52. Liam
LIAM
Letting her walk back to him feels like ripping out a piece of myself. But Hellion keeps me grounded. I don’t need to go in hot. I just need to trust her.
“So what was she talking about?” I ask Arturo.
“A hacienda,” he says. “Two access roads wouldn’t be unusual. The main entrance would have the motorized gate. The second one would sit farther back. Older estates often kept a rear road leading to agricultural land.”
“And the recording studio?”
“I think I know where that billboard is. I’ll ask around about recording studios nearby.”
I tap my finger against the door panel. “Let’s not stack the odds. We split and cover both Helena and Olivia.”
Arturo signals the driver, and the car stops at a fork in the road.
“We’ll take the studio and find Olivia,” Max says.
Arturo makes a call. I catch enough to guess he’s describing the insurance billboard. He listens, nods, then gestures for Max and one of his men to step out. “Wait here. Another vehicle’s on the way.”
Max leans in through the open door and claps my shoulder. “You get Helen.”
“I will.”
She comes back to me in one piece. That’s the only outcome.
Arturo taps the driver forward. We pass the pharmacy Helena mentioned. A few minutes later, the hacienda rises in the distance—still set back, but close enough now to make out the gate.
“That’s the one,” I say. “The mechanical gate. Let’s take the service road.”
Arturo agrees and the driver veers off onto the narrower track.
About twenty feet ahead, we see the double plank gate set between stucco pillars.
“That’s the other gate,” I say.
“We stop here,” Arturo replies.
The engine cuts. He reaches into a case and hands me a Glock. “Your preference, if I remember correctly. I assumed you crossed the border clean.”
I take it, check the weight in my hand. I hope I won’t need it.
We move from there on foot, scanning for the break in the wall Helena described. She didn’t panic. She observed. That’s how we’re here.
“Damn that smells good,” Arturo says. “What are they cooking? Arrachera?”
I smell the steak too. “I’ll buy you a goddamn banquet when this is over, Arturo.”
He gives me an approving smirk, then leads us into the compound. He gestures toward the smaller buildings lining the courtyard. “We’ll clear those.”
The outbuildings are scattered, perfect places to tuck extra muscle. Helena said she was held in a room with a high ceiling. That means the main structure.
“You two take the perimeter,” I tell Arturo and his man. “Make sure nothing comes at my back. I’m going in.”
Upbeat trumpet and guitar music drifts through the main house the moment I step inside, lively but not loud. Somewhere ahead, plates clink against each other.
I move fast but quiet, keeping close to the wall. I pass an open doorway before I reach the next corner. A man steps out of it.
Guard.
His hand goes for his pistol, but I reach him before he clears leather.
My fist drives into his throat, cutting off whatever shout he was about to give.
His gun hand jerks up but I catch his wrist and slam it into the wall.
Air leaves him in a choking gasp. When he doubles over, I hook my arm around his neck and wrench him down until he goes slack.
I eject the magazine from his pistol, kick it under a cabinet, and keep moving.
Around the corner, the music leads me to another doorway. I cannot see inside yet, but Victor’s voice reaches me between the notes.
“Mmm…best steak ever,” he says around a mouthful, which makes me picture him slicing another piece of meat for the next bite. “Come on, babe. Try yours.”
Babe? The word scrapes across my nerves.
“Helen of Troy, should I feed you?”
My pulse spikes. But I can’t fuck this up just because I’m dying to make him choke on his own teeth.
I’m close now. I can see inside. Victor is sitting across from Helena at a small table set for an intimate dinner.
A long mirror runs behind the bar, catching the candlelight.
She’s wearing a shiny red dress. The neckline dips low enough that it is obvious Victor chose it himself.
A young server stands beside him, topping up his wine.
Victor notices something in the mirror. His head snaps up.
Our eyes meet.
Fuck!
He moves in a flash, quicker than I expect. He yanks Helena out of the chair and drags her tight against him. The server screams as wine spills.
“I must admit, this was fast even by your standard,” Victor huffs, pressing his steak knife against her throat. “But you’re still too late.”
“Drop it!” I point the Glock at him.
The blade trembles against her skin. He doesn’t want her dead, but a shaking hand can make mistakes.
The server freezes with her hands raised, saying something rapid in Spanish. She stands directly between us, blocking my line of fire.
“Get out of there!” I shout, and she scampers.
Victor is already backing toward another door, keeping Helena tight in front of him as a shield. “This isn’t the Velvet Game, buddy!” He pulls her through the doorway and out of sight.
“Helena!” I go after them. I don’t own her, but I will obliterate any man who thinks he can wedge himself between us.
“Liam! There are more men outside!” Her voice carries back, already thinning with distance.
The corridor runs straight this time—no cover, no turns to hide behind. Damn right this isn’t the Velvet Game. Victor reaches the end first. Brick wall. No exit.
I bring my weapon up, but the angle gives me nothing clean.
“You won’t fire,” Victor says, still using her as cover. “You’re too careful for that.”
I haven’t forgotten. I put a bullet in my father to keep him from reaching Max. The shot drifted. He survived by an inch. I was given a second chance.
Now—there isn’t one.
Helena’s eyes lift to mine, then down.
She does that again.
There’s no panic in her gaze. Just awareness.
I follow the line of it. Those open toes. If Victor thinks he’s on a Mexican holiday, he doesn’t know my Hellion.
“Okay! Okay!” I say, dropping the gun.
