TWENTY-FIVE

A week? He’d been back in Boston seven days and nights and hadn’t bothered to call her? What was the matter with him? Didn’t he have any idea how much he was hurting her? No, of course not. How could he know? He was an idiot.

Any other woman would have thrown her hands up and moved on. She had tried, but, fortunately or unfortunately, she wasn’t any other woman. It was time for her to find some courage and confront him, and that wasn’t going to be easy. If he didn’t like what she had to say, would she be able to walk away? What if he rejected her? She thought about that possibility for a few minutes and then decided, yes, it would be devastating, but then at least she would know, and she could then figure out a way to put him out of her life.

Her mind was cluttered with worries while she showered and got ready for bed. Every time she thought about barreling down the hill in her car, she felt sick to her stomach. Time to lose herself in her laptop, she concluded. It was the only way she knew to disappear from the world. And then she remembered her laptop had been destroyed, and she was going to have to buy a new one. Thankfully, she had external backups of all her work.

She walked into the living room and came to a quick stop. Liam was still there. He was standing at the window, staring out into the night. He seemed to be deep in thought. His phone was in his hand, and every once in a while he glanced down at it.

“I thought you’d left.”

He didn’t look at her when he answered, “No.” He was staring at his phone again and shaking his head. “Know what I’m looking at?” He walked over to her and handed her his phone.

She looked at the photo and cringed. It was her car, or rather the remains of her car, at the bottom of that hill.

“You could have broken your neck.” He sounded angry, but his hands were gentle when he took her by the shoulders. “You should have bruises all over your body.”

“But I don’t,” she assured him. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t let go of her. His hands slid down her shoulders and rested on the buttons of her silk pajamas. Then he kissed the side of her neck. As his kisses slowly made their way down to her breasts, he unbuttoned her top.

When she let out a low gasp, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. They were ravenous for each other, and there was no slowing down once the passion between them was ignited.

“Am I hurting you?” he panted. “I’ll stop if I’m hurting you.”

“No, no. Don’t stop,” she demanded, and then she bit his earlobe, and he was lost.

They reached climax at the same time. She squeezed him tight and cried out. Liam groaned before collapsing on top of her. His head dropped to her shoulder as he took deep breaths, trying to recover.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He was breathing hard.

She was still reeling. “Yes,” she said with a sigh.

He finally found enough energy to move before he crushed her. He rolled to his back but kept her locked in his arms. He couldn’t seem to make himself let go of her.

“I’ve never lost control the way I do with you,” he confessed.

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

What’s that supposed to mean? she wondered. Liam got out of bed then, grabbed his clothes, and went into the bathroom.

“Here we go again,” she muttered. Would he say, “See you later,” or nothing at all? Oh no, not this time. There was no way she was going to let him walk out the door without acknowledging a few things first.

He came out of the bathroom, all buttoned up and tucked in, ready to leave. He seemed preoccupied. She suddenly became furious. All he had to do was leave a little money on her dresser to make her feel like a call girl. She grabbed her robe, put it on, and chased him into the living room. “Please don’t leave just yet. I want to ask you a question.”

She wasn’t given time to ask it. Stamos was knocking on the door and calling Allison’s name. She tightened her robe and opened the door a crack.

The doorman didn’t ease into his news. “Those maniacs are downstairs again. They’re very upset.”

“Enough already. Wait ten minutes and then send them up, please.”

Muttering to herself, she rushed into the bedroom to get dressed. “I’m through being patient. They aren’t going to go away without a fight, and by God, I’m going to give them one.” She called to Liam in the living room, “You should probably leave. Otherwise, you’ll have to arrest me when I start punching them.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He would turn stubborn on her. “A few minutes ago you couldn’t wait to get out of here. . . .”

“No, that’s not true,” he argued.

“Okay. Why do you want to stay?”

He looked sheepish. “I’m curious.”

She slipped into her jeans and was buttoning her blouse when she returned to the living room. Liam put his hands on hers. “I’ll do that.”

