Saturday afternoon, dark clouds billow on the horizon as Liam and I play gin rummy with a battered deck of cards we found in a closet. I’m about to win for the first time when his phone buzzes. Removing it from his pocket, he frowns at the number, then answers.

“Yes?”

As the person on the other end speaks, Liam rises and walks onto the deck. I absorb the impact of his tall form highlighted against a backdrop of the approaching storm, listening to his half of the conversation.

“When?”

“Where?”

“You’re sure?”

“All right. Thank you.”

He hangs up, types something on his phone, then turns. The rising darkness at his back reflects in his eyes. Chills erupt on my arms. The glow of yesterday’s lovemaking dims as grim reality surfaces.

“They’re here, aren’t they?” I ask.

Liam nods and walks back inside. He offers me a hand, and I allow him to draw me from my chair into his arms.

Holding me tightly, his warm breath skates along my earlobe and jaw. “That was my contact at the airport. Six men and two women arrived an hour ago. One of the women was Alexis. The other was described as short, thin, and dark-haired. She was limping, and her face was badly bruised.”

Everyone breaks.

I bury my face in his shoulder. “Oh God, what are we going to do?”

Liam draws back, lifting my chin with his fingers. “What do you want to do?”

I shake my head helplessly. “There’s no way they’ll let us get to the bank. Six men?”

He knows what I’m asking. “Maddoc and Christopher are here.” I have no time to process that tidbit before he continues, “The other four are soldiers—thugs. And you’re right—they won’t let us reach the bank alive.”

I can’t repress a shudder of pure terror. I feel it in my lungs, my gut, my tingling legs. The thought of facing Chris again…

Trembling, I look at Liam. “Should we go? Run? Let them have the money and leave Elizabeth to die? You know as well as I do that whatever piece of information is keeping her alive, they’ll get it. And then she’ll have outlived her usefulness.”

He strokes my jaw. “I think you just answered your own question, love.”

I don’t want him to be right, but he is. However much Elizabeth is responsible for all that’s happened to me, I can’t simply walk away. I can’t let her die if there’s a way to save her. It’s not love that motivates me, or obligation as in the case of Alexis, but something much more simple.

I’m the daughter of Margaret and Ben Sumner. Good, loving people who taught me the difference between right and wrong. The importance of standing up to bullies, of courage, and perseverance, and hard work.

But most of all, they taught me that the smallest decisions in life are often the most significant ones. That it’s not our thoughts that define us, but the choices we make. How we live each day until the last day.

Taking Liam’s face in my hands, I look him in the eye. And I make the choice to live as I would die. Honestly.

“I love you, Liam Rourke. I’ve never stopped. Whatever happens, I want you to know that.”

He covers my hands with his. “I do know. My love for you and yours for me is the only thing that makes sense in this world. I also know that this isn’t the end. Our end is being old and gray, spinning tales for our grandchildren.”

I laugh. “Grandchildren, huh?”

His eyes twinkle. “And great-grandchildren.”

My smile slowly fades. “If you ask me to run with you right now, I will.”

“I won’t ask you, love.”

Surprised, I blurt, “Why not?”

“Because to open a new book, you must first close the old one.” His expression hardens, his hands falling. “Even if you ask me not to, if you never forgive me, I still have to close the book. I cannot allow him to live.”

Christopher.

The thought of him isn’t as visceral as it once was, but the wound still festers, its poison slow to reverse. And the echoes of its devastation will always remain. The nightmares. The flashbacks. And the worst memories of all—the last ones, before my would-be end. When I’d glimpsed the man beneath the monster.

She isn’t worth this.

But he’d done all of it anyway.

Maybe someday the miracle of forgiveness will occur. Perhaps when I’m old and gray and telling stories to my children’s children. If that day comes.

I gaze out over the deck to see the winds picking up, tossing slender Palms back and forth. Then I turn back to Liam. My magnificent, powerful, brave, strong, funny, cunning, charismatic love.

“I’ll still love you,” I tell him, “but I’m still going to ask. Don’t kill him.”

He’s silent for a long minute, then smiles slowly. The devil lives in his eyes. My devil.

“Very well, siren. Seems I’ve overestimated my ability to resist you. I won’t kill him. In fact, that would be too easy. I can think of at least ten different ways to end a man without taking his life.”

I grimace, but nod. “So, how are we going to get Elizabeth?”

His brows lift. “Don’t you mean, how am I going to get Elizabeth?”

My eyes narrow. “Are you seriously pulling the chauvinist card on me? I will break your fucking face.”

He laughs.

And laughs.

And then we plan.