Chapter Seven
Liam
Liam slides onto the cracked leather stool at the far end of the bar and rests his elbows on the scarred wood, clicking his fingers at the bartender. They know him here. Well. In no time a cold, foamy beer and shot-glass full of amber liquid appear in front of him. He tosses back the whiskey, grimacing slightly before nudging the glass back toward the edge of the bar. The bartender lifts a questioning brow and moves to refill the glass when Liam gives him a curt nod.
With a fortifying shot of whiskey in his gut, he nurses his beer, his forehead wrinkled with his thoughts. His most immediate thought is of Willow, her pretty little sundress torn open and framing her pink-tipped tits as she bounces on his cock. He takes a deep pull from his beer and tries to push the image aside.
He came here to drink and forget about Willow. Liam lifts his finger to order another beer, tipping back his glass to drain it.
Fucking Willow. Fucking women. Women have never led to him anything but trouble. First his mom, too drunk to care that his dad had him backed into a corner with his cruel taunts and crueler fists. More interested in the bottle than Liam’s bruises. And then there was Harriet. The woman who brought him down in more ways than one. She wasn’t just satisfied giving him in to the law. She decided to give him to someone else too. After he helped her, something that he vowed never to do again.
Beautiful Harriet with her cinnamon-colored curls and creamy skin. She’d attracted attention wherever she went and she’d loved it. The first time he saw her, she’d been undulating on stage, men showering her in crisp bills. Having moved from place to place ever since he’d left home, he suddenly didn’t want to be alone anymore.
Liam had been lugging a keg of beer from the storeroom when he saw her and he’d stopped, entranced by the way her curls brushed across the small of her back and her tits pointed to the sky. When she saw him staring, she gave him a knowing smile and ran her tongue over her plump bottom lip. He knew that the moment he lost his heart to a woman was the moment he died, and that was why he’d wanted company with Harriet, but not love. He’d vowed never to give his heart out again after his mom had died. Harriet was the perfect match for him at the time, but he’s not so sure about Willow.
As he drinks, he tries to figure out what category Willow falls into. The fact he can’t means that he had to stay away from her. The idea of anything else is too much of a burden. Liam slumps forward, resting his head on his fist and gestures for another drink. He’s not going to stop until his world slides into black. He knows that’s the only way he’ll be able to forget Willow. Tomorrow, when his hangover is pounding in his head and drying out his tongue he’ll be reminded all over again that he needs to be alone. No attachments, no friends, no problems.
As he sips on another burning whiskey, his thoughts slide back to Harriet. She’d whispered sweet words into his ear at night and then betrayed him. Liam takes another long sip of his beer and his eyes slip shut. Behind them, he sees Harriet.
Harriet, with her sweet voice, had talked him into one of the worst things he’d ever done. He’d helped her run her scam. Sweet Harriet, who had money showered across her naked body every night at the club, wanted more. So, she started dancing at private parties, mostly bachelor parties. And when even that wasn’t enough, she’d enlisted Liam and one of his buddies to help her rob the partygoers.
She would show up, do her dance, and then take the birthday boy or groom-to-be for his private dance. Liam had suspicions dancing wasn’t all she was doing but he went along because he’d do anything for Harriet. When she called, Liam and whatever low-life buddy happened to be around would bust in and rob the party. It had worked well and they’d made thousands of dollars off the drunken partygoers. Until the night it all went wrong.
Liam hadn’t known Carlo Nato but on that night Carlo became Liam’s downfall. He hadn’t known that Carlo owned the hotels where they’d been running their scams, or the club where both he and Harriet worked. He’d heard of Carlo, sure, everybody in Vegas had. The man was well known for his bad deeds but Liam hadn’t thought he’d ever cross paths with him. All Liam had been interested in was Harriet and partying in Vegas.
That fateful night, when Liam had busted into the hotel room to rob the party, he’d found Carlo and his goons instead. Liam had sported bruises for two weeks after they were done with him. He could have handled the beating, though, if he hadn’t been arrested immediately afterward. And then found out it was Harriet who’d set him up. Liam had watched, wrists uncomfortably jacked behind him in cuffs, as Carlo led Harriet out of the hotel suite, his fingers splayed across the small of her back, left bare in her stripper wear. She hadn’t turned around to look at him but Carlo had and his grin was nasty and shark-like.
Liam waves his hand at the bartender again; his world was hazy around the edges now and everything looks like it’s underwater. Still not enough for Liam. He doesn’t want to remember anything anymore. He can still bring up the picture of Willow and then she merges with Harriet until he can’t tell one from the other. He is dimly aware of the bartender talking to him, his voice sounds far away.
“…get you a cab?”
“Nope, get me a beer,” Liam slurs.
“Your funeral, buddy.” Liam hears him say and feels a cold, wet bottle nudging his hand.
Liam tries not to dwell on his time in prison. He’s seen the worst of humanity there, things that have kept him up at night and made it impossible to ever feel safe again. These thoughts, these memories, he locks into the back of his mind. But one memory that surfaces is Liam’s one saving grace, Detective Peters.
Detective Peters had tried to talk Liam into working with him to bring Carlo down. He knew Liam worked at the strip club and that gangsters and Mafioso of all sorts had frequented it. He was convinced Liam had information that would help and he’d promised a reduced sentence if Liam would help him out. Liam couldn’t do it. He knew snitching was the surest way to wind up as buzzard feed out in the desert. He couldn’t do it.
Detective Peters had treated him kindly, even though he’d refused to help. He’d been the only person who had treated Liam like a human. Every time he saw him he treated him with decency, even in court, even when Harriet was on the stand testifying, making out that it was Liam who was in the wrong. Liam was the one that she wanted to be sent down. For a new life, to get away; not only from Carlo, but from Liam too.
Detective Peters had periodically called in to the jail to ask Liam how he was doing, and had promised to keep an eye on him. Liam was pretty sure a word from Detective Peters was the only reason the guards had left him alone.
Liam gives a grunt and pushes the bottle to his lips again. His hands don’t want to cooperate with him and refuse to grip the glass. His last thought, before the glass slips from his numbed fingers and darkness drives his eyes closed, is of Willow smiling up at him.