Chapter 7
LIA
I’m next to this stranger, the man who casually stopped my potential assailant.
I was shocked by how fast Maksim moved for such a big man. He surged across the lot. Snatched up the attacker’s leg and swept him to the ground in a flash. I was reminded again of a big cat, the languid, easy movements drilled into instinct.
And then the embrace…
How can a simple, short embrace strike me just as fiercely as everything that came before? There’s so much tension in me. So much pain. For a few moments, it was like I could let it all go. Then I remembered… well, everything.
“It’s time for answers,” I say, my arms wrapped around myself as he drives us through the night. We’re stuck behind a motorcade with some important politician inside. “Who are you, really? Why do they want that phone?”
He grits his teeth, gripping the steering wheel hard. He’s huge and powerful, his muscles swelling through his tight black sweater. The streetlights shimmer off his dark, streaked hair.
Despite everything, attraction surges through me. A hot and hungry need that should have no place here.
“Hello, Earth to Maksim? Okay, let’s start with something simple. How do you have my cell number? I didn’t give it to you.”
He looks at me, his eyes glinting for a moment. “It’s not a difficult thing to get.”
“So, you’ve been following me?”
He stops at a red light, jaw tight.
“You can’t just ignore me,” I hiss. “You just assaulted a man outside my place of work.”
He chuckles darkly. “That’s one way to put it.”
I know I’m trying to needle him, but it’s easier than facing the confusing mess of feelings swirling inside of me. “That is what happened.”
“I saved you,” he grunts. “If I hadn’t been there, do you have any idea what would be happening to you right now?”
“No. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
He groans, then lets out a frustrated breath.
“The phone belongs to my organization. It’s important.
I’ve got no idea why Daniel Mercer took it, but I know that my rival wants it.
Badly. It would mean the end of my business and a whole host of other bad things too.
Bad people taking control of this city.”
“As opposed to the angels we have now?” I say dryly.
He pulls away from the red light, chuckling. Making him laugh feels good. “Fair point. But things can always get worse.”
“Why do they want me?”
“You went toe-to-toe with one of their scariest men and didn’t bat an eye. They might think you’re hiding the phone for a personal reason, that you know something. Maybe they saw us talking together. Maybe they think there’s a connection.”
“A connection,” I repeat.
“A business connection,” he says gruffly.
I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. There’s a pang in my heart when I think about how he subdued that man. And there’s a tightness somewhere else too, a place I can’t afford to acknowledge, when I think about the protective fire radiating from him.
His texts swirl around in my mind. He’s not going to let anyone hurt me…
He runs his hand through his hair.
I gasp, leaning forward automatically. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Let me have a look.”
I shouldn’t care if he’s hurt, but I do. That’s the cold fact. Just like I trusted him the first time we met because… because he spoke intimately, huskily? Is that a reason to trust someone?
Clearly, he didn’t hurt Joel. So my gamble paid off. But it was still a risk, just like every moment with him is.
I take his hand and gently turn it over. The electricity is immediate, surging through me, hot and urgent just like when he pulled me into his arms.
“You must’ve scuffed it on the concrete,” I murmur. “We’ll clean it at my place.”
“If it’s safe,” he growls.
“I can’t believe what my life has become,” I murmur, letting his hand go. It takes far more effort than it should. “All over a phone I know nothing about.” I lean against the window. “Are we going to talk about the fact you’re stalking me?”
“Protecting, Lia,” he growls.
“Doesn’t that usually require consent?”
“If I’d waited for consent, you’d be in a bad, bad place,” he says fiercely. “With bad things happening to you. I won’t apologize for keeping you safe.”
It’s a little annoying that I can’t argue with that. “I’m a thirty-year-old woman,” I say.
He inclines his head. “And I’m a forty-five-year-old man. I love long walks on the beach and being out in nature.”
“Really?” I ask, shocked.
He laughs grimly. “No, not really. Maybe I would, if I had the time to do anything like that. Or somebody to do it with.”
I laugh—then cut it off. It’s shocking how easily he can puncture my shield and make me giggle.
“I mean,” I go on, “that you don’t have to lie to me.
If you were going to keep watch anyway, you should have told me.
Obviously, if you weren’t here tonight, I would’ve been in big, big trouble. I get that. But it’s still difficult.”
“True,” he agrees. “I’m not used to telling the truth.”
“That’s reassuring.”
He shrugs. “It’s my world. It’s how everyone I know functions. It’s how I’ve always functioned. I don’t know how to change it.”
“Maybe start with me,” I murmur.
He glances at me. I’m sure there’s something he’s going to say. His jaw is clenched tightly. He turns back to the road.
“Well?”
“We need to get you someplace safe,” he says, tone growing dark. “That’s it. There’s nothing else on my mind except that. Everything else can come later.”
