CH 41

Alexa

I emerged from a shaded alcove in a strapless floor-length red ball gown dress fit for a princess, layers of organza pearls and crystals weaved into an elegant updo, complementing the shoulder-length halo diamond earrings I received this morning, a thoughtful gift from Liam by signed courier service.

Party guests drift through the grandeur jamboree wearing formal tuxedos and dazzling evening dresses, sipping expensive champagne, the four-course medieval-style banquet yet to commence.

Gilded wood girandoles embellish damask wallpaper, and scintillating chandeliers cast light from the ornate ceilings. From the majestic stage, the pianist soared the crescendo of piano keys, entertaining etiquette couples dancing with extraordinary grace.

I wandered between assembled conversationalists, the heels of my six-inch shoes clicking against the Emperador marble floor, chiffon train shadowing each thoughtful step. Grey-haired and suavely debonair, the sommelier stops to refill my champagne flute. I thanked him and headed to the long-stretched bar, joining personable male dominance, chortling and holding unlit cigars.

Placing my glittering clutch purse on the stonework countertop, forgoing the red-velvet upholstered stool, I stood with a graceful but enticing posture, seemingly woeful and unaccompanied. It’s efficacious to lure unhappy, miserable married men. They see a young, companionless, depressed woman staring into her wine glass, and deem her an easy fornication target. Of course, a despondent, lonely woman like myself craves compliments and attention from a man—who loves his wife, but her unreciprocated adoration diminished as a result of numerous children and life’s countless predicaments—but, consequently, attributed to their dishonourable unfaithfulness.

Care for another drink?

Would you like to dance?

Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?

Your smile lit up the room, so I had to come over.

And my favourite.

My friends made a bet that I couldn’t start a conversation with the most beautiful woman in the bar. Want to buy some drinks with their money?

I liked the last one. It worked a treat because, hey, I am here to screw you over, so get those drinks in, handsome.

While portraying Victoria, I heard every corny pick-up line and withstood shocking flattering and dramatic flirting techniques.

Most adulterous married men, although appreciating the sophistication of another woman, would trade a clandestine night of affairs for their wives affections. Realistically, it’s a sad truth when you think about it. How two people can espouse and adore each other so much but fall apart as a consequence of financial issues, lack of dating and communication, family interceding and children prioritising. I mean, the last one is a sensitive matter as you should give precedence to your child, but I wish loveless couples would see that building a family isn’t a life sentence. You can still raise and cherish children without neglecting each other and forgetting the reasons why you fell in love at the beginning.

I am young, inexperienced and somewhat ignorant. It’s easy for someone who’s never married or had children to sit on the sidelines and deliver judgment. I will, however, learn from the mistakes of others by mentally storing noteworthy advice on how to prevent my future husband from straying.

Why did Liam’s face suddenly come to mind?

I smiled foolishly to myself.

God, I wish. Liam’s the forever endgame for me, but he’s not marriage material. At this point in our vacillating relationship—that hangs on by a precariously thin string—I cannot determine or foresee a longstanding future together.

Walter Atherton, The Mayor’s Chief of Staff, set a gentle hand on my lower back as he slipped onto the available stool to my right. “Pardon my forwardness,” he said in a velvet laced voice, “but I must ask, do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past again?”

Oh, that one was disgusting.

Resting my hip against the bar, I plastered on a fake smile. “Smooth,” I joked, eyeing him over the champagne glass. “Is that the first time you used that line tonight, or am I an exception?”

Sweeping a dark brown lock from his brow, he flashed me his pearly white veneers, accentuating a rather cute dimple. “Cynical romantic?”

“Jaded,” I lied, hearing Jace snort in my ear.

Walter’s gaze lingered on the scar beneath my eye. “May I buy you a drink?”

“Whatever for?” I mused, tapping the glass stem with a polished red fingernail. “Complimentary champagne.”

“Of course.” His tweaked eyebrows cinched as he muttered a curse. “What’s your name?”

“Victoria.” I curled my small fingers around his large ones, accepting a warm, gracious handshake. “Yourself?”

“Walter.” Clearing his throat, he tugged the collar of his shirt. “Where’s your date?”

“Lone Ranger.” I am not in the mood for small-talk tonight. “Listen, Walter. We both know you are not interested in what church I attend on Sunday’s or if I wear furry yeti boots while knitting. If you are here for trivial conversing, hoping it’ll get you laid, you needn’t bother wasting your time.” Moving in, I put a hand on his chest and teased his ego with a breathless whisper. “I am more of a cut-to-the-chase type of woman. If you want me bent over a desk and moaning your name in the next five minutes?” I licked the shell of his ear with a naughty stroke. “Now is your chance.”

Brushing past him with my clutch in hand, I swayed toward the gilded double doors that verged to the office floor, feeling him close behind me.

Stepping outdoors and ambling around the corner, I glanced over my shoulder, alluring him with a deceiving smile, the train of my dress lengthening between us.

Walter, unbuttoning his shirt collar, prowled like a predator to prey, a savage glint in his heavy-lidded eyes.

Away from guests and security, he snatched my wrist, hauled me into a dark alcove and smashed his lips on mine. “You naughty slut,” he growled in my mouth, his hands, frantic and desperate, tugging up my dress. “I should put you on your knees and shove my cock in that filthy mouth.”

I feigned an erotic moan, fingers tangling in his dishevelled hair, tugging the roots. “Will you fuck me here and risk exposure, Walter? How will you tear screams from me with controlled consistency?”

“Shit,” he groaned, striving to ram his tongue down my throat. “Let’s get this ass,” he squeezed my black laced cheek for good measure, “on that desk.”

Fishing out a set of keys, he righted his trousers to alleviate strain on his groin, checked our surroundings, ensuring an all-clear, and then dragged me into the main office. He unlocked the door with trembling hands. Anxious and turned on—exactly where I wanted him.

I entered first, made a mental inventory of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves showcasing limited edition collectables, the emerald and gold stone rug blending in with the rustic green walls and panelled wood.

By the window, I tilted the blinds and stared at the shadowed vastness, a ceiling of twinkling lights canopied from lined trees, leading towards the labyrinth, maze garden.

“I want to see those tits,” he said, bolting the door behind us. “We have,” he glimpsed at his watch, “twenty minutes before the speeches.” Unbuckling his belt, he signalled for me to get on the dominating dark wood desk. “Ass in the air, Victoria. I am going to fuck you like an animal.”

Oh, he’s arrogant and most definitely conniving. I almost believed his former gentleman act. It seems respect goes out the window once the woman’s a done deal. Walter’s lucky I have Jace in my ear and not Liam because he’d be choking on his member after that salacious affirmation.

“Give me a moment.” Tossing my purse onto the tan leather high back chair, I ignored the sound of his slackening zipper, noting the time on the grandfather clock. “Can you turn around so I can tuck a condom in?”

Walter blinked in bewilderment. “I’m sorry. Did you say, a condom?”

“Yep.” I shook the foil packet I pinched from Liam’s drawer. “Protection for females,” I fibbed, “Wonderful contrivance, right?”

“Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly queasy, “sure, yeah, whatever. Just hurry up so I can jack one.”

Masking my disgust, I wait for him to turn, remove the flash drive from my thigh holster and insert it into the Mayor’s USB port beneath the desk. “Two seconds…” The light changes from red to green. “Almost done.” Tearing the foil packet with my teeth, I flapped out the rubber and deliberately speared my finger through the end. “Oh, shit. It snapped.”

Subtly shaking his head, Walter extracts his leather wallet, hunting for a backup. “We can use mine.”

I watched the computer light alternate from green to red at intermittent intervals. “Yeah,” I agreed, half-listening, pulse thunderous in my ears. “If not, I am sure the restrooms—”

“No, time,” he snapped, fumbling through compartments. “I’ll pull out if I must.”

I don’t think so, asshole.

The solid white light flickered, and a triumphant smile danced on my lips. “Genius,” I whispered under my breath, knowing Jace was listening.

“Got one.” Walter rounded the desk, his semi-hard shaft dangling through his opened fly. “Are you prepared for the best sex of your life, Victoria?”

His self-assurance compelled a snort. “You bet.”

Sheathing his adequately sized length, he lost his suit jacket to the floor, snatched my hips and lifted me onto the desk. Resting on my elbows, I shoved my heeled foot onto his chest, and he caught my ankle, growling kisses along my calve. “I wish I had time to taste this juicy nectar…” Someone hammered their fist on the door. “Shit,” he dropped a curse, yanking me off the desk. “It might be Fagan.”

No, I needed more time. I glanced at the USB, listening to Jace prattling protests in the earpiece.

Walter, panicked he might lose his job, stuffed the condom in his trouser pocket and tucked himself away. “You might need to hide.”

I am sick of hiding for the sake of unwanted visitors—the door knocked once more, and my anxieties shot through the roof. “Nath?” I mumbled a cough, adrenaline soaring to a feverish pace.

“Thirty seconds,” he bites, his fingers tapping furiously in the background.

