Ruined With You Page 19

  “Christ, Liam, you know—”

  “I don’t know anything except that’s the way it is. So don’t argue with me. This isn’t Deliverance, Dallas. You don’t have the last word.”

  “Fuck.” Dallas ran his fingers through his hair. “Fine. You win.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Liam admitted. “You want to take that up? I’ll wait for Xena, like you said.”

  “Fine. Fine.”

  Liam laughed. “You’re a terrible loser.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Exhibit A, Your Honor.”

  “I was going to run something by you, but now I’ll just leave you out in the cold. Don’t blame me if you lose millions on the deal.” Dallas let the words hang, his mouth clearly fighting a grin.

  With anyone else—except Damien Stark—Liam would consider those words hyperbole. But Dallas has the Midas touch, and while Liam was doing just fine financially, if he ever wanted to start his own family—

  He froze, suddenly aware of the direction of his thoughts.

  “Liam? You still with me?”

  “Sorry. Just remembered something. About work.” He shook himself. “What did you want to run by me?”

  “A real estate deal. What time are you two hitting the road tomorrow?”

  “Between ten and eleven, most likely.”

  “Perfect. We can have breakfast at eight. I’ve got a meeting here at nine. This developer I’ve been talking to—Norman Erickson—is looking for investors in a couple of refurbishment projects up and down the eastern seaboard.”

  “You’ve checked him out?”

  “Just started that ball rolling. It’s still early days, but the man’s had his finger in real estate for years and has a large and varied portfolio. I’ve got more homework, but so far he passes the sniff test.”

  “Tomorrow’s the handshake test.”

  “You got it. He’s catching a plane at MacArthur around noon and offered to come by the house on his way so we could talk. Since you’re here and it might be a good opportunity, I thought you should join us.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be your wing man.”

  “You’ve certainly done that before. Speaking of, tell me what’s up with you and Xena.”

  To anyone else, the massive shift in topic might have seemed strange. But Liam and Dallas knew each other so well, it was nothing more than a conversational river taking a bend around a rocky protrusion.

  “I’m protecting her,” Liam said. “I already told you the whole story.”

  “The SSA story. I want to know what’s really going on. And don’t be an ass and tell me it’s nothing. Tell me what she means to you.”

  Everything. “Dallas, listen, you know I can’t—”

  “Can’t?” Dallas shook his head. “I know you won’t. And I know that it fucked you up pretty bad after Dion was killed.” He dragged his fingers through his thick hair. “I’ve spent years not talking about it—hell, not even thinking about it—because you asked me to never bring it up. But that was before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before I saw the way you look at that woman.”

  An invisible fist tightened around Liam’s heart. “Dallas, I mean it. We’re not going there.”

  “Goddammit, Liam. You’re my best friend. My oldest friend, not counting my wife. And I’m here to tell you that you have got to move on.”

  His body was tense, fighting the urge to lash out. “Do you really think that’s possible?”

  “Look at who you’re talking to, for Christ’s sakes. Of course I do. You know what I’ve been through. You know everything I risked. And you also know that part of the reason I risked it was because of you.”

  Liam stumbled back, shocked by his friend’s words. “Because of me? How the hell was I involved?”

  “Don’t you remember that day on the Island?”

  That would be Barclay Island, a retreat that had been in the Sykes family for generations. And Liam knew which time Dallas was referring to. A trip to the island to celebrate Dallas’s great-grandfather’s hundredth birthday. And one night, Liam had been pretty damn blunt in his attempt to get Dallas to see reason with regard to Jane. “I remember it all,” he said. “But that’s not even close to the same.”

  “Don’t you think?”

  “I’m a risk to her safety, and we both know it. What I do? It can get her killed.”

  “You think Jane doesn’t know that about me?”

  “You’re out of the game,” Liam reminded his friend.

  “We both know that’s not entirely true. And so does Jane.”

  “And you’re willing to accept the risk. I respect that. I don’t know that I am.”

