but her disdain.
When I wasn’t paying attention, I started to care too much about what she thinks and how she feels.
“There’s something I’ve been keeping from you, and I think you deserve to know it.”
Her furious hair-brushing slows, though she doesn’t say a word.
“It might come as a real shock. I think you should sit down.”
“I’m fine where I am.”
She can have it her own way. “Somehow, your father found a way to survive the fire. He’s still alive, Aurora.”
She sways on her feet, and my hands flex, wanting to reach for her, to grab and hold. “How do you know that?” she mutters, staring at her own reflection while leaning against the dresser. I don’t think she sees herself. Her eyes are unfocused, her voice barely a whisper.
“Suffice to say we know for sure. The body found in the house was not his. We’re trying to find him,” I explain. Does she hear me? Or is she lost in the past, remembering every ounce of his cruelty?
“How long have you known?” she whispers. There’s a haunted sound to her voice. Finally, she looks at me, turning around to give me her full attention.
“A while.” Her head tips to the side. “Since before the funeral.”
She sighs deeply, and the sound is filled with disappointment. “I see. So there you were, bending over backward to rub it in that you killed him, and you knew he was alive. He outsmarted you somehow.”
“Do us both a favor,” I mutter before she can go any further. “Don’t act like you think this is a good thing. I know better than that.”
She looks away with a soft groan because she knows I’m right. “Thank you for telling me, I guess. I’m still not sure why you chose to now.”
“We’re on the same side. Don’t you get that?” She scoffs, giving me no choice but to double down. “We are a team. We have to act like it.”
“Exactly what do I get out of us being part of a team? Actually, let me rewind.” Again, she bends an arm over her shoulder, jerking a thumb at the general area where the tracker was planted. “This is how you treat your team? Do you drug them? Plant a tracker in them?”
“All right. Let’s not pretend you didn’t earn that.”
“I wanted my freedom! I did what any sane person would do: fought the people who were holding me against my will and ran away.”
“And how much fun was that for you?” Let her scoff and roll her eyes and slam her hairbrush on the dresser all she wants.
She knows I’m right. “If I don’t trust you yet, that’s on you.
This is the consequence of your actions coming back to bite you in the ass.
But if you meet me halfway, I’ll give you a little more freedom. ”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“How exactly?”
“Lose the attitude,” I warn, “or you won’t get shit. I am trying here. Meet me halfway.”
After blowing out a deep breath, she asks, “What did you have in mind?” Her voice is softer, though there’s still an edge to it. I’ll be damned if I don’t almost admire her for it. She won’t give up.
“Come with me.” I don’t bother waiting or checking over my shoulder to see if she’ll follow. She will. Curiosity won’t let her do anything else.
Sure enough, I’m at my desk, opening the bottom drawer, when she joins me. “Well? What do you have in mind?” she asks, belting her robe tighter.
She has no idea how tempted I am to throw her over this desk and fuck the sass out of her.
It’s a temptation I can barely resist. “I have a gift for you.” With that, I present the brand-new laptop I put together for her.
Setting it on the desk, I explain, “Whatever you want to do with it, it will have the power. If you’re into gaming or would like to explore it, there’s a two-terabyte hard drive and a video card that would put just about any other model to shame.
But I thought you might like to use it for school. ”
Her eyes widen slightly before she can control her reaction, but it’s too late. I saw the way she lit up. “What school?”
“You said you were interested in studying psychology, didn’t you? This is your chance. I will gladly pay for the classes if that’s what you want to pursue.”
“You can’t be serious.” She lets out a laugh, her head snapping back in disbelief. “No way.”
“Why not? I mean it. I’m very serious.”
“But…” She creeps closer like an animal, on guard but curious. “Are you being for real?”
“Of course. Don’t get any ideas,” I warn before her imagination runs away with her. “This doesn’t mean you’ll have free rein to spend all day on the internet. Your activities will be monitored.”
My warning is the pin jabbed into a balloon. I see her face fall before she can help it. “So it’s the illusion of freedom. That’s what you’re telling me.”
“I never said you would have total freedom, did I? This is a step in the right direction, though. And if it makes you happier,” I add, “you don’t have to do this at all. I’ll take it back or use it for myself.”
“You know I want it,” she replies, dangerously close to snapping. She hears it, too, and tucks her hair behind her ears before chewing her lip. “I just don’t like the idea of being monitored.”
“Behave yourself, and you have nothing to worry about, right?” Her withering stare is all the response I need. “You can study all you want, live comfortably. You would want for nothing. You should know that by now.”
I’m not sure what passes over her face, exactly, but I know it isn’t gratitude. She blinks rapidly, her head cocked back, like she’s trying to understand and failing. “So I would live here as… what? Your actual, true wife?”
“We’d be partners. Real partners.” For now, at least. “Once we track down Donovan and move on with our lives, you could decide who it is you want to be. Do you want that?”
She does. It’s written all over her face. It glimmers in her eyes; it’s the warmth that colors her cheeks. To have a life of her own. It’s what she wants more than anything.
Or so I tell myself before her expression goes hard, blocking out the hope. “What’s the point of kidding ourselves?” I’ve never heard her sound this defeated. “We both know we would never be a team.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Then I do, and you haven’t caught up yet.
” She slowly shakes her head. I feel her sadness as if it’s a living, breathing thing weighing me down.
“I would always be your prisoner, Liam, because you could never bring yourself to trust me. Not all the way. I don’t think you could ever fully trust anybody. Why bother pretending?”
With that she turns on her heel and walks calmly from the room without a backward glance.
I don’t know what pisses me off more.
The fact that she got the last word.
Or the fact that she’s right. That she sees through my bullshit and has the nerve to call me out.