When we pull up outside my apartment building, a thought suddenly occurs to me. I forgive myself for not thinking of it sooner, considering everything that's happened.
“How do you know where I live?”
“There are records for everything a person has ever done,” he says. “Everywhere they’ve lived. Every job they’ve had. I accessed those records. And I’ve had my security team watching you, remember.”
A strange feeling grips me. I want to be angry.
It would be so much easier if I could just rage at him.
But that would ignore the fact that… yeah, part of me likes it.
A little part. Part of me enjoys the thought of being watched over, of being protected, of not having to be the one in control all the time.
“You like crossing boundaries, huh, Maksim?”
He looks at me with those cold-yet-light eyes.
It’s like he’s savage for the rest of the world but has a soft spot for me.
It touches me in an intimate way. I think again of those romance books Mom used to read, wondering if falling that fast really is a fairytale.
Now, it feels possible. It almost feels inevitable as we stare into each other’s eyes.
“With you,” he says fiercely.
He climbs from the car. I follow, experiencing that warm pang again when he stands so close to me, making sure nobody leaps from the dark. His arm brushes against me as we walk into my building. He scowls at the crumbling staircase and the graffiti on the wall.
“I know it’s not a palace,” I say defensively.
“You deserve somewhere better,” he says. “But I know it’s not your fault. I know you’ve got responsibilities.”
I blink. My eyes grow hot. More tears threaten. My emotions are all over the place at the moment. Could anybody blame me? My life has gone from work, Mom, home, work, to all this mayhem.
No one has ever acknowledged how tough it is. Tessa, a doctor from the hospital, knows a little. But I haven’t shared just how difficult it’s been, how tired I am all the time, the fact that I never felt like I got to grieve because I had to be there for Mom.
When we reach my floor, Maksim pushes me against the wall. He does it quickly, but he’s careful not to hurt me. He shields me with his big body and whispers, “Don’t make a sound. Your door is open.”
I’m aware of his hard body pushing against mine. He looks down at me with fire in those cold eyes. They’re hot now, burning, on fire. He’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters, and it makes me feel drunk. On him.
He approaches the door slowly. When he takes a gun from the back of his pants, a jolt of fear punches through me. I’m supposed to be curled up in bed, trying to summon the enthusiasm to watch a TV show or read a book before it’s time to get back on the grind tomorrow.
Instead, I’m staring at a man I may very well be attracted to, wondering if he’ll have to use that gun to kill men who want to kill me.
He pushes into the apartment. I look up and down the hallway, wondering if one of my neighbors will choose this moment to appear. But just like at work, we’re lucky.
Maksim emerges with a frown.
When I step inside, I see why. They’ve trashed the place.
My breath catches when I see a photo of me, Mom, and Evan on the floor, the picture frame shattered. All the cupboards are open. There’s trash everywhere. I try my best to keep it together. But when I find another shattered picture frame, the tears fall.
I collapse to my knees, grief gripping me. It’s like all the grief I’ve stowed away slams into me all at once.
“Liora,” he murmurs, kneeling next to me and putting his hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. These bastards have no respect. Who is that?”
I sniffle and look up at him. Something in my face must tell him how badly I need some support because he pulls me against him. I collapse into his chest, pressing my face against him. He holds me tight, running his fingers through my hair.
I’m not sure how long I cry for. I haven’t been held like this since Evan died. When I’m done, I’m shocked at myself at how much better I feel. I gently push him away, mumbling sorry.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he says fiercely.
“Evan was my brother,” I whisper. “He was hit by a drunk driver… They say he didn’t suffer. That’s the only good thing about this mess.”
He sighs. “I’m so, so sorry, Lia.”
“Thank you.” I stand on shaky legs. “I need to check on my mom.”
“We need to go,” He says. “You can’t stay here. You can file a police report from your new place, if you want. But for now, my only concern is your safety.”
“What about my Mom? She’s suffering enough as it is. I’ve just barely got her into a routine.”
He frowns. I can see he’s about to argue, but then it’s like he looks at me more closely, looks into me. He sees all the stuff everybody else always misses.
“I can put around-the-clock security on her place without her knowing,” he says. “How does that sound?”
I sniffle. “Yes, good, thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me,” he says gruffly. “I’m not a good man, Lia. But for you, I might roleplay for a while.”
He strides toward the door, suddenly gruff, distant. Did I cross a boundary by crying for so long and so hard into his chest? But he pulled me to him. Why would he do that if he wasn’t comfortable with it?
“I need to pack,” I say.
He stops at the door, turning, shaking his head. “I’ll send someone for your things. I’m not risking your safety any longer. We’re leaving.”
I wonder for a second what he’d do if I told him no. I’m going to the police instead. Would he throw me over his shoulder and carry me out of here?
More importantly, would I like it?