“Kick it away!” he says.
I do.
Victor adjusts his footing. The knife edge is now farther from her. He doesn’t want her hurt. I can see that much.
“Turn around,” he says, gesturing at me with the knife.
He shifts his weight to another foot. Helena mirrors the shift. Small, almost nothing, but her eyes hold mine.
I see it. A single blink from me confirms it.
“I love you, Liam,” she says.
Victor coos. “Ah, so cute—”
She lifts her knee, then stomps. The squared corner of her heel drives down onto his bare toes.
He screams in agony. “Bitch!”
She twists free and I surge forward. I drive my shoulder into his chest. The knife skitters away across tile. Victor swings. No finesse, just brute force. We slam into a table and crash to the floor. For a moment it’s just our bare hands and breath and muscle.
He claws for my eyes. God, he fights dirty when he panics. But panic makes men sloppy—and sloppy when he’s facing me is fine, not when a knife is at her throat. I catch his wrist, ram my knee into his ribs, and shove him clear of either the knife or my fallen Glock.
I twist his arm behind his back and drive him face-first into the floor.
“Did you like the dress?” he says through a crushed laugh. “Red suits her, don’t you think?”
The courtyard echoes with another shot outside. Victor’s expression changes.
“Waiting for backup?” I mock.
Arturo appears behind me. “All clear,” he says.
The fight leaves Victor in an instant.
I keep him pinned until Arturo snaps restraints around his wrists. Only then do I step back.
Helena moves into my space.
“You okay?” I pull her in, and she nods against my chest.
My phone vibrates against my hip. I glance at the screen and answer immediately.
“We’ve got Olivia,” Max says, adrenaline still riding his voice. “She’s safe.”
“And you?”
“I’ll have a scar to brag about.”
“Max!”
“I’ll be fine, just a graze.”
The pressure inside my chest finally releases. I hang up.
Helena tugs at my shirt. “Olivia?” Her voice shakes now.
“She’s fine. Max got her.”
She folds into me. My hand slides up her back, holding her there.
Victor laughs from the floor. “Liam Hunt. I admired you once. Fast learner, and all that drive. A man who could dismantle mazes faster than his testosterone,” he mutters. “But you’re a fraud. You just wanted what I had.”
I look down at him. “I never wanted what you had.”
He grins through blood.
“She was never yours, Victor. You treat people like assets. I don’t collect. She chose me,” I say. “And I will goddamn defend what stands beside me.”
Helena pulls me back from Victor like she’s done with him. Arturo gives me a nod that tells me he has the situation under control.
We step away together, and I notice her limping.
I stop. “You’re hurt?”
She scoffs. “My shoe. The heel is coming loose.”
I look down and see it. “One hell of a stomp, Hellion.”
By the end of the corridor, she slips the shoes off and leans against the stucco wall.
My hand settles at her waist. “I meant what I said,” I tell her. “I defend what’s under my protection.” Then I move my hand over her belly.
She goes still. “Liam?”
“I saw the test. I’ve known.”
She searches my face, holding herself tight. “Say it.”
“I want you,” I say. “And I want our child. There’s no contingency plan here. No backup exit.”
Her lips part and her eyes gloss. “You’re not…angry?”
“Angry?” I let out a quiet breath. “Helena, I flew across the country tonight because I thought I might lose you. And the idea that you’re carrying a piece of us?” My hand spreads over her stomach. “That’s not something I run from.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt. And this time when she kisses me, we exchange breaths like we’ve crawled out of something that tried to bury us.
Behind us, Victor shouts, “I will expose you, Hunt. You and the Game, and everything else behind your mask.”
Helena holds my hand more firmly. “Liam, ignore him.”
“Give me just this one minute,” I tell her.
She lets me go and stays where she is.
Arturo keeps a firm grip on Victor’s shoulder. He’s still on the floor, but Victor lifts his chin as if this isn’t over.
I drop beside him. “Go ahead,” I say quietly. “I don’t need my mask anymore. And besides, when you go to prison, I’ll make sure someone is always watching. And before you think about speaking my name, understand this. You will lose your tongue before you even open your mouth.”
I stand tall and walk back to Helena.
Police sirens grow in the distance.
“Now I’m done.” I smile at her.
She steps closer and rests her hand against my chest, right over my heartbeat. “You trusted me. You let me go back here.”
“It felt like I was tearing myself in half,” I admit. “But I trusted you.”
I slide my hand gently over hers where it rests on her stomach. She leans into me, her body finally allowing the tremor it held back.
She wipes her eyes, breath still uneven, and somehow that fierce spark of hers is already back. “I think that was the hottest hostage rescue I’ve ever attended,” she says dreamily. “You don’t know how horny I am right now.”
Heaven help me. “I just wrestled a lunatic to the ground and you’re picking another fight?”
“Uh-huh. It’s been worse because I’ve been denying it while you were gone.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Yours.”
Isn’t there a rule about arguing with pregnant women?
“And I can’t wait to friggin’ get out of this dress!” She wriggles, tugging at the neckline.
I hate the dress. But hell—she still looks beautiful.
I cup her chin. The adrenaline is burning through her now in a completely different direction. “Okay. Tell me where you want me to fuck you?”
“Everywhere.”
I pull her in and crush my mouth to hers, my tongue pushing deep. Then breathless, I say, “I swear to God, I love you, Helena Mercer.”
“And I love you, Liam Hunt.”