  Dallas looked into Liam’s eyes, his more serious than Liam could remember since after the kidnapping. “If you don’t remember exactly what you said to me that day, I do. Shall I remind you?”

  “I remember,” Liam said. “I told you that Jane was a hell of a woman, and that if it was me who was in love with her, there wasn’t a power on earth that could make me stay away.”

  He’d meant the words, too. Dallas and Jane belonged together, and nothing, not even their familial relationship, should’ve kept them apart, no matter what stones and arrows they might have to endure.

  That’s what he’d told himself, but it was more than that. Because there was danger lurking in their lives, too. Dallas was doing then exactly what Liam did now. Helping people by sticking his nose in matters that could get him killed. Or could risk the wrath of some very nasty individuals.

  “Are you telling me that Xena isn’t a hell of a woman?” Dallas pressed. “I think she is.”

  The words washed over him; he was too lost in his head. Because unlike everything tangible that Dallas and Jane had faced because they were adopted siblings—the legal barriers, the social shaming, the family’s reaction—all Liam was fighting against was love and fear.

  He’d always thought that he was a brave man. But maybe he was pushing back on a relationship because deep in his heart, he was truly a coward.

  And he damn sure didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Jane said as Liam, Xena, and Dallas entered the room. “Someone other than my husband to talk to.” She grinned, her slightly angled eyebrows rising with her smile as she held her hand out to Xena. “I’m Jane, which you probably already figured out. And this,” she added, laying a hand on her belly—prominent even under the covers—“is Mystery.”

  “Tell me that name’s not going to stick,” Liam said.

  “It started as a joke,” Dallas admitted. “Now it’s growing on us.”

  “I think it’s great,” Xena said. “Then again, I chose my own name, and look what I picked out. So take my advice with a grain of salt.”

  “I like her,” Jane said, with a smile aimed at him, followed by a wink to Xena. “Seriously, it’s great to meet you. Sorry I’m not the world’s most energetic hostess. Believe me when I say I want to be. And makeup and a hairbrush would have probably gone a long way, too.”

  “You’re beautiful as always,” Liam said, kissing her cheek. He meant what he said, too. Her dark brown hair hung in loose waves around her face, and her skin seemed to reflect the light.

  “She glows,” Dallas said, as if tracking Liam’s thoughts. And sounding as proud as if he were the sunlight shooting out of her. In some ways, Liam supposed he was.

  “I think you look great,” Xena said. “And I love this room.”

  “Thanks. It was our parents, and then Dallas’s, and now ours. Not much has changed. The wood paneling under the chair rail has been here since forever, but we did switch out the wallpaper above the rail. I have no idea what my mother was thinking,” she added, shaking her head.

  “Well, it’s great now,” Xena said, shifting her purse. It had her Ruger in it—easy enough to get to New York since they hadn’t flown commercial—and he was glad she’d taken him seriously when he said she should keep it with her. Even in t
he house, it was good to maintain the habit.

  “I’m so glad to be here,” she continued. “Liam’s told me so much about you—and I saw The Price of Ransom. I loved it.”

  Liam looked at her, surprised. He hadn’t mentioned that Jane had written the book or the screenplay. She met his gaze and lifted a shoulder. “What? You didn’t think I’d learn everything I could about your friends?”

  Jane caught his eye, then gave one quick nod of approval. Not that Liam was surprised. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a legitimate negative word that his friends could say about Xena. God knew he couldn’t come up with one.

  He was, in a word, besotted. An old-fashioned word, but it summed up his situation nicely. But why wouldn’t he be? Xena Morgan was a hell of a woman, after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “I’m absolutely in love with Jane,” I tell Liam as we get into the queen-size bed that has replaced the bunk bed in what was once his room. Liam told me earlier that this whole wing is for guests now, and while I think that’s a great and practical use of the space, I can’t deny that I’m sad not to have seen Liam’s real childhood home.

  “She’s amazing,” Liam tells me. “And the three of us—we latched onto each other like superglue.”