“Walter.” Grasping a fistful of his shirt, I opened my mouth, scampering for a diversion. “Kiss me.” I pressed a long kiss to his lips, his rigid body relaxing. I felt nothing, completely numb and devoid of any emotion as his soft hands held my cheeks, mouth slowly tasting mine. Jace whispered the all-clear in my ear, and I dropped my hand to extract the USB from the port, hiding it in a clenched fist.

“I think whoever swung by left the building,” Walter joked, smiling against my lips. “Can I find you after the speeches? I’ll book us a hotel instead so that we can fuck in peace.”

He started so well. If I were interested, I’d take his proposal in a heartbeat, but he’s stolen enough of what doesn’t belong to him tonight. “Sure,” I lied for the final time, wiping red lipstick from his mouth. “I’ll be at the bar.”

Combing a hand through his hair, he neatened his tousled look, led me to the door and, in a moment of silent discombobulation, he stared at the masked man in the hallway, unable to decipher his tall, muscular frame, all-black attire and balaclava concealment.

Walter’s face burnt crimson. “You—”

Quicker than lightning, the guy snatched Walter’s throat and drove him back into the room, locking the door behind him.

I put my back to the wall, a pang of guilt knotting my stomach. The men wrestled for leverage, and Walter’s back met the attacker’s chest, throat shrilled beneath a winding, unyielding arm, legs jerking, kicking blindly to escape asphyxiation.

“Close your eyes,” Jace whispered in my ear.

I couldn’t look away. I watched the masked man tighten a hand around Walter’s hair, using extreme force to draw his head back. In a swift but forceful movement, his arm bowed under Walter’s chin, and the sound of a loud snap resounded in my ears.

Acidic bile ruptured the lining of my stomach. In sheer horror, I witnessed Walter’s lifeless body collapse in the man’s confinement, arms and legs drooping idly at his sides.

Elevating Walter by the waist, the attacker walked backwards, hauling the dead body with him. Without care or thought, he flung open a closet door, hurled the Walter inside and slammed him into darkness.

Powering towards me, the guy disarmed himself, yanked up his mask and familiar whiskey coloured eyes greeted me. “Brad,” I said, then jabbed him in the shoulder with a curled-up fist. “A heads up next time, asshole. Nobody told me you were going to kill him.”

“It’s nice to see you, too.” He dipped his head, invading my humid breathing space. “Alexa.” The corner of his lip ticked, mischievous eyes dancing through strands of unruly blond strands. “Blue eyes suit you.”

My thrashing heart decelerated to a reasonable rate. I lifted the USB stick between us. He wrapped his gloved hand over my knuckles, holding me for a comforting few minutes.

“I like you, Alexa. And I’m pretty fucking stoked that you rose from the dead an all,” he half-joked, giving me one of his signature winks, “but don’t fuck with the boss’ heart again, sweetheart. I don’t like it.”

Brad wasn’t angry or hostile. His warning, though lined with menacing aptitudes, came from a good place. Brad, much like the other Suits, adores his boss. It’s his job to look after Liam’s interests. “You have my full permission to castigate me if I do.”

He nudged my chin with his knuckles, adjusted the balaclava. “You need to get back to the main room. Warren’s on the prowl.”

I opened the door and peered into the darkness. “Where is he?”

“He’ll find you.” Brad faded in the opposite direction, tucking the stolen data inside his heavy-duty boot.

Drifting through the intersecting halls, I clicked the earpiece. “Where are you?”

“Changing location,” Jace confirmed, the sound of his hurried footsteps droned. “I only have forty-five minutes to break through servers.”

“Nath,” I whispered, resting my back to a wall. “Thank you for helping.”

Jace has the skillset to access encrypted government software. Much like Nate, he’s capable of the incapable, but Liam needed his elite men for tonight’s bombardment.

When I first raised the idea to Liam, he shut me down, refusing to let Jace assist. I persisted, though, knowing it’ll earn Jace some brownie points, or, if nothing else, an act of clemency.

Liam reluctantly agreed but swore he’d never accept Jace or our friendship. I hadn’t argued the matter. Baby steps, I concluded—this all occurred outside Heather’s bed-and-breakfast from his luxurious Bentley. Once the stubborn man relented, I coaxed his moody backside into the backseats and fucked him senseless. Tonight will be the first time we see each other since our agreement.

“Vick, It’s all good. I’m kinda hoping it’ll keep Warren off my back for a beat.” I heard shuffling. “Listen, I got to bounce. Do you still need me in your ear?”

“No, I think we’re good to go.”

“Okay, I’ll be at the maze in an hour.”

“Bye, Nath.” Muting the earpiece, I pushed myself away from the wall, turned the corner and returned to the pompous extravaganza.

Snatching a champagne flute from a passing waiter, I tilted my head back and swallowed bubbles in one, waded through the elaborately detailed dinner setting, feeling him everywhere. I slowed down, silencing loud conversations and harmonious piano-music. At a funeral pace, guests sailed past in their ostentatious glamour, leaving pleasant smelling fragrances in their wake.

Goosebumps dusted my skin. He’s close. I can feel him.

“Alexa,” Liam whispered behind me, his breath warm to my neck. He fisted the back of my dress, tight, a growl falling from his lips. “You look fucking beautiful.”

And this is why platitudinous flirtations, butter-soft hands and restrained kisses fail to cooperate with my heart. I craved coarse palms on my flesh, fiercely intoxicating kisses that leave me in a dazed state of breathlessness. I needed those possessive claims whispered in my ear.

I closed my eyes for a second, the repetitive thump of my heart, responding to his rough voice.

Tailored in a Brioni grey primo suit and black shirt, Liam’s imperial height veiled a shadow over me. I craned my neck to look at him, wanting nothing more than to fall into his arms and steal a kiss from those full lips. “Mr Warren.”

Norlan whiskey glass in hand, he lifted the delicate rim to his lips and sipped, all while penetrating me with those captivating ice blues.

My gaze, not once, strayed. I watched him watching me, an impossible smile on my lips.

Watchful eyes veering over my shoulder, he lowered his head, mouth millimetres from my ear. “There are a lot of women here tonight,” he rasped, reciting the very words that claimed my heart. “Yet my eyes found you.” He laid a firm kiss to the column of my neck, lips lingering on my pulse.

“Liam,” I breathed, aligning our eyes.

He made a low growling noise. “I am in love with you.” His kiss to my skin set a scorching rosiness to my cheeks as we separated.

Masquerading my impression, I proceeded to the bar, pondering how long it’ll be before the mayoral team perceived the Chief of Staff “absquatulated.” I made a reckless decision. While ordering a refill from the bar, I sought out Liam. Amidst a group of champagne socialists, he involves himself in lengthy conversations, often nodding when agreeing, unable to split his attention between numerous suited men. I know its façade, a misconceiving display, but seeing his arm draped around Hellen’s waist sickened me.

Pure rage and jealousy reddened their ambience.

I considered myself decent until she arrived. Her long, slicked-back wet-hair fell straight. Iced diamonds pearled her neckline, ears and wrists, the sexy, off-the-shoulder slit dress glittered and reflected off the lights, drawing so much bastard attention.

As if sensing my troubled thoughts, Liam, while his mouth moved to discussions, raised his gaze to find me. His face, inexpressive, but those dangerous blue eyes identified my perturbation. I gave him an indiscernible yet reassuring smile. Judging by the tension in his jaw, though, he knows I am a far cry from comfortable with their closeness.

Hellen throws her head back in a fit of laughter, melting into his side. When she lifts off her feet and welds her mouth to his, I snap the champagne stem, the shards nicking my fingers.

Elegance in the trash, I fling the broken glass onto the countertop and meander through packed tables. I will not torture my heart with that gruesomeness. If I don’t remove myself, then I can’t promise I won’t stab a fork in her eye.

In slow motion, I spied Nate coasting behind Roman-style columns. No drink, companion or arsenal. He blends in with socialists, passing smiles, tapping shoulders, the occasional handshake. His forest green eyes caught mine as he gravitated closer. Wordless, he brushed an inked hand over my chest, thumb edging the bodice of my dress, and then he ghosts me, vanishing into the crowd.

What in the world?

Eyebrows meeting in a miffed scowl, I smoothed a palm over my pounding heart, feeling a foreign object attached to the encrusted rhinestones, a silver antique style brooch to my dress, the red diamond cloaking the tracking device.

I watch Liam prowl towards an older gent near the bar. He tapped the man’s back, encouraging him to turn. The guy looked over his shoulder, The Mayor, neglected his Royal Doulton and offered Liam a white-knuckled handshake. Both men, face-to-face, calm but guarded, small-talk, curt and sharp.

The Mayor’s lips grimaced each time Liam spoke, and his squared posture told me he loathed the man I love. Larry felt my distant scrutiny. He flicked me a stone-cold stare, and an intense undercurrent alights my pulsing veins, vessels straining to pump blood flow. Examining me from head to toe, he rolled his eyes at something Liam said, resuming his conversation.

I had no concept of what Liam had in store for that man or this pretentious onset, but nauseating dread strangled my erratic heart. Mouth salivating with insufferable trepidation, I turned on my heel, fisted the trail of my dress and sprinted to the restrooms. In less than ten seconds, I am, without a doubt, going to ruin these regal floors with vomit.

