If Liam isn’t exactly a patient teacher, he’s at least an extremely good one. He has rope in his bag—of course he does—but it’s not the usual brand. Not for pleasure. This rope isn’t a toy but a weapon.

By the second hour of my training, my fingertips are tender from the abrasive material. But I have four basic knots down. Overhand. Square. Lark’s Head. Half-Hitch.

I recognize each of them, but have a new appreciation for how easy he’s always made them look. Liam ties rope like it’s his instrument and he a virtuoso. I fumble like an infant on piano; more often than not, when I actually succeed, it feels like it’s by mistake.

“That’s enough for today,” he says finally, wincing as he shifts his arms. “You need practice. A lot more practice.”

I grimace in sympathy at the red skin beneath the rope on his wrists. “Can you get yourself out of them, or do I have to untie everything?” I’m hoping he has a magician’s trick up his sleeve, because my fingers freaking hurt.

He snorts. “With what, my teeth?”

I sigh, dropping onto my seat for a break. We’re facing each other, his knees spread. They now rest flush against my outer thighs, my pants and his slacks doing little to block the heat of his body. I stood between his legs for at least thirty minutes as I tested out my new skills on his wrists and forearms. Until this moment, though, I hadn’t considered how close we’d been. Or what he might have been thinking as I bound him.

“Any day, Eden.”

Tired and sore from using unexpected muscles and concentrating so hard for so long, I don’t reply. I keep staring at his bound arms, settled above his groin. It’s not my fantasy, but it’s close enough. Need slowly unfurls inside me. It’s different—I’m different—but it’s also the same. There’s only one man who can make me wet just by breathing, tied up or not.

“What if I don’t want to free you?”

He inhales sharply, muscles bunching. “Don’t tease unless you plan to follow through.”

Follow through.

Like I’ve been doused with cold water, I come to my senses. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe…” I drop my head into my hands. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “The way you looked at me, even if it was just for a moment… It means more to me than you can possibly know.”

I nod helplessly; there’s no use denying it.

The familiar sound of rope sliding brings my head up. My eyes widen as Liam unravels the last knot from his wrist.

I gawk. “What the hell?”

He smiles slightly, eyes warm and crinkled at the edges. “Now you’ll always know that when the knots are yours, I’m choosing to be bound.”

I have no idea how to respond, so I don’t.

Liam coils the rope and walks across the cabin to pack it away in his duffel. He then rummages behind the bar and returns with a sandwich and a cold bottle of sparkling water. He hands them both to me.

“Eat, then sleep.”

I smirk tiredly. “Sounds familiar.” But I take the offering and thank him when he brings me a blanket and pillow.

The window shades are now all pulled, the sky black with night. Our destination, Rarotonga on Cook Islands, is six hours ahead of Los Mochis. We’re chasing the future. Strangely apropos.

Despite it being only 5 p.m. in Los Mochis, I’m tired. So freaking tired. My eyelids are dragging south, my consciousness unraveling. Maybe it’s the hours of working knots, or the champagne nap, or the last two months of brutal training finally catching up.

Maybe it’s all catching up.

I finish my sandwich—which is surprisingly good for airplane food—and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I come out, the cabin is mostly dark, only a reading light on over Liam’s head.

I drag my feet to my seat and push the little button until it’s fully reclined. Crawling on top takes the last of my strength. I’m out before my head hits the pillow.

* * *

“Bullshit.”

At first, Liam’s voice slides at the edges of my dreams. As he continues speaking, however, I shift swiftly from sleep to alertness. His voice is low and tense, his words chilling.

“This isn’t a bloody joke. Why would I fucking joke about this? She has to be stopped. If you won’t do it, I will.” A ten-second pause. “This is a courtesy call, nothing more or less. I’m coming for Christopher and Alexis. If you stand with them, then I’m coming for you, too.”

There’s a long silence. I think he’s hung up, but then he explodes, “What! You motherfucking—” There’s another pause, then a violent thud as the phone is thrown to the floor.

I open my eyes and sit up. It takes me a few seconds to find Liam in the darkness. He’s standing at the back of the plane, arms braced above him on the wall opposite the bathroom.

“Who was that?” I ask, even though I have a good idea.

“Maddoc. He said he had no knowledge of your capture and captivity. Says he didn’t order it. He also doesn’t believe it happened.”

The last tendrils of sleep clear from my mind. “How did you even—never mind, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care how or why you called him. Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed.” His tone is soft, almost gentle.

Foreboding tickles my spine. I brace myself. “What is it, Liam?”

“He has Elizabeth.”

No. No. No.

I lurch to my feet, adrenaline flooding my limbs. “Oh my God. If she tells them…” I can’t even finish, the prospect too horrible.

Liam nods. “Then we’re in a race to the money.”

I square my shoulders with confidence I don’t feel. “She won’t break. She won’t.”

His eyes lift, find mine. “Everyone breaks.”

“You didn’t. You never told your father where your mother was.”

He laughs, low and mirthless. “How do you think he eventually found her? Luck? Oh no, little siren, before I fled Ireland, I broke. It took an axe over my wrists. I saved my hands instead of my mother.”

The truth stuns me, but also propels me across the cabin. I curl my fingers around his shoulder. He shudders but I don’t let go.

“You still kept her safe all those years. Even if he knew where she was, you kept her safe.”

His arms lower, dislodging my touch as he steps back from the wall. Where we stand, there’s little light. I can’t read his expression.

“You didn’t break,” he whispers.

My heart flutters in my throat. “No, I didn’t. But like you said, I would have.”

“You would have confessed where the money is, maybe, but not the other.”

Him. Would I have given him up to Chris? Confessed that he found witnesses to incriminate Alexis and Chris, gave the USB stick to the FBI? That he dealt with the diamonds and set up the bank account? Would I have risked putting him at the top of the Donnelly hit-list to save myself pain?

His knuckles graze my jaw. “You don’t have to speak. I know. I feel it,” he lifts his other hand to his chest, “here.”

I breathe in. I breathe out. Yes. Yes, I would have died for him. And God help me, I still would.

“Will this ever be over?” I ask, and my voice is small and lost.

Liam steps forward, wrapping me in his arms. I melt against him, giving myself fully to the strength and safety he offers.

“Yes.”

I believe him.

One way or another, this is ending.