Page 83 of Arranged Devotion
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I was quiet,” he says, voice raspy. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” He catches my wrist and gently moves the rag away. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You have blood on you again.”
“That’s what happens when you’re around me.” He turns back to the windows, shoulders tensed and hunched.
I leave him and make coffee. When it’s done, I bring him a mug and make sure he drinks some. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair’s messy. He needs to shower, change, and get eight hours of sleep. I’m guessing he’ll do two of those things. I make him some toast and he eats it reluctantly.
“Now do you want to talk?”
“Not particularly.”
“Was it the job? Last night? I know you went out?—“
“It’s nothing. Let it go, Regan.”
I pull back, clutching my mug between two hands, and turn my back on him. Liam’s beautiful and free in ways I’ve never been, but there’s a shadow inside of him, like a twisted and feverish dream rotting around his heart. I don’t know why or what makes it come out, but sometimes it takes over him, and I can’t do anything about it.
“I saw my brother last night.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Fine. Alive. He said you saved him.”
“Tried to, but he didn’t want to be saved.”
“Still, thank you for doing that.”
Liam’s lips press together, like he’s not sure if he’s happy. “You wanted me to keep him safe.”
“Does that deal still stand? I’m worried about him.”
“He’ll be fine.”
There’s that word again,fine. I have to maintain my composure. “He’s doing something, Liam. I don’t know what, but he’s involved in this war thing that’s happening. With the Baranovs? Vera and Max and Kieren. I don’t know what they want or why this is happening, but Luke’s involved, isn’t he?”
Liam’s jaw ticks. “Everyone’s involved now.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s war, Regan. Your brother is who he is. What do you want me to do about it?”
“I don’t understand why you’re being such a dick.”
Liam surges to his feet. He’s six-foot-four, bristling with muscle and rage, the nightmare coming to the surface as he comes toward me. I back away, my coffee mug falling from my hands. It hits the floor and clatters away, spilling all over. He doesn’t even hesitate as he pins me back against the huge windows overlooking the city.
“Do you know how many times in my life I fucked up a simple pat down?”
“Liam, stop it.”
“Do you know?”
“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