Pushing my way into the female bathroom, I picked the first cubicle and fell on my knees in time to mitigate my stomach. Catching my breath between violent intervals, I put a hand to the tiled wall for support, sobered up within seconds. “Holy shit,” I moaned, wiping sweat from my brow.

I blew out a calming breath, dabbed a tissue on my lips, chucked it down the toilet and pulled the flush.

Perched on the closed seat, I gathered my scattered thoughts, heard the bathroom door crash into the wall as somebody abruptly stormed inside.

My ears perked up to listen, but the woman—well, I assume it’s a female as it’s the ladies’ room; stranger things have happened—didn’t use the toilet facilities. In fact, it was too quiet, so quiet that I knew this person was waiting for me. Two guesses who that could be, I thought, straightening out my dress.

Why couldn’t she corner me before my unbecoming puking episode?

I opened the door and came face-to-face with an unappeased Hellen Bennett.

You do not want to pick a fight with me.

“I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” Extending an arm, she snatched my hand, squeezing with the intent of snapping my fingers. “Hellen Bennett. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Her condescending scorn irked me. “And who might you be? I organised the guest list.” Coking her head to the side, she sliced her angry eyes. “I don’t recall putting you on there.”

I shouldered past and washed my hands at the sink. “Victoria,” I lied, checking my reflection in the mirror. Opening my clutch, I fossicked for war paint, unscrewed lipstick and painted my lips red. “And I received a personal invite from the mayoral team.”

Her beautiful eyes ebbed heavenward, considering the plausible possibility. “Who?”

If I said Walter, then his death will have my name all over it. “Are you, like, part of management or something? I don’t need to answer your questions—”

“I saw him with you,” she snarled, hands curling into fists. “When I first arrived, Liam entertained you. Why?”

If that’s her idea of entertainment, then she’s dumber than she looks. “I don’t know who you’re referring to, Hellen. I don’t recall a man by that name.” I popped a chewing gum in my mouth. “Now if you’ll excuse me—” Her hand seized my forearm. “Remove your hand. Now.”

“It’s you,” she spat, manicured fingernails denting my skin. “I recognise your perfume from the penthouse.”

“What are you babbling on about? Seriously, Hellen. I think you had too much to drink.”

“Do not take me for a fool.” Pointing an accusing finger in my face, she tried to intimidate me, but with these heels accentuating my height, I towered her frame. “Liam Warren is mine. Now, I don’t know what tawdry cave you exited, but I will not stand back and allow you to hinder my relationship.” Her nose virtually touched mine. “You do not want to trial my capabilities.”

With spiteful truths, I could snap her heart in two. “Take whatever pathetic threats you geared-up to lunge at me and get the fuck out of my face before I remove the nine-millimetre strapped to my lace garter and make you choke on it,” I snapped, backing her up against the wall. “You think having a powerful man on your arm ensures your safety, but I promise you, not even Liam Warren himself could stop me from wreaking devastating chaos.”

Hellen’s nose crinkled in disdain. “It’s my father’s assembly. You must leave the building effective immediately, or I’ll have you arrested.”

“Good luck,” I tsked, flung open the bathroom door and exited to the sound of her piercing shriek.

That woman’s certifiable.

CH 42

Liam

“Mr Warren.” Gibbons, a male member of parliament, held my hand, an enthusiastic greeting. “How’s life treating you? I heard you stumbled into a new business venture.”

Hellen glance between us. “You didn’t mention a new investment, Liam.”

“Yes, Warren acquired Timothy Andino’s casino,” Mr Gibbons explained, his grey, bushy eyebrows furrowing. “Although I must ask, Warren. How did you convince him into selling? I offered to take those wheels from his hands many years ago, which he vehemently declined.”

“I am a persuasive individual when I want something,” I said, hard-faced and distant. “Besides, Andino missed his homeland. He returned to Athens shortly after to reside with family.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, and my hand tightened around the whiskey glass. “I liked Tim. The commission will miss him.”

I did not know whether Gibbons attributed to Bajramovic’s involvement with human trafficking, but if he aligned himself with men like Andino, he’s a plausible suspect.

“Will you market the niterie, Mr Warren?” Eleanor, another parliamentarian, accepted champagne from the waiter.

My lips twisted wryly. “For what purpose?”

“Well, isn’t orchestrating multiple businesses wearisome? Oh, but you must preserve The Grape and Vine. My husband, Walter, has an unspoken addiction for the lobster Benedict. In actuality,” she jutted her chin to scope the room, “where has that man gotten himself? He was occupying the bar a moment ago.”

Walter’s either unconscious or dead. “No, I am a man with multifarious interests.” I wish Hellen would stop slobbering my cheek with lapdog kisses. “Club 11 isn’t going anywhere.”

“Have you visited the club, Eleanor?” Hellen asked, stroking the back of my neck with razor-sharp fingernails.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Eleanor responds, reserved displeasure in her monolid-shaped eyes. “Nevertheless, I do believe Walter mentioned enjoying an evening there once.”

Yes, Walter had a fantastic time with three dancers, too. If my memory serves me right, he purchased the diamond suite for six hours, imbibed a reckless quantity of syndicate stocked cocaine and Hennessey before fucking himself comatose. With the greatest amount of respect, Eleanor’s unpleasantly harsh on the eye, so I can hardly blame the man for looking elsewhere. Her frosty, standoffish nature suggests an ecstatically wild time in the bedroom—note the sarcasm. I bet the poor sod hadn’t experienced so much as a grope from the puritanical mare, never mind good-head or orgasmic sex.

While the others gossipped, Hellen nibbled my jawline, suggestively hinting that we meet each other inside the male restroom. “Surely, you miss it, Liam,” she breathed a groan in my ear. “It’s been far too long since I had you in my mouth. If you behave, I might swallow.”

The only woman I want tasting my cock sends murderous daggers in my direction. Alexa’s crestfallen face made my chest ache. I held her stare, silently assuring. With a morose smile, she lost her sad expression and blended into the crowd. “Breast-pin,” I ordered, and Nate mumbled his whereabouts in my earpiece.

“What was that?” asked Hellen, her eagle-eyes hot on my optical axis. “Do you know that woman?”

I remained nonchalant. “Who?”

“The blonde,” she pointed out, her voice low but commanding. “Don’t pretend otherwise, Liam. I saw you speaking to her on my arrival.”

Giving her a pointed look, I expelled a ragged breath. “Just a woman I bumped into while trying to find you,” I reassured, placing a chaste kiss to her temple. “You look exceptional by the way.”

Hellen’s untrusting stare ploughed into me as she chronicled my every move. “Thank you, Liam. You look rather suave yourself.” Clearing an uncomfortable pinch in her throat, she faked a smile for the mayoral party.

Alongside the colourful assortment of arrogance, her mother, Beverly Bennett, a vainglorious bitch with a tight upper lip.

“Here’s the wonderful man I told you about.” Hellen laced our arms, pulling me into their private conversation. “Liam, I’d like to introduce you to my mother, Beverly.”

“Mrs Bennett.” Bringing the woman’s hand to my mouth, I left a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “You look far too young to be Hellen’s mother.”

There’s an element of validation to my feigned chivalrousness. Beverly, an older woman, but the Botox did a tremendous number on her sour profile. Flawless skin yet hooded eyes, she wears a blue skin-tight cocktail dress that makes a feature of her overpowering hues.

“You are too kind.” Beverly forwarded her daughter a sneaky wink. “Has your father met him yet?”

You’d never think I had the capabilities of speaking for myself.

“Not yet.” Hellen, distressed, side-eyed me. “He’s at the bar, Liam. Why don’t you go and introduce yourself while I visit the ladies’ room?”

It would be my utmost honour. “Of course.” As the mother’s protectiveness radiated, I murmured a kiss to Hellen’s lips, a final display of affection before I uncaged the devil on earth to incarcerate the very people who dared harm the woman I love.

Headed straight for The Mayor of London, I downed a shot of Johnnie Walker Blue label and handed the empty glass to a waitress.

I watched Nate accidentally knock into Fagan, grappling the man’s suit jacket, mumbling a heart-warming apology.

Fagan bent a deriding eyebrow, dismissed Nate and continued his conversation with associates.

Schooling his features, Nate distanced himself from the tyrant, leaving the tracking device in place. His short glance told me everything transpired effortlessly. Without communication, we parted ways.

Altering personalities to acclimatise, I tapped Fagan’s shoulder. “Mr Fagan,” I said, and he graced me with a supercilious frown, silencing his associate’s nattering. “Liam Warren—”

“I know who you are,” he interrupted, ordering a sherry from the bar. “What do you want, Mr Warren?”

I’ll overlook his impoliteness—for now. “Your beloved daughter asked me to introduce myself.” I raised my brows to the barman, silent gratitude for the whiskey he set on the countertop.

“Yes, Hellen,” he clipped, searching for the woman. “Where is she?”

“She needed to freshen up,” I said with a touch of sexual innuendo.

Fagan straightened his spine, flattening a hand over his rounded stomach. He tweaked the collar of his royal blue shirt, briefly listening to the grandiloquent speeches segueing from the grand stage. “I must say, Warren, your relationship with my daughter took me by surprise.” Crow’s feet crinkled his upturned eyes. “Is there an ulterior motive?”

