Eleven

 

 

 

After finally receiving permission, Liam opened the door to the basement.  He locked it behind him, not to keep anybody out since three other people had keys, but more to slow them down if they did decide to walk in on him.  He stepped off the bottom step and was just getting ready to say something to Bas when he realized, from the man’s hanging head and somewhat lax body, that he had passed out again. His brows scrunched down as he stepped closer because….was that a smile on the man’s face?

“Ten,” Bas blew out on a whisper from between his swollen, bloody lips.

Ten?  Was he fucking counting?  What the fuck did ten mean?

“God, Ten, so good,” he said with a moan.

Oh.

Ten was a, a, a person.

Liam couldn’t help the quiet chuckle.

Leave it to Bas Monroe to have an erotic dream while strapped from the ceiling like a slab of beef.

Fucker was tougher than anyone that Liam had ever met, including the asshole upstairs in his daughter’s room.

Liam’s eyes went wide when he saw that, despite the unbearable pain the man had to be in, his dick was giving a valiant effort to rise to the occasion.

He stepped closer and touched his fingertips to Bas’s chest, “Bas?” he whispered.

Striking faster than a snake, Bas’s strong legs shot out, clamped around Liam’s neck and began to squeeze.

Liam’s fingers trying to pull those tree trunks free was almost enough to make him laugh, except for the fact that he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Bas,” he croaked out, “Bas, please. I need your help.  Please.  Lily needs me.”

Bas’s legs loosened enough for Liam to suck in a few gulps of air.

“Whose Lily?”

“My daughter.  Luke’s daughter,” he said with a sob.

The legs loosened a little more, “You have a daughter?”

“Yeah. Well, she’s Luke’s but mine too.  We used a surrogate, a close friend of ours. Sonya.”

That had Bas’ eyes going wide, “Supergirl?” he swallowed hard. “How old?”

“She’s nine.”

“She here?”

“Yes.  Upstairs.”

“Who has her?”

Tears slid down Liam’s cheeks and onto those strong thighs.  Liam hiccupped, “My, my, my employer.”

“Who?”

Liam’s fingers dug into Bas’s legs, trying to pull them free but he didn’t answer.

So, Bas tightened them again and repeated, “Who?”

“Petyr.”

Bas jerked as if he’d been struck, “Popov?  Poppy?  But, but, he’s dead.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

Bas frowned.  Petyr Popov had been at the top of their Most Wanted list when they were in the soup - arms dealer, money launderer, thief, child trafficking - if it was in any way dirty, Poppy had his hands in it.

But he’d been killed in that same mission that had killed…..fuck.

Bas stared at Liam for an agonizingly long few seconds before his legs loosened a little more.

“How many men?”

“Six who work for him.  Four that I hired to, to….”

“Beat the shit outta me,” Bas finished for him.

Liam nodded his head once.

“So, you did this because your employer threatened your daughter’s life?”

Liam bit his bottom lip, “Not entirely.  I’ve been working for him for a year now.”

“Why?”

“Yes, because he threatened her, but also because I was lost?  Because I had no direction after Luke died? Because he claimed to know what really happened to Luke?  Pick a reason, they’re all true.”

“Did you get your answers?”

Liam shook his head, “No, not the ones I was looking for, anyways.”

“What answers did you get?”

“Enough to know that my employer has been using me the entire time.  Stringing me along by dangling carrots,  a shit-ton of money and a boat-load of veiled threats in front of me but never producing the information I needed.  After each mission, I told myself that I was done, that I was going to take Lily and run.  But then he’d hint at something or I’d look into Lily’s eyes and think what kind of life would it be for her if we ran.  And so I stayed, after each fucking mission, I stayed.  Waiting.  Hoping.  Terrified. Stuck.”

“I can get that truth for you, Liam.”

“I know that now.  Before I thought, I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I thought that maybe you were part of the reason Luke was gone.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck, Liam?  Why…”

Liam pinned Bas with a glare, “Bas, there’s no time.  Can I trust you to help me get my daughter out?”

Bas lowered his legs and dipped his chin.

“How fast can you get help here?”

“You got a phone?”

Liam bent down to retrieve the small cell he had hidden in his boot. 

“Untie me.”

Liam narrowed his eyes, “How soon can you get help here, Bas?”

“Thirty minutes.”

Liam snorted, “Yeah, right.  I’m not an idiot, Bas.”

Bas glared, “Liam, you want my fucking help or not?”

“I do but don’t blow smoke up my ass.  There’s no way you can put together an extraction team in thirty minutes.”

The corners of Bas’ mouth lifted up in either a sneer or a smile, could’ve been both, “Try me.”

Knowing he had no other choice, Liam sighed, placed the phone between his teeth and reached up to unbuckle the cuffs around Bas’s wrists.

The second one was free, Bas plucked the phone from Liam’s mouth and began punching in numbers.  “Where am I?” he said.

“Grapevine Manor.”

Bas’ eyes went wide, “Seriously?”

Everyone knew that Grapevine Manor, just outside of Denver, was one of the most prestigious homes and vineyards in Denver.

“It’s closed for renovations.  The owners are in France.  My employer offered them a hundred thousand dollars to rent it for two weeks.  Said he was filming a movie.”

Bas grunted as he brought the phone up to his ear.

“It’s me,” he said and then he paused for a moment as he listened.

“Yeah. A bit banged up but okay.  Look, I need a team.  Yeah.  Rescue and extraction.  Yeah.  Me, Murphy and a nine-year-old girl.  Thirty minutes.  Right.  Right.  Grapevine Manor.  Yep.  Right,” he said and then he ended the call.

Liam stared at him, sweat beading on his forehead. 

“We’re a go,” Bas said.

Liam wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was dread or relief.

More than likely, it was both.