Chapter Forty-One
Liam couldn’t place his finger on exactly what Chelsea meant by paying him back for all he’d given her, but he had no doubt she’d offered him a compliment that went far beyond polite kudos.
Soft vulnerability had hushed her when she tried to explain the restrained kiss. No matter what her reasoning was, he wanted to keep the tightness in his chest that made his lungs feel as if they might explode.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“We’re done?” She glanced around, nodding to answer her question.
“I can’t think of anything we haven’t checked and rechecked.”
Her hand found his even as she seemed to run through a mental checklist. His shoulders tightened, and he hungered to pull her close, to ward away the harsh memories and the crisp fall air with her naked body wrapped around his.
When she finished her silent review, she said, “You’re right.”
Liam didn’t wait an extra second and hauled her inside to pack up their gear.
He checked his watch when Chelsea zipped the duffel bag. He hadn’t explained to her that they had a new vantage point to keep an eye on the Nymans’ home for unexpected visitors. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
Liam led Chelsea out the front door, waited for her to lock up, and angled her toward the neighbor’s house instead of his Explorer.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
Each time they’d been on lookout duty, they’d used their vehicles on the low-traffic road, positioned far enough away that no one would notice a familiar vehicle. The houses had yards large enough to provide a small layer of anonymity, but the setup was far from ideal.
“This way.”
Her steps slowed with uncertainty as they cut through the yard, and when they stopped on the neighbor’s front porch, her tension was visible.
“Are you a real estate agent and I didn’t know it?” she joked with apprehension.
“Not quite.” He produced his lockpick kit from the side of the duffel bag and unwrapped the pick and tension wrench from the protective leather hold.
“Liam, what are you doing?”
He slid the tools into the lock. “I thought it was evident.”
Her phone buzzed, and she yelped as if they had been caught red-handed doing something wrong. She dug into her purse, wincing as the phone rang again.
“Don’t freak out.”
She snorted. “Why would I when we’re breaking and entering? Oh, fudge pops. It’s Mac.”
Liam stifled an urge to say something smart-ass. It didn’t bug him that she had an overbearing partner. The idea of backup always made him more comfortable. But with everything she’d shared, Liam had decided that Mac was a first-class dickwad when he didn’t get his way.
“Hey.” She turned with the phone pressed to her ear. “Me? Now? Oh, nothing.”
The final key tumbler set, and the door unlocked. He swung it wide for her and stepped through to prove the coast was clear.
But she held up her finger, and he understood. She wanted to talk about Zee Zee Mars in private.
Liam let the door shut on its own and turned to drop his stuff.
Wow. The house was staged. The untouched white couches and fragile statues that teetered on top of modern furniture seemed out of place to him.
The house had the same layout as the Nymans’, though where their house was sincere, inviting, and lived in, the vacant one had been stripped of personality and decorated in an impossible-to-continue style.
Houses with so many bedrooms and backyards that called for swing sets shouldn’t have white couches and breakable art.
They were made for kids to run through and messes to be made.
The staging seemed like disappointment ready-to-happen.
The door opened, and Chelsea stepped through, flustered. Her pink cheeks were a different color from the aroused blush he liked. She seemed pissed.
“Everything okay?”
Chelsea glowered. “If okay means that there’s an incident with a fugitive I’ve spent years working on, but I am still benched, then everything is absolutely okay.”
“What’s up with that?” Not that he wanted to lose her help, but shit, bring in the experts when they were needed.
Her jaw sawed. “No idea.”
“I’d tell Mac to kiss my ass.”
“I should, and Calhoun, too,” she griped and added, “He’s our direct line supervisor.”
“Screw ’em all.” But his suggestion didn’t lighten her mood.
She tossed her phone into her purse. “Why are we in here?”
Liam looked around. “Because it beats sitting in my Explorer all night.”
“But that’s legal.”
He had a vision Senator Sorenson cackling if she pressed on the legalities of their work. “We have an exemption.”
“I’m serious, Liam.”
“So am I.”
“We don’t have anything that allows us to be in here.”
He spread his arms wide. “Yet here we are.”
“Don’t be a—” She shook her head.
An asshole? A donut hole? But Liam decided not to tease her. “Just trust me.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “You ask for a lot.”
His eyebrow arched. “Been worth it so far?”
“This is pretty,” she said instead of answering then gestured to the living room. “Not very practical, though.”
“I thought the same thing. Can you imagine growing up in fear of breaking vases and crap?”
She turned after a quick inspection. “That was how I grew up.”
He groaned. “Sorry.”
Chelsea shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway. Why are we here? This goes way beyond simply keeping an eye on Linda and Frank.”
“Think of it like an office.”
“Sure. One that could land us in prison.”
The comparison got under his skin. “Even if I wanted to explain every detail of this job, I can’t.”
She rolled her eyes.
“No one will come by while we’re here. Okay?”
Her stare hardened. “Even if you could, do you really want to?”
“Tell you?”
“Yes!”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Why can’t you trust me on this?”
“I should,” she muttered. “I’m already trusting you on everything else.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re treating me like some random chick when I ask for more information. It’s not unreasonable that I’d like to know why we’re picking locks.”
“No, Sunshine. I’m treating you like a partner who I respect and a woman I’m terrified to lose.”