“You presume I have an extrinsic reason for pursuing Hellen?” Fagan isn’t an exception. Most fathers would protest the idea of me dating their daughters.

“I am The Mayor of London,” he patronised in a way that questioned my intelligence. “It is my job to know what occurs in my city, Warren.”

My city, I thought, drinking to quench the extreme itch to pummel him.

“Affirmatively, you are a well-to-do man, but your two-faced duplicity raises concern. And, as a father who only wants the best for his child, I strongly disapprove of your involvement with Hellen.” Man-to-man, we stared each other down. “Expose yourself, Warren. The media covers you in an interesting light. You have a predilection for women.”

“What warm-blooded, straight male doesn’t appreciate the closeness of females, Fagan?”

“One that’s promising fidelity to my daughter.”

I promise nothing. “I shan’t apologise for my choice of lifestyle.”

The Mayor ignored my asinine remark. “I have a proposal for you.”

Excepted. “What did you have in mind?”

“I want you to end this absurd relationship with my daughter,” he hissed, jowls jiggling and beet-red as he prepared a harangue. “You mightn’t be a father yet, but someday, Mr Warren, your daughter, will be the apple of your eye.”

Contrary, I thought, knowing damn well children weren’t part of my future.

“You will demand only the best for her and, while remaining respectful of your position, let’s keep it frank, you, Mr Warren, are not a worthy candidate for such a remarkable young woman. My daughter merits a decent man—not some bigoted, philandering tycoon, who, as we both know, cares only for himself.”

I felt the intensity of Alexa from across the room. While Fagan chewed off my ear for being a bent criminal, I regarded her. With each word spat in my face, my blood boiled, heart beating furiously against my ribcage as I bridled my hot rage.

Of course, the son of a bitch sensed I paid scarce attention to his idle threats. He chose the minute I watched my woman to break away, to look at her, curious and pensive.

I clenched my jaw. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” I reflected, feeling her distancing as moved ahead. Witnessing her departure wasn’t necessary. My heart responds to her nearness, beats harder when she leaves me. “You are right, Fagan. If for a stupid reason, I decide to bear children, I’d want nothing but the best for them.”

His Adam’s apple shifted, bobbed, upstroke, downstroke. “What was that?” He asked, his pallid expression prompting my sinister smirk. There it goes again, that lodged lump, sticking to the inner walls of his tightening throat.

My cold stare invaded his. “I was telling you that I appreciate your distress regarding Hellen.”

“Yes,” he mumbled, his round, wild eyes ricocheting around the room. “My daughter, Hellen. I don’t want any conflicts with you, Warren…” He’s speechless, sickly grey and sweating buckets. “If you’ll excuse me.”

I stepped in front of him, preventing his absconding. “I wasn’t finished.”

Chest heaving as he scuffled for breath, he pulled a silk napkin from his suit pocket, dabbed perspiration from his wrinkled forehead.

“As I was saying, if I brought children into the world, I’d protect them fiercely, possessively—commence wars like no other to ensure their safety—so I understand the resentment. I am, although most ignore the reason behind my wealth, a renowned criminal. It’s fascinating how I manage to align myself with lawful men akin to yourself.” I see Nate exit through the main doors, altering the volume of his earpiece. “I am a heartless bastard who enjoys the sight of blood, especially at my hands.” Grazing a palm over his shoulder, I dusted off fine lint. “One last question before you try and flee the building. What do you consider monstrosity? Criminals combatant against each other? Serial killers? Gross misconduct in the police force? Husbands, who murder their wives? Fathers, who abuse their children? Opportunists, who sell their souls to the devil for revitalisation?”

Fagan glared deep into my eyes. “All of the above.”

Omnipresent piano-music reduced when the amplifiers malfunctioned. On the cavernous dance floor, party guests stalled their waltzing, contemplating why the melody diminished.

I put my back to the bar, raised the glass to my lips and said, “It’s time to end what you started.”

***

Alexa

I stormed down the halls, fighting the urge to retrace my steps and shove Hellen’s head down the toilet. “Bitch…” Aloft lights, one by one, slowly disappeared, engulfing the antique gold rococo picture frames and Edwardian paintings, the pitch-black mist creeping towards me. “Nath,” I whispered, clicking my earpiece. I withdrew, shaky legs escaping the billowing shadows. “Nathan, can you hear me?”

The final beam faded. I recoiled, laying my back to the wall. No, darkness doesn’t get to control me anymore. I gear myself for the gut-wrenching incursion, open my eyes and face obscurity. “Nathan…” Heart collapsing to the pit of my stomach, I licked the roof of my dry mouth, grappling for oxygen. “My chest…” Levelling a palm to my throat, I massaged, fingers determined to unclog airwaves.

Breathe, I thought, inhaling a deep breath, respiring in intervals. I heard a spine-shattering scream before clamorous gunfire, and shrilling cries echoed in the distance.

I stared into nothingness, neck-deep in guilt-ridden fright and anxious tribulation.

“Vick, you…need…” Jace’s orders failed, the earpiece crackling. “Get…out…”

Trilling chimes ruptured in my ear. I winced, tugged out the piece and stuffed it in my bag. Down the hall, I heard Hellen’s disconcerted shouting, calling for her father.

I despised the woman, but, in that distressing period, I felt shame for her impending bereavement. Hand fusing to the wall, I navigated ahead, small, considered steps, unseeingly hunting for an exit.

Liam said, under no circumstances, must I stay inside City Hall once bombardment commenced. I had to find Jace in the gardens, to leave without looking back.

It’s time, I thought, blindly scaling a corner, fingertips tracing the patterned wallpaper, breathing controlled, ears honed, listening to sporadic gunshots and excruciating cries.

I experienced a jolt of fear in my stomach, worried for Liam and the Suits. Some of the best military men skulked City Hall, marksman and sharpshooters. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to my favourite people, especially Liam.

Resounding footsteps crashed against the marble floors as a stampede of terrified people swarmed from the main room, pushing and shoving each other, dispersing in blind directions. I heard knees collide with the ground, muffled whimpers and shattering glass.

I halted my movements—A gloved hand cupped my mouth, and my eyes protruded. “It’s me,” Brad said, and I wilted in his muscular arms. “We need to get you out of here.” Dragging me back in the direction I came from, he laced our fingers together, wrenching me behind him. “Keep up.”

Clinging to him, I hurried my footsteps, gaited intersecting passageways, the smell of copper permeating the air. “Oh, God. What is that smell? Is it blood?”

“Shh,” he scolds, abruptly stopping.

I crashed into his back, muttered expletives.

Brad let go of my hand, hoisted an object—his weapon, deafening and dust-shattering, chewed through belts of ammunition, revolving with the automatic traverse.

Pressing my palms over my ears, I buried my head on his tense back, feeling the powerful vibrations wave through his body. The pained screams had nothing on the sound of this ear-splitting gun. It tore through flesh, ripped it to shreds—I perceived each laceration, pinging casings and strafed slaughter. Thick smog invaded my throat, deflating my lungs.

Brad ceased fire, but the ringing inside my ears pounded. “Step over the bodies,” he berates, and I nodded, hanging onto his leather jacket. “Keep walking.” My foot clipped an outstretched obstacle, and I almost toppled. “Alexa, Christ’s sake.” His arms wrapped around my waist, helping me dodge warm corpses. “Watch where you’re going.”

“I would if I could fucking see,” I whisper-shout, stumbling, catching bloodied bodies with my foot. “Oh, God.”

We reached something cold. He rattled a handle, the door, unlocked the bolt and swung it open, generating moonlight. “Run straight to the maze, Alexa.” He jerked up his balaclava, and bloodied sweat dripped from his cracked eyebrow. “Find Jace and get the hell out of dodge.”

I bleached at the sight of his marred face. Cupping his steeled jaw, I examined his busted lips. “What happened?”

“Altercation,” he said as if it weren’t a big deal. “Go on. Bounce.”

Before leaving, I enveloped my arms around him. At first, he didn’t repay my kindness, but soon sagged his head to my shoulder, hugging me back.

“I know you hate me right now,” I whispered, his wild heartbeat synchronising mine, “but I love the shit out of you.”

He chuckled in my ear, feathering a kiss to the scar by my eye. “If tonight doesn’t prove how much Warren loves you,” he said, and I scowled, “I don’t know what will.”

With one final smile, he vanished inside, leaving me standing on the concrete steps, encumbered and perplexed.

Grappling the train of my dress, I gathered the layered material to my waist, kicked off my shoes, descended the steps and ran full pelt towards the extensive maze.

With only the moon and concrete gargoyles as my witness, I sprinted past raised hedges adorned in flickering white lights, bare feet striking the cold uneven slabs.

Tumbling into the wrought iron gate, I fumbled with a rusted handle, jolted the bars aside, the hinges complaining. Entering the complex structure, I reduced speed, awe-inspired by the ghostly yet picturesque walled garden. It was beautiful, terrifyingly so.

“Nathan.” Cold winds sheathed my body, puckering horripilation to my parched skin. I whacked jagged branches away, thorns welting my face. “Nathan, can you hear me?”

