Istressed baked…then stressed cleaned the kitchen. The clock on the stove ticked by, and Liam still wasn’t there by ten-thirty. Storm laid in the corner on his back, scooted into the cabinets so that his lanky body was smooshed under the overhang. I debated scooping him up and going to read, but I didn’t think I could sit still.
When the garage door finally opened, I let out a sigh of relief. The tracker was on the back counter, tucked between the decorative canisters. It wasn’t hiding. I wanted to explain before I showed it to him. It was silly, but part of me was convinced that the damn disc of metal might harm Liam if he touched it. Like a cursed talisman. I refused to look at it.
Liam pushed through the door. I took a deep breath. The confession died on my lips. Something dangerous pulsed around him.
Don’t lose your freaking nerve!
Not now. Not when I had the story rehearsed. The solution was right there.
But something about seeing the mobster made me panic. It wasn’t rational. The response was probably trauma induced. I couldn’t speak. Words failed me. I opened my mouth and croaked.
Liam narrowed his eyes. The mask shifted on his face, and he reached to rub his jaw, right under the plastic.
Storm snorted, rolled over, and sat up with a floppy, jerking motion. The moment the pup realized Liam was here, he let out a happy yap and tripped over his too-long legs to reach Liam.
Squatting, Liam chuckled. “Some guard dog.”
“Hi,” I breathed.Come on, you can do it.“How was your night?”
“Grand,” Liam drawled. It sounded like it had been the opposite. “Yours?”
“Busy,” I hedged.
My husband hummed. “Had a little visit to your old job, did you?”
I swallowed hard. “I did.”
Rising, careful not to trip over the puppy that wove around his feet, Liam closed the distance between us.
“The lads said you seemed off. What happened?” He studied me, that piercing grey-blue gaze not missing a thing.
Storm wined.
“He needs to go potty,” I breathed.
“Uh-huh, and you need to quit avoiding the question.” Liam reached for me.
I didn’t mean to. If I hadn’t had a glass of wine and far too much espresso, I wouldn’t have flinched. But the motion of his bare hand coming toward my face made me.
Liam stopped.
His jaw tightened, and I swore I could hear his teeth grind.
“Liam, I—”
“Save it.” He curled his fingers into a fist. Stooping, he plucked the puppy into his arms and stalked past me.
I hurried to the dining room, where Liam shoved the French door open. He tossed the pup out. Storm landed on his feet, shook himself, and trotted over to his favorite bush to sniff the ground before squatting.
“Can we just talk?” I pleaded.
“No.”
That hard word cracked through the air.
What was I thinking? That he was going to be my knight in shining armor? That telling him would solve this problem? And yet if I didn’t, then I was keeping valuable information that my father wanted his whereabouts tracked a secret.
I couldn’t let anything happen to Liam. He didn’t deserve that.
