My whole body felt heavy, and I heard my stomach growl. I hadn’t eaten since Liam’s eggs earlier in the morning. We had talked for most of the day, and I had asked him pretty much every question I could imagine. My biggest issue was why we weren’t going to the police. He kept saying that Colm had his fingers in everything, and that even going to the cops wouldn’t keep us alive. I had a hard time believing him; if that were true, why did they care if I called the cops in the first place? It was more complicated than that, he had said, and I sighed.
It just made no sense. I couldn’t help but ask, over and over in my mind, why me? Why did I have to see what I saw? And why were they dumping dead bodies in a public place?
But Liam didn’t have the answers to those questions. He could only frown and shrug his shoulders, as if that were answer enough. Maybe he was used to violent men trying to murder people, but that wasn’t something I could easily adjust to. I may have had my own darkness in my past, but it didn’t nearly touch what Liam lived with on a daily basis.
I had to admit that he impressed me. Despite everything, he was still willing to risk his life to save mine. He could have easily killed me, or at least let me be killed, and moved on with his life. But he tore everything up, put himself in the most danger possible, just to keep me alive. I hated him and blamed him, but I knew that none of it was really his fault. I just didn’t know what else to do. I felt trapped, caught in an impossible situation, and completely powerless. He was the only one who could fix our situation, and I was stuck lying on an old, uncomfortable couch watching shows I hated all day long.
When we spoke, there was a glimmer of something deeper down inside of him that I didn’t think he normally showed. It was something like honesty, or sincerity, and that was what kept drawing me to him, above everything else. It definitely helped that he was gorgeous and ripped and dangerous, but that was only a small part of him.
It felt like hours before I heard someone messing with the front door.
I had a moment of deep panic, and I jumped up off the couch, skin turning white with fear. I looked around like a crazy person, searching for some kind of weapon. What if it wasn’t Liam? He hadn’t told me what to do in case someone else showed up. I grabbed the lamp from the end table, ripping the cord from the wall, as the bolt unlocked and the door swung open. I held the lamp above my head, ready to smash it on whoever walked through.
“Whoa there,” Liam said, holding up two bags of groceries like a shield.
“Fuck, Liam.”
My heart was pounding.
“It’s okay. It’s me.”
I stared at him and suddenly felt like an idiot. I lowered the lamp, turning red with embarrassment. He peeked out from behind the bags and grinned at me, this huge cocky grin.
“Calm down, warrior princess.”
“You didn’t tell me what to do if someone else showed up,” I said lamely.
He nodded, expression turning serious. “Beating them with a lamp is probably a good start.” He paused and grinned. “I’ll be more careful next time. I’ll knock three times before coming in.”
I nodded. He took a few steps into the room, moving close to me and frowning. I had the stupid urge to reach out and touch his stubbled face, to feel his skin and to kiss along his chin. Instead, I looked away, ashamed of my overreaction and of the heat that built in my core.
“You can put the lamp back. It’s really okay. You’re safe here.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, putting it on the end table.
Liam shut the door and moved into the kitchen with his two big grocery bags as I plugged the lamp back into the socket. I walked over to the front door, slid the bolt back into place, and followed him into the kitchen. He was busy unpacking the bags, putting fresh vegetables and other food into the refrigerator and the pantry.
“This should be enough for a few days,” he said.
“Thanks.”
I sat down at the kitchen table, feeling déjà vu, and folded my legs underneath my body. I was on edge, for obvious reasons, and I wished I could fold myself into my own body and hide away from the world. When he was done putting away the groceries, he looked at me and smiled.
“So, what do you want for dinner? I make a mean mushroom risotto.”
“I’m not hungry,” I lied.
I don’t know why I felt so defiant, why I wanted to refuse his offer. For some reason, I felt like if I let him keep cooking for me, I’d give him some sort of control or power over me that I wasn’t ready to give up.
As if he didn’t already have everything.
He looked concerned. “Come on, you’re definitely hungry. I’m starving.”