  “That’s why what happened to them hurt you so badly, too.” Not that my statement is profound. He already knows that.

  I wouldn’t trade the hours laughing and chatting in Dallas and Jane’s bedroom for anything, but the truth is that it’s been a ridiculously long day, and I’m mentally and physically exhausted. I’m wearing a tank top and sleep shorts, which made Liam laugh since I’ve worn nothing in bed since that first night we were together. But this is someone else’s house and it just seemed polite to wear clothes.

  Now me and my excess layer of material are curled up against him, my head tucked under his arm. In deference to what he says are my strange rules of propriety he’s wearing boxer shorts. But his chest is bare, and I idly trace my finger over the ridges of his abs.

  “Jane knows that I love you,” I whisper, not sure what prompted me to speak.

  “Does she?” I can’t read his tone, so I just nod.

  “I didn’t tell her. After you guys left for that video call, we were talking, and she just … knew.”

  I stretch, then tell him about my time with Jane. We’d been talking about both the guys and about how Jane had learned about Deliverance, which Dallas had originally kept secret from her. “I guess that was sort of a pattern,” she’d said. “Keeping things hidden. We didn’t admit we loved each other for the longest time.”

  And then she’d looked at me and added, “I think he’ll tell you soon. But you’ll have the satisfaction of always knowing you said it first.”

  “How did you know I said it?” I’d asked her. “Did he tell you?”

  She’d shrugged, one hand idly rubbing her belly. “I guess you told me. It’s all over your face. You don’t try to hide it at all. Which makes me think he must know, too, or you’d be trying to hide it from him.”

  “He knows,” I’d told her. “But he hasn’t said it back. Not out loud, anyway.”

  Jane had grinned. “Yeah, well, there’s saying it and then there’s saying it. Sounds to me like he’s said it.”

  “Maybe,” I’d admitted. “But I don’t think love is the problem.”

  She’d nodded slowly, and even in such a short time I’d come to know her well enough that in that moment I’d thought I understood what was going on in her head. She knew about Dion and Franklin, but she didn’t know if I did. And I was ninety percent sure I was right when she said, “Everybody has their issues. Things in their past that color their present. Just give him time.”

  As far as I’m concerned, Jane’s suggestion of time was a good one. After all, I’m certainly not walking away from him—or letting him push me away. But I also don’t have a magical toolkit with which to tweak the way he thinks. And even if I did, would I really use it? I love him the way he is, stupid, obstinate relationship phobias and all.

  Which means time is the only ally I have. That and his friends.

  I smile, realizing suddenly that as much as I love Ella and Rye, I’d been very alone. Now, I think about Jane, who seems to genuinely care, and all of the women from girls’ night. I don’t think it’s an illusion that they like and care about me, and I know I care about them, and I feel tears prick my eyes at the thought that I could lose this small posse that has been growing around me if I lose Liam.

  Except I won’t lose him. I can’t lose him.

  I’d survive if I lost him, sure. Because survival seems to be one of my superpowers. I’ve been surviving for years.

  But I’ve changed since that concert in LA. And surviving isn’t enough for me anymore.

  “Hey,” Liam says gently. “Are you still with me?”

  “Sorry.” I’d been relaying my conversation with Jane to him when my mind had gone elsewhere. “I started to space out. Anyway, before I came down, I told her how strange it was that she’d seen it on my face. That I love you,” I add, looking him straight in the eye because I want him to feel how real it is, and how it’s not going to fade even if he shoves me aside. His eyes are steady, never wavering, but they are also entirely unreadable.

  “Strange?”

  “Yeah. Just weird that she could read me so well. I’ve spent years hiding my emotions. Any hint of anger or hatred or anything could have gotten me killed. But Jane and Helen both read me like a book.”

  His mouth turns down as he makes a hmm noise.

  “Jane said it was because I wasn’t safe before. But I am now. With you, I mean. In your world. So thank you,” I add, propping myself up to kiss him gently. “It’s nice to know I’m not a mannequin anymore. And it’s nice that I can say that I love you and not be afraid.” Of anything except you not loving me back, I add silently.