Walking backwards, back hitting a hedge, I glimpsed from left to right, not knowing which route to choose. My panicked gaze landed on those dominating gates, concluding it’s safer to stand down, wait for Jace to find me instead.

Midst low hanging fogs, I see two silhouettes barrelling straight in my direction.

Swallowing a swollen lump, I scampered left, meandered narrowed hedge-lined passages, absently selecting routes and corners.

Each journey resembled the last. I wasn’t sure how far I made it, or if those shrubs mocked me. “Fuck,” I moaned, feet submerged in thick mud, begrime slithered beneath my toenails.

I stopped suddenly, easing the grip on my dress. From the cracked concrete, a sprouted flower outlives all, its delicate stem and gentle white petals, bringing me peace. I crouched, plucked it from the rubble…

“It’s okay, Alexa.” Kathy sat beside me on the stairs, tucking Teddy into my arms. “I don’t like it when you cry.”

Hair tendrils swept across my face. Tears pooled my eyes at the sound of cruel lashings. Through clear blue skies, the warm sun illuminates our garden, but the brightens relinquished to eternal nightmares.

“Here.” Twirling a daisy between her fingers, Kathy tucks my hair aside and slips the stalk over my ear. “Hope stems from hopelessness, right?” My sister’s always strong and optimistic, but today, sadness hitched her voice.

When our mother’s screaming worsened inside the house, Kathy snatched my hand, interlacing our fingers.

I saw a single tear slip down her cheek and slid it away with my thumb.

Our eyes joined in a moment of understanding.

“Don’t worry, Alexa,” she snivelled, nodding to herself. “I’ll get us out of here someday. We can go far away, travel the world…” Jumping to her feet, she dusted off her palms, outstretched her arms and tilted back her head, marvelling at the sun. “Fly with the birds.”

My mouth formed a circle. “How?”

“Easy.” Gripping my hand, she trudged me forward, our bare feet falling in the grass. “We can do anything if we put our minds to it.”

We barrelled through long spears of grass, giggling and flailing our arms. My mother’s cries dimmed as we drifted, becoming another distant memory.

“Faster, Alexa,” Kathy yelled, sprinting down the hill, dark hair blowing in the wind. “I know you can do it!”

I didn’t want to leave Teddy, but he’s getting too heavy. Panting for breath, I hid him behind a tree, dry leaves crunching under my feet. Standing taller, I glanced back to the house, too sad for our mother. “What about mummy, Kathy?”

My sister’s wet eyes lingered on my face. “She’ll find us.”

I wanted to believe her.

Kathy squatted before me, making us eye-level. “Alexa,” she whispered, knotting the unravelled ribbon at the front of my white dress. “Mum will never forget about you, no matter what happens in life. Do you understand?”

No, but I nodded.

“She loves us very much,” she assured, wiping mascara streaks from her cheeks. “She’s just scared sometimes, okay?”

I puckered my lips. “I think she’s sick.”

“Yeah,” Kathy agreed, giving the house one final once over. “Me too, Alexa. Now,” she bolted ahead, “the last one down the hill is a rotten egg!”

“No fair, Kathy!” I yelled, sprinting behind her. “You always win!”

Laughing hysterically, she whipped straight into the overgrown woodland area, snatched something from the ground and spun to face me. “Want to see something cool?”

Tumbling to a stop, I kicked fallen leaves aside, catching one in my hand. “Yep.”

“Okay, so on the count of three?” She passed me a brown conker. “Throw this in the sky.”

My sister is so weird. “Okay.”

“One, two,” she paused, “three.”

We both hurled our conkers. Mine rolled in the opposite direction, but Kathy’s speared through branches, scattering a bed of leaves.

Frightened birds squawked, feathers ruffling as they dispersed on high. I blinked, slow and fascinated.

We chased them through the dense trees, arriving at the twined exit in time to watch them soar towards the sun. “Where will they go?”

Kathy sighed. “Wherever their wings take them.”

I forgot how we got there.

Tears coated my eyes. “Always trying to protect me.”

Returning to my dark ambience, I studied the starless skies, flower stem swivelling in my pinched fingers—

“Got her,” an unrecognisable male voice barked before a meaty arm went around my throat, ripping my body to his chest. “Let’s go—”

“Get off me!” I screamed, squirming against him.

He towed my kicking body down the passageway, chortling with his accomplice. He’s too strong for a counterattack, so I twisted my fingers around his wrist and sank my teeth into his flesh, gnawing like a rabid dog.

Bellowing, he lunged me across the floor, spitting orders to the other male.

My face grazed the concrete on impact. With no time to consider the blood rivulets on my teeth, I snatched up my dress, obtained the gun from my thigh strap to hit a target—the other attacker kicked it out of reach, sending the clanking metal into the fogs.

“We’re running out of time,” one spat, fisting my hair with brute strength. “Let’s go.” He strived to uplift me, but the blonde hairpiece detached from my head, loosening my untamed dark curls. “What the fuck? You—” A loud crack echoed into the night. His chest lurched forward as a bullet penetrated his back, blood dousing an expanding stain on his shirt. Mouth parting on a sharp inhale, he cut his protruded, glassy eyes, seconds to discern the bullet wound before his knees met the floor, blonde hair slipping through his fingers.

I scuttled backwards on a heaved sob, evading his trundling body. Blood and stagnant water spattered from the force of his weight.

Through momentary impaired vision and dreadful slow motion, I make out a tall male, aiming fire, the second bullet shot ripping into silence.

I hadn’t realised blood caked my face until the man went down on one knee in front of me, using his rough palms to eliminate spatters from my cold skin. “It’s okay,” he said huskily, and I recognised his voice. “You chose the wrong lane, Angel.”

A single tear trickled down my cheek. “Vincent,” I said breathlessly, capturing his wrists, hindering his movements. “What were their intentions?”

His pale blue eyes, emphasised by dark thick eyelashes, pierced mine. “I don’t know.”

Why is he here? How did he find me?

“It won’t change anything.” What’s the desperate need to win over Liam’s acceptance? “Liam—”

“I am not here for him, Angel.” He held my waist and forced me to stand. “I had a feeling you’d get in trouble tonight.”

He scoured our surroundings while I studied his sharp, prominent jawline, full lips and lustrous inky black hair. Although suited, he wears an ankle-length trench coat, casually unbuttoned. “Who are you?” I asked, intrigued by the mysterious man. “How did you know to come here?”

“It doesn’t matter.” With his hand curled around my upper arm, he led me between shrubbed passageways, mouthing numbers with each step. “Right,” he ordered, making a sharp turning. “Your friend had a minor setback, so headed north instead. He’s in the process of locating Brad.”

Dumbfounded, I let this man coax me without reassurance or understanding. “Vincent—”

“In here.” He ducked under an overgrown hedge, located the centre of the maze and alleviated the death grip to my arm. “Don’t leave until he finds you.”

“Who?” I asked, the train of my dress bloodstained and laddered. “Vincent?”

In the middle of the maze, he ceased search, muting an earpiece, glimpsing at his wristwatch. He set a five-minute timer, double-checked each entranceway, mouthing numbers.

My frown tightened. “Vincent, what’s going on?”

He snatched my wrist, wrenched my body behind him and whipped out his firearm. “Get down!” He ordered, and I slipped down his back, cowering behind my forearms.

Ten harrowing seconds silenced the sphere before unremitting gunfire launched. Armed security brandishing semi-automatics emerged from doorways, and my life flashed before my eyes. I shut my eyelids, accepting fate, but the flying shrapnel and gunshots whistling through the air inflated me with hope.

Vincent, in a series of sequential arm movements, controlled two firearms, whipping aim from one corner to the next. Even for someone indisputably trained, the multiplying siege, impossible for one man.

Wafting hunkered smoke from my face, I crawled on my hands and knees, retrieved the gun from his ankle strap and put myself in the firing line.

Plastering our backs together, we extended our arms, covered bases and levelled opponents. In that unnerving instant, I thought we were going to die. I pulled the trigger but didn’t let myself consider the bloodshed or stolen lives. I followed his lead, extracting souls to the memories of Jace’s gruelling training regimes and encouraging beliefs.

At the sound of my gun clicking empty, Vincent bent an arm around my waist and twisted me behind him, shielding me from attack.

Heavy footsteps decreased. In the thrall of Vincent’s protection, I clung to his shirt, feeling the tension in his arm as his muscles coiled, governing the sharpshooting.

Vincent spun us around, targeted an advancing man, and put a bullet between his eyes. “There are too many,” he growled, cocking his gun, slamming a magazine loader inside. “Fuck.” He grasped my hand, helped me oversteps splayed dead bodies and tugged me into a constricted pathway. “I need to get you out of here—” A suited man jumped out in front of us, ready to aim fire. Vincent whacked the gun from the guy’s hand, snapped his wrist, and drove an elbow into his face, knocking him unconscious. “Keep walking.”

In a state of paralysing bewilderment, I examined the overweight man disjointedly comatose in crossing passages, convinced this entire night is a result of too much drinking and hallucinations.

Rechecking the time on his wristwatch, Vincent barrels us through the maze, back to counting steps. He slowed down, increased the volume of his earpiece. “He’s looking for you.”