“I’ve got it.

He smiled. “No, you don’t.”

She looked down and only then realized the buttons weren’t lined up. Feeling foolish, she stood there and let Liam fix them. When he was finished, she tried to step back.

He followed, tilted her chin up, and kissed her. “Take a deep breath,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“You’re hyperventilating.”

“I’m angry.”

The relatives from hell were banging on her door. She did as Liam suggested, but a deep breath didn’t help at all. She was still tense and livid.

Liam beat her to the door and opened it. Russell Trent came barreling in first. The smell of alcohol swirled around him like a rancid cloud. His wife, Jane, followed. Her shoulders were hunched and her deep-set eyes studied Liam suspiciously before turning to Allison.

“We didn’t know you had company,” Jane said.

“This is my friend,” Allison said. Not wasting any time, she added, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Jane tried to soften her expression, but the smile that curled her lips didn’t reach her eyes. “We just wanted to see how you’re doing. You know we worry about you.”

Allison thought she was trying to act timid, which was laughable.

“May we sit down?” Jane asked.

Russell was already sprawled on her sofa, so the question didn’t merit an answer.

“Why are you here?” Allison demanded. “I’ve already told you you’re getting nothing more from me.”

Jane glanced at Liam, who was standing by the door and watching her like a hawk. She hesitated before answering Allison, as though she was carefully measuring her words before speaking. “We received a summons of a sort just a few days ago, and we were shocked. Really shocked. It all happened so long ago.”

“What happened so long ago?”

“Your dear parents died.” Jane shook her head and pulled a tissue from her purse, trying her best to act sincere. “We still mourn them.”

Allison thought her performance was nauseating. “No, you don’t mourn them. My father didn’t like either one of you, and for good reason.”

Uncle Russell pushed himself upright. “No, no, that’s not true. They loved us.”

Allison wasn’t going to argue. “You still haven’t explained why you’re here.”

“We received a summons that says they want an account of every dollar we spent on you and Charlotte. That’s simply impossible,” Jane huffed. “Who saves every little receipt for all those years?”

“And you spent a lot of money on us, did you?” Allison asked, doing her best to hold her temper under control.

“Of course,” Jane insisted. “It cost a lot of money to feed and clothe and educate you two girls.”

“Five hundred thousand?” Allison asked.

Jane was taken aback. “What?”

“Did you and Uncle Russell spend all of the insurance money on Charlotte and me?”

“Of course we did,” Jane countered.

“Stop,” Allison demanded in a near shout. “Just stop. You didn’t spend any of that money on us. We know where it all went. You purchased your house and the land around it. You paid off your bills. You—”

“All right,” Jane cried out. “We were wrong, and we’re very sorry.”

“You were horrible to us. You know that, don’t you? You kept threatening that you would put me in foster care without my sister if I acted up. And we had to work to pay for anything we wanted, even school. Remember? And God help me if I was ungrateful. Those terror tactics started when I was four years old.”

Seeing her approach wasn’t succeeding, Jane decided to double down. There was a sigh and a contrite lowering of her eyes when she said, “We realize now how insensitive we were. We really are ashamed of our behavior, and we’re so very sorry.”

It was the most insincere apology Allison had ever heard. “What is it you want?” she asked, her voice flat and emotionless. “Or did you come here just to apologize?”

“Actually . . . ,” Jane began. She looked at her husband.

Russell teetered when he stood. “We want you to go to court with us and testify on our behalf,” he said.

They had rendered Allison speechless. Several seconds passed before she responded. “You want me to lie for you.”

“It wouldn’t be a lie,” Jane insisted. “No, no. We did give you a place to sleep, and we fed you.”

“What happens if I don’t go to court?”

Jane dabbed at the corners of her eyes, pretending to keep the tears at bay. “We could end up in prison.”

“Think of the positive,” Allison said. “You’d get to see Will more often.”

Liam coughed to cover his laughter. He had to admit that the utter audacity of Jane and Russell’s plea was impressive, but even more impressive was the way Allison stood up to them.