  He says nothing, but reaches for me and rolls me on top of him before pulling my face down for a kiss. It’s long and slow and full of the promise of things to come, and I lose myself in his touch, my body warm and ready as his hands slide down my back to cup my ass and push me closer to him.

  “Now,” I whisper, then immediately yelp when the sharp trill of his cell phone makes me jump.

  “Fuck. That’s Ryan.”

  I roll over as he grapples for his phone, then puts it on the bed between us. “What have you got for me?” Liam asks, the moment he pushes the button for the speaker.

  “I’ve got Mario and Quince conferenced in,” Ryan says, sounding a bit like he’s down a well. “Still nothing at Weil’s apartment, and none of our sources have tagged him in the last few days. He’s not using his credit cards and hasn’t pulled money from an ATM. He’s in the wind. And we can’t confirm that he ever even heard from Rye that you and Xena are in the city.”

  I exhale, frustrated. The whole idea is to trap Weil when he comes after me at the apartment. Or, better yet, when he’s holed up at his place.

  “We’ll work with it,” Liam says, though I can tell he’s frustrated as well. “Worst case, Xena and I will just enjoy our time in the city.”

  “That’s worst case?” I quip, just to lighten the mood.

  “Yeah, well while you’re enjoying yourself, don’t forget to watch your backs,” Ryan says. “We’re operating on no information here, and that’s not how I like to run things.”

  “Agree,” Liam says. “Anything on Noyce?”

  “A bit,” Quince says. “He’s bloody clever, I can tell you that much. Enrique Castille’s given me full access to Corbu,” he explains, “and he’s being very cooperative. Can’t blame him. He’s in custody while his underling has gone to the wind.”

  “Does he have any information about his location?”

  “No,” Quince says. “But apparently Noyce has been collecting aliases for years. Corbu says he doesn’t even know all of them, and I believe him.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  There’s a pause,
then Quince says, “I’m very good at what I do.”

  I meet Liam’s eyes, and he nods. I think about Quince, such a nice guy who’s so sweet to Eliza, and try to imagine him in an interrogation room. It’s not clicking for me, but I don’t doubt his word.

  “Have you learned any of his aliases?” Liam asks.

  “Several. Emile Neely. Eric Nehu. Edgar Norton.”

  “Nice that he’s predictable.”

  “Can’t argue with that, but according to Corbu, he has such a stockpile, he could just disappear.”

  “But then I’d be safe, right? If he disappears, it would be because he gave up on me and is just going to go live his life in Fiji or something.”

  “Maybe,” Ryan says. “But how would you know? He’s not going to send you a registered letter saying Hey, not trying to kill you anymore. Going into hiding, they’ll never find me, and you’ll never have to testify.”

  “Which means I spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”

  “I want this fucker,” Liam says. “I want him for what he did to all of those women, not just Xena. And I want Xena to not just feel safe, I want her to be safe.”

  “So do we all,” Ryan assures us. “And we’re working through all of his aliases, hoping one of them pops. Seagrave’s got the SOC on it, too, and Quince has pulled in MI6. I’ve got Ollie McKee working with the FBI, and we’ve reached out to other agencies and private entities, too. We’ll find him. It just might take some time.”

  I nod, though Ryan can’t see me. I want it over now, but at least the road to getting there is becoming clear.

  “Which name is real?” Liam asks. “Edward Noyce?”

  “We don’t know,” Mario says. “That’s the name Corbu met him as, and the name he checked out back when he let Noyce into the inner circle. According to him, Noyce made wise investments and managed to turn a decent inheritance into a fortune. But who knows if that story is true, either. I can confirm that Edward Noyce—alias or not—did earn money in the market, but that doesn’t prove that it’s his primary, original name. Corbu also confirmed that Noyce procured the building that Xena was kept in, and he set up the various shell companies that owned it. Considering that didn’t come out while he was in custody, we know the man has solid skills at becoming invisible.”