My eyebrows snapped together. “Are you wired to the syndicate?”

His wolfish smirk quelled my inquisitiveness. “This way,” he instructs, dipping into another bush-laced hole, his heavy-duty boots snapping strewn debris. He stationed himself, pointed front, back, to the side. “South, Alzaim,” he says, but I think he’s talking to himself. Listening carefully, his eyes oscillated, a slight tick to the jaw. “Come with me.”

At this point, I put every ounce of trust I had in this man. I stalked him to the right, the never-ending routes merging into a hypnotising downward spiral. “Vincent…” Gunfire boomed towards the dark skies. “What’s happening?”

He tapped the face of his watch. “I’ll hang back and deal with rats,” he said, parting brambles for me to enter the other side. “No turnings, Angel. Run straight ahead.”

I barely knew him but separating felt immoral. “I don’t want to leave you, Vincent.”

His eyes, the resemblance of blue crystals, deceived his calm demeanour. “A wingman for me, Angel?” he mused, his face inches from mine. “Or the safety of my brother?”

My mouth parted on a hitched inhale.

Vincent’s lips pressed in a flat line. He reached for something above my head, brought a single white rose between us. “You lost the last one.” Frozen in place, I felt the stem weave between my fingers. “Go to him.”

Benumbed and breathless, I squeezed into the hole, leaving him behind. Thorns, twigs and hedgerow tear my arms and face, amassed rocks dig into the soles of my feet.

On a stifled wince, I fell out the other side, landed in a heap on the floor, tearing a gaping hole in my dress. I ran out of the shrouds of dust and all-encompassing greenery, straight ahead, as instructed.

“Liam?” I called in desperation, pulse and blood flow increases to a concerning pressure. I saw a tall figure, and a doting smile stretched my lips. “Liam?” I shouted, and his frantic silhouette stilled.

His satisfied smile mirrored mine as we gravitated. Fisting whatever tulles survived on my dress, I ran into his awaiting arms, knocking a puff of air from his lips.

“Alexa.” His low, ragged voice undid every taut muscle in my body. “I was…” He wavered for a nanosecond, his arms rigid, curling around my body. “I thought something happened to you.” His thumping heartbeat penetrated my ear.

I shook my head, clinging to him with every mustered ounce of strength I had left. “Did you succeed?”

Liam unravelled my arms from his shoulders. “Yes,” he confirmed, and the breath I detained woodshed out. “Special intelligence swarms City Hall, though. We need to get out of here.” He towed me behind him, but my worried eyes revisited the dark maze, praying Vincent escaped the onslaught. “Nate’s hidden a back-up vehicle near the river…” His eyes trailed my visible horizon. “He’s with Brad.”

“Who?” I asked, and his scowl deepened. “What? Oh, Nathan—Jace.” Really, Alexa? “Sorry, it’s been a long night.”

He pinched my chin with a thumb and forefinger, angling my head to his liking. Whispering a kiss to my lips, he gave me one tongue stroke, tasting a night of champagne on my lips. “Do you love me?”

I grinned against his cocky smirk. “You know, I do.”

Liam raised his earpiece volume. “Burn it.”

The floor under my feet vibrated, rattling cluttered debris as a powerful detonation billowed to the sky, spreading a bright glow over our wandering forms. While holding Liam’s hand, I watched deathly explosions claim City Hall, raw embers and scorching flames, licking cracked windows. Fulmination disintegrated the once dominating building, brick by brick, weeping into the wind.

My fingers clenched Liam’s hand. He pulled me to his side, draping an arm over my shoulders.

“You did all this for me.”

Liam helped me scale a waist-high fence, bringing me onto a restricted, uneven footpath. “I did this for us.”

His vague response only heightened interest. “And what’s in store for us?”

“Everything,” he said, fishing out a set of car keys. Unlocking the Bentley, he held open the passenger side door for me to climb inside before rounding the car and collapsing behind the steering wheel. “I should feed you first.”

“I’m not hungry.” God, he’s incorrigible. I can’t face food after everything that’s transpired this evening. “Where are we going?”

Firing the engine, he manoeuvred the steering wheel and drove back onto the main road. “Tell me about your past.”

Was that a trick question? “You know—”

“Not Bajramovic,” he interrupts, accelerating around a sharp corner, running through a red light and speeding through traffic. “Take me back to your house, Alexa. Leave the good memories. Give me the bad ones.” He side-eyed me. “Alexa?”

“Why?” I asked, sinking back in my seat. “What does it matter?”

“It matters.” His hand on the gearstick curled, rupturing his cracked knuckles.

I puffed out a weary breath. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s an excuse,” he snapped, and I shrugged at his blunt assessment. “What happened to your mother?”

I am going to murder him. “You read the damn police reports—”

“No, I want to hear it from the horse’s mouth. You were there. You saw what happened that day. Tell me, from your perspective, how she died.”

“Flamur,” I argued, hands curling into fists. “They argued…” I saw him. He loomed over me, took my hand. “I can’t do this.”

Liam eased his foot on the accelerator. “Can’t or won’t, Alexa?”

My mother’s screams pulverised my ears. “He beat her with a belt.” I mentally opened my bedroom door, carrying Teddy towards the stairs, toes sinking in the thick, cream carpet. “We had lights and tinsel wrapped around the bannister. My mum loved Christmas. Every year, she’d buy this huge tree and decorate it with ridiculous amounts of trinkets.” Fragmented baubles crushed under my feet; broken beads rolled across the floor. “I was too young to understand, Liam.” Kathy’s haunted eyes stared back at me from her bedroom. “My sister knew.”

Liam braked the Bentley and spun into a country lane. “Go on.”

Trees blurred as we drove past.

I crossed my arms, rested my head on the window.

The front door slammed. I rested on my haunches, touched my mother’s bruised arm. Recoiling, she warily peered at me through stiff fingers, and I saw it, the fear in her glossy eyes. “I was supposed to be in bed. It was too early to rise.” I laughed once, recalling how I stayed up to wait for Father Christmas. “She didn’t have time to put the presents out, and that bothered her.” Using the hem of her blouse to wipe the blood from her face, she put me on the sofa, telling me to sleep while she cleaned. “There was nothing left of the tree. It laid across the floor…broken.”

Cutting the engine outside of an unprepossessing warehouse, Liam turned in his seat to face me. I didn’t want to jog down memory lane. I wanted to crawl onto his lap and forget. I did, too, unclasping my seat belt and worming my way into his arms.

He kissed the crease amid my brows, tracing the line of my nose with his finger.

“Why are you bleeding, mummy?”

“No, sweetie.” Emptying her handbag on the floor, spreading the money, keys and cosmetics, she searched for something. “I was silly with makeup. Look.” Unscrewing a lipstick, she smiled at me, rubbing vibrant red over her plump lips, demonstrating with a pout. “See?” I nodded, transfixed by her beauty, even with the purple eyeshadow. “Do you want some?”

I nodded again, shifting closer, making Teddy sit beside me.

“Big smiles,” she said, holding my chin. “Oh, she’s so beautiful.”

Excitement bubbled in my stomach. “Really?”

She gives me a knowing look, colouring my lips red. Misty-eyed and sombre, she studied my mouth, pretending there weren’t tears falling down her cheeks. “What do you think?” Hunting through objects, she picked up a compact mirror, holding it up so that I could see my reflection. “Do you like it?”

My nose wrinkled. “I look like you, silly!”

“Yes,” she agreed, beaming with pride. She pulled me in for a tight hug, laying kisses atop my head. “I love you so much.”

“Mummy?” I nuzzled my head into the groove of her neck. “I love you the entire world.”

Liam opened the car door and set my feet onto the asphalt. He rose from the vehicle. “Alexa?”

I felt a sharp twinge in my stomach. “He was nothing but a disembodied monster I learnt to forget. It was her unfaltering persistence that kept me alive.” He watched me raptly. “I remember everything.”

CH 43

Alexa

He doesn’t see me. In an ideal world, my existence is non-existent. It never happened—I didn’t happen. Had he always felt such resentment and bitterness? What did I do to make him hate me?

I made him a card with his name on it, left it on the mantelpiece alongside his favourite drinks from the fridge. He entered the living room, topless and barefoot, belt buckle hanging from his slackened jeans. Scraggly blond hair irritating his brow, he tears through the envelope and anticipation sparkles in my stomach—he didn’t read the poem. Cracking open a can, he sipped thirstily, bubbles trickling down his chin. Relaying orders to my mother, he curled my letter into a tight fist and cast it aside, stomping past me, straight to the kitchen.

Why don’t you see me, Daddy?

He sees her, though, my sister, Kathy.

Why does he lock the door when entering her bedroom at night?

What’s that helpless look in her eyes?

What is she trying to tell me?

I don’t understand, Kathy.

I don’t know how to make you happy again.

Inside the bathroom, Mummy cleans the wall-mounted mirror, scrubbing tirelessly to remove dirt.

I told her it’s clean; she didn’t believe me.

Spraying bleach onto the sparkling glass, she doused a rag cloth with cold water, scrubbed until her raw, blistered fingers became too sore.