“You would let us go to prison?” Jane demanded.

The sneer that Allison was accustomed to seeing on her aunt’s face was making its way to the surface once again. So much for acting timid, she thought. She went to the door and Liam opened it for her. “It’s time for you to leave,” she ordered. “Don’t come here again. If you do, I’ll get a restraining order and call the police. Now, get out.”

There was fire in her uncle’s bloodshot eyes. “You’ll go to hell for this,” he mumbled as he stormed past.

Aunt Jane made it to the doorway and then stopped. “Why are you doing this to us?”

“Why?” Allison smiled. “I guess I’m just ungrateful.” She slammed the door shut and fell back against it, taking a long, deep breath. When she was calm enough to speak again, she looked at Liam. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she apologized.

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m very proud of you.”

“Proud?”

“Yes,” he answered. “You stood up to them, and they deserved it. The way I figure it, there are three kinds of people. The first kind are the good people who mostly do good things with their lives. The second are good people who sometimes get off track and do bad things. And then the third kind are the bad people who do bad things. I’d put your aunt and uncle in that category. I don’t think they’ll ever see the error of their ways.”

“You’re right. I’m sure they still think they can badger me. I haven’t heard the last of them.” She straightened her shoulders. “But I can handle it,” she said with assurance.

“Good girl,” Liam said as he gave her a hug.

He went to the desk for his gun. As he was strapping it on, a text came into his phone. He glanced at the screen. “I’ve got to go,” he said without explanation. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and then walked over to give her a quick kiss. “Sorry. I’ve got to take care of something. You said you had a question. Can it wait?” he asked.

“Sure,” Allison said, resignedly.

And once again she watched him leave.

—

Her job saved her from dwelling on Liam, and fortunately at night, once she turned on her new laptop, she could still escape into her work, and the world swirling around her ceased to exist.

She was back to two agents driving her to and from work, but now she knew most of them and enjoyed their company. Her assignments had become intense, many involving missing funds, and she had to stay late nearly every night.

Jordan had seen the photo of Allison’s crunched car—Noah got it from Alec, who had gotten it from Liam. She called to commiserate.

Allison’s greeting wasn’t the usual. “Men still suck.”

“Uh-oh. Should I come over?”

“No. I was just making a statement of fact. What’s going on?”

“Your car. Tell me what happened.”

“You already know what happened. I told you about it.”

“Yes, but I just now saw the photo. I can’t believe you walked away from that crash. My God, you hit a tree stump and then flipped and flipped. . . .”

Allison laughed. “I know. I was there.”

They spent a half hour discussing the horrible crash. Then Allison said, “I’ve got to get going. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Wait. Did you want to embellish on your opening remark?” Jordan asked, trying to be diplomatic.

“No, not now.”

Allison worked another hour and then went to bed. She was thankful Jordan hadn’t asked any questions about Liam. Maybe she already knew that the nonrelationship was over. Regardless, Allison wasn’t ready to talk about him. Her emotions were still too raw.

Just as she was drifting off to sleep, her phone rang. Her uncle Russell was on the line and was so drunk his words were slurred. He wanted her to know what an ungrateful bitch she was. All of his misery was her fault. She agreed just to get him to stop, but that didn’t work. She could hear her aunt Jane screeching like a colony of bats in the background. The sound was ear-piercing. Allison ended the call in the middle of one of his colorful threats.

“Bitch” seemed to be the word of the day, for, not five minutes later, Brett Keaton called to scream that very word at her over and over again. He told her he knew she had taken his work and made it her own. Great, now he believed his own lies. “You should be afraid,” he threatened. “Bad things can happen.”

She sighed. She was so sick of it all. “Bring it on,” she said, and then she ended the call.

All she needed now was for Brett’s partner, Fred Stiles, to call and threaten her. Then she’d have the devil’s trifecta.

Disheartened and feeling all alone, she muted her phone, turned the lights off, and crashed.