Relaxing in the bath, wiggling my toes beneath the water, I squirted soap onto my palms and cleaned the grass stains from my knees.

She opened the cabinet, chewed a handful of her favourite sweets. I am not allowed to touch those, she warned me, recapping the bottles, storing them high, out of reach.

Rechecking the door was locked, she uprooted a phone from her jeans pocket and tapped the buttons. I don’t know why the phone made you happy, Mummy, though, when you smiled, I smiled, too.

Kathy joined me out in the garden today. She is moody and annoying me. I love my sister; I don’t like that newfound attitude Mummy claimed she stole from those ill-behaved juveniles down the street, though.

When Kathy’s in trouble, although she tells me it’s not my fault, she lashes out at me. It’s me who listens to her complaints and frustrated ranting. It’s me who has to pretend she’s not angry at the world or threatening to run away all the time.

Please don’t leave me, Kathy.

Kathy didn’t come home last night, and our mother said she is worried sick. Roaming around the supermarket, holding a shopping basket, Mummy selects ingredients for dinner tomorrow. She found Kathy’s favourite chocolate cake, wondering aloud if my big sister preferred cream or custard.

I wanted a magazine. It had sticker assortments and colourful makeup stuck to the cover.

Mummy wasn’t paying attention, but that didn’t stop my petulant demands. I stomped my foot, shook the basket on her arm, told her that I wasn’t her friend any more.

What’s that look? I thought, seeing a bashful shade darken her cheeks. Her hand toyed with the bangles on her wrist, something she instinctively does when nervous.

“You look beautiful,” that guy whispered so that I didn’t hear, but I got good ears, Mr Salad bag. And I am incredibly nosey. “Can I see you tonight?”

Why does he want to see her tonight? He’s talking to her right now.

“I don’t know,” she said in a meek voice, aware of her hectic surroundings as she entered another food aisle. “He’s due home this evening.”

Returning the salad bag to the shelf, he adjusted his ball cap, put a hand on Mummy’s lower back. “I worry about you.” His eyes briefly locked with mine. “And your girls.”

“He doesn’t touch them,” she whisper-shouts, and judging by the exasperation in her tone, I sense they argued about this matter before. “Honestly, Tony. I’d never let him hurt my babies.”

“You let him hurt you all the time.”

“It’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Because I am a grown woman,” she retorts, absently shoving an orange juice carton in my hand. “I can handle it.”

Tony, she called him, looked unhappy. He glanced over his shoulder, leaned into my mother and lowered his voice. “You shouldn’t have to handle it, Adaline. You are worth more than an unfaithful marriage and vicious backhanders.”

I don’t recognise those big words.

“Let me love you,” he said quietly, rubbing the chill from her arms. “Come to me, Adaline. Bring your daughters and let’s get the Hell away from here.”

“What about Daddy?” I asked; they didn’t hear me. “I don’t want him to be by himself.”

My mother righted her gold-framed sunglasses, wiping tears from her cheeks. “Why did you leave me, Tony? All this,” she said, balling-up tissue, “could have been us.”

“Please don’t do that,” he cursed, faking a smile for a passing shopper. “I already struggle with regrets, Adaline. You know how much I cared—how I still care for you and the girls.”

I sat on a delivery box of tinned tomatoes, helping myself to a bag of Haribo sweets. Of course, I was too young to identify the lines between Mummy and Tony, but that man, wherever he came from, she seemed to like him a lot.

“Must we trudge there?” he hummed, nudging her with his hip. “I thought we moved past all that nonsense.”

“You’re right.” Relenting, she curled a loose hair behind her ear. “You were so handsome, back when we were young,” she said in a low voice unrecognisable to my ears, and a chewy strawberry cleaved to the roof of my mouth. “You still are, very much so.”

“Ew, gross,” I muttered, nose creasing in disgust. I am so telling Kathy about this.

Tony grinned, fond of Mummy’s weird breathlessness. “Do you remember that time we broke into Mrs Paulette’s backyard to get to the lake?”

“Yes.” Mother giggled a rare, jubilant sound. “You promised me fireflies and caught a moth instead.”

Chuckling throatily, Tony shadowed us into the frozen food section. “If my memory serves me well, our romantic evening under the stars eventuated disastrously.” He pinched her cheek. “You were grumpy for over an hour, and I hated it.”

She stared at him like he grew another head. “You told Paulette I was dying, so she’d feel sorry for us, Tony. I feared she’d call my father and send premature condolences.”

I am so bored.

We reached the checkout lady. I sneakily put the magazine onto the conveyor belt while Mummy and Tony packed shopping bags.

“Eighty-two pound and thirty-five pence,” the cashier said, and Mummy thumbed through her purse, counting loose change. “Ma’am?”

“Two seconds,” Mother spoke, flustered, slipping purple paper in her hand. “I don’t know…” Confusion merged her eyebrows. “I definitely had enough.”

“Adaline,” Tony intervenes, giving the cashier a plastic card. “It’s fine.” His eyes rounded, a play-along type of glare. “We can square up in the car park.”

Rolling her eyes, the plump cashier printed off a receipt, tucked it in a bag and thanked everyone for “shopping with us.”

I skipped towards Mummy’s car, a blue rusted-old-dump, she called it, waiting for her to hurry up.

Tony carries our bags and sets them in the boot, scolding Mummy for trying to give him money. “I don’t want it, Adaline.”

“It’s not your job to take care of us, Tony. I am paying you back.”

For an odd reason, Tony seemed hurt by Mummy’s remark. “It’s like that, huh?”

“No, Tony,” she stuttered, hoisting a handbag strap over one shoulder. “Oh, God. Why must I always mess everything up? I just… It’s his responsibility to fund the children.”

I scuffed a pebble under my shoe, kicked it under the car.

“That worthless piece of shit doesn’t know the meaning of providing. As for the children? How many times have we discussed this? He’s an unfit father—”

“Tony,” she hissed, cupping my ears. “Not in front of Alexa.”

His apologetic eyes fell on me. “She’s not even listening, Adaline.”

He clearly doesn’t know me very well.

“It’s beside the point.” Opening the car door, she helped me climb onto the car seat, tugging a seat belt across me. “Bad mouthing him in front of his children is wrong.”

She closed the door,. I extracted the magazine from behind my back, tore the pink package. When I tried to twist the makeup, nothing happened. It’s plastic, I sulked, chucking it on the backseat.

Although I can’t hear Mummy and Tony talking outside, I watch them bicker from the window. Tony, angry and upset, lifted his ball cap and speared a hand through his dark hair. Mouth moving in a passionate lecture, he argues with Mummy, wildly gesticulating around the car park.

Waving a dismissive hand, she made a lackadaisical attempt to pass him. Tony caught her wrist, wrenched her into his arms, face hiding on her shoulder.

Sobbing inconsolably, she hugged him back, mouthing something unreadable in his ear. He cupped her cheeks and whispered her tears away, forcing her to accept a key. Nodding curtly in response, she leaned in and kissed him diffidently.

I felt a hot tear on my cheek.

Mummy forced herself to leave his side, and when she slid behind the steering wheel and waved goodbye, Tony remained at the front of his car, watching us drive away.

Turning on the seat, I looked out the rear window and slowly fluttered my fingers as his tall frame distanced into a state of nothing. “Who was that man, Mummy?”

From over her shoulder, she glanced at me, returning her framed eyes to the road. “He’s no one, sweetie.”

That night I gazed out of my bedroom, seeing stars twinkle in the sky. Teddy rests on my thighs, a white blanket over him, keeping me company.

I pulled the curtain back. Near the bus stop, a big truck parked-up, headlights beaming down the street. Kathy opened the passenger side door, putting a heeled boot on the ground. Her friend gripped her hand and kissed her fingertips.

My eyes grew big and full of wondrous accusations. I knocked the windowpane, and Kathy’s head jerked up, eyes briefly connecting with mine. Leaving a kiss on the guy’s cheek, she jumped out, sprinted across the road, opened the trash bin by our wall and dumped a carrier bag.

I climbed down the upholstered window seat, sending strewn sequined cushions across the floor, opened the bedroom door and carried Teddy to the stairs.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Daddy screamed, and I hesitated atop the stairs, my stomach cramping. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Is this acceptable, Adaline? What the fuck is she wearing? I bet she doesn’t even have underwear on under that fucking skirt. You rinsed-out harlot—good for nothing whore just like your mother.”

“Dad, please don’t,” Kathy cried, and our mother’s shouting misted my skin in tiny bumps. “Mum—” He silenced her, a loud crack repeating inside my head. “Dad—”

“Fucking running around town with those good for nothing Wesley boys—spreading your whore legs,” he barked, the snap of his belt, lashing across her flesh. “I’ll fucking teach you.”

“Patrick, stop!” Our mother’s frenetic voice urged me to stay in the shadows, to sit on the stairs and wait until it’s over. “Stop hitting her!” Through the tinsel ornamented guard rail, I see Mummy attack him, laying into his back, hard, brutal slaps. “Get off her!”

Crawling across the floor, Kathy slapped a palm on the wall, pulling herself off the floor. She licked the blood from her busted lip and beelines the front door.

With a brutal slap, Daddy hurt Mummy’s face, tossing her to the ground. He powered towards Kathy as she fumbled with the door handle. Fisting her long hair with heartless strength, he heaved her twisting, shrieking body to the stairs.

“Dad, please,” she begged, wriggling in his unrelenting, tight hold. “Dad—”

His hand on her hair tugged, retching a painful howl from her throat. “Stop talking.”

“Don’t touch my sister!” I cried, stamping my feet. With a sudden stop, his angry eyes found me, blood-shot and soulless. “I won’t let you!”

“Alexa go back to bed.” Kathy, suddenly too calm, implored me to leave. “I’m okay,” she lies, tears fresh on her cheeks. “Please.”

Snatching in a harsh breath, Daddy, red-eyed and swearing, threw Kathy down the four steps, seized my nightgown and hoisted me into his arms.

“Mum…” Groaning in pain, Kathy rolled onto her side, and through hooded eyes, she watched Daddy carry me up the stairs. Her pink cheeks turned grey. Screaming words—one’s that made him stiffen—she mustered gallant strength, swaying to her feet. “If you touch her, I’ll tell everyone, dad. I swear to God.”

Mummy, dazed and sweating, floated to the stairs, blood dripping from her temple. “Please don’t hurt my babies,” she whimpered, falling twice as she tried to reach me. “Please don’t, Patrick. Not my babies.”

One angered look we shared before he dropped me. My head clipped the guard rail, and I rubbed the ache away with small fingers. He stomped down the stairs, yelling in my mother’s face, spittle spraying from his gnarled lips. They argued, pushing and shoving, but I worried for Kathy, who sits in the corner, crying on her hiked knees, tugging clumps of dark hair at the roots.

“Fucking worthless.” His vociferous condemnation fell on deaf ears. Nobody listened to his cruel, spiteful rants. He finished a beer, crushed the can and lunged it at my mother, who cowers on the sofa. “I hate my life,” he muttered under his breath, yanking on a coat and headed for the door. “I wish…” The door slammed.

“We need to get out of here, Mum.” Kathy rushed to our mother’s side, striving to console her, but Mummy sobbed too loud. Her agonising screams ached my ears. “We can pack a bag and catch a late-night coach—”

“Not yet,” Mummy hiccups, shirking off Kathy’s hand from her shoulder. “I need time. Your father will calm down. He just had too much to drink.”

“Why do you excuse his behaviour?” Kathy stood and followed Mummy around the living room. “He’s an animal, Mum. It’s not money or alcohol problems. I might be young, but I am not stupid. That disgusting, vile human was born this way. He’s not going to change, not for you or us. Please, Mum. I am begging you.”

“Stop it, Kathy.” Mummy caught a whimper in her hand. “Help me fix the tree so that Father Christmas can deliver Alexa’s presents.”

“Who gives a flying fuck about Christmas!” Kathy seized the evergreen branches and pushed the tree, dismantling trinkets and lights. Baubles rolled across the floor as she heatedly tugged pearl-like beads, snapping them, furious and beside herself. “It means nothing! All this,” she signalled around the room, “means nothing, Mum. Not in our house. Stop pretending that how we live is normal! Nothing about our situation is normal!”

Mummy wanted to help my sister. “Kathy, please—”

“He rapes me!” she cried with bitter scorn, and our mother flinched, staring wide-eyed for an imperceptible pause. “If you can’t leave him for yourself,” she whispered, eyes pleading with Mummy to listen, “then do it for me.” Respiring a shuddered sob, Kathy shouldered past Mummy, swung open the front door and didn’t look back.

Studying the spot where Kathy once stood, Mummy released a howling sound, knees buckling beneath her. Head laid to the floor, scraped her fingernails into the hard, polished wood.

Daddy ruined Christmas.

Kathy runaway.

I didn’t know how to fix us.

Mummy stared out the window until sunrise, distressed over Kathy. Pacing back and forth, she lifted the laced net, surveyed the street. Unscrewing a bottle of clear alcohol, she splashed liquid in her coffee, chewed more sweets: one heap, two heaps, three heaps, four.

Our tree, damaged and unadorned, dominates the corner of the room, sporadic fairy lights adding pretty colours to our darkness.

I sat cross-legged on the sofa, admiring the piled parcels on the coffee table. Metallic golds, reds and greens, Santa’s elves wrapped gifts and finished them with bows, name tags and glitter. “How did they get here?” I asked, but Mummy, vacant and tired, remained at the window. “I didn’t see Santa, yet we stayed up all night.”

Mummy recoiled, patted down her jeans and checked her phone. “Tony.” Accepting the call, she sat in a chair, watching cars pass outside. “I know, Tony.” Her voice broke. Something about that man comforts her. “I already packed. Yes. Yes, it’s ready, so what time shall I meet you?” There was a long pause. “Nine o’clock by the dock. Got it.” She bolted upright. “Oh, thank God.” Another quiet moment. “No, she’s here, Tony. She came back. Yes, yes, yes,” she prattled, laughing at whatever he said. “I love you, too, so much.” I witnessed another rare smile. “I’ll see you then.”

Ending the call, she stuffed the phone in her pocket, opened the front door and captured Kathy for a long, emotional hug.

“I’m sorry, Mum.” Kathy gazed at me over our mother’s shoulder, the emptiness in her eyes did a knotting movement in my stomach. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m getting us away from here,” Mummy spoke in that quiet voice again, thinking I wasn’t listening. “I don’t want to confuse your sister, so let’s enjoy the day for her, okay?”

Kathy nodded, wiping her nose with her jumper sleeve.

“Why don’t you both go apple picking?” Mummy hints, rushing to the kitchen with jerked strides. “I’ll make us a nice pie, babies. We can eat at the table and listen to music. What do you say?”

Kathy slumped onto the sofa beside me, laying her head on my shoulder. “Sure, Mum.”

“Kathy?” Mummy observed my sister, long and hard. “We need to talk later about what you said, okay? We’ll get help—”

“I don’t want help,” Kathy rudely interrupts, holding my hand. “I want to forget.”

“Yes, but…” I sensed that Mummy relinquished because I am here. “Kathy it’s not an avoidable conversation…”

“Can we please enjoy the day, Mum?” Kathy asked, avoiding our mother’s concern. “Tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

“Alright, then.” Giving Kathy one final look, she disappeared into the kitchen, knocking together a stomach-growling cooked dinner.

I changed into a pretty dress and met Kathy in the garden. “Come on, Kathy.” I churlishly scold, dropping apples into the bucket. Mummy said we must fill the entire bucket, or we don’t get any pie.” I collect fallen apples from the grass, rub the waxy layers on my clothes, removing mud.

Kathy lays like an angel on the floor, staring up at the sky. “Alexa, I don’t want to make a pie with mamma. I want to go down the river with all my friends.” She huffed out a bored sigh, throwing a tennis ball in the car, catching it. “Plus, Ben is down there. I wanted to see him.” Lips puckered, she whispered, “I need to say goodbye.”

I wonder if he’s that boy from the truck last night. “Who’s Ben, Kathy?” I drop another apple in the bucket. “Do you like him?”

She rolled onto her stomach, chin balancing on a clenched fist. “Ben is my boyfriend,” she admits, cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. “And he’s super cute, Alexa. Last week, before daddy grounded me, Ben took me to the movies and paid for popcorn. It was the best date ever. And…” she gnawed the corner of her lip, “we kissed.”

I feigned a gasp. “You kissed a boy!”

She pulled an ugly face. “Well, I don’t want to kiss girls, Alexa.”

“I am never doing that.” My nose wrinkled at the sickening image—gross. “Kiss is gross.”

“I am sure you’ll think differently,” she adds mischievously, grinning from ear to ear, “when you meet your Ben.”

“If I meet a boy named Ben, I am running far, far away from here.” Tossing one more apple in the bucket, I quickly counted to be sure there’s enough. “Plus, you can’t have a boyfriend. Daddy won’t like it.”

Compulsion etched across her twisted features. “Don’t you worry too much about what daddy wants and needs, Alexa.” Rising to her feet, she peered over her shoulder. “Anyway, the last one to the house,” she bolted ahead, “is a rotten egg!”

Kathy cheated. I don’t know why I play these games because she doesn’t give me a chance which guarantees her to win.

Before barrelling through the back door, my sister lingered by the concrete step, regarding a parked vehicle across the street.

Bucket handle tight in my hands, I watched Daddy rummage through his car boot, searching and cursing.

“Why is he here?” she asked, but the question wasn’t for me. “Shit.” Opening the back door, she headed inside the house. “Alexa, get inside.”

Daddy tugged on a beanie hat, swapped T-shirts and got comfortable in the driver’s seat. When he peered over, I waved, wondering if he’ll make everything okay again. He shook his head, manoeuvred the steering wheel and accelerated from the curbside.

Why didn’t he look back?

Chapter 44

Liam

Grappling the train of her red dress, Alexa selected a wooden crane and sat down. Her eyes were wet, but she hedged any more tears. “That’s the last time I saw him.”

One hand tucked in my trouser pocket, I jangled loose change, listening intently. “You went inside the house and found your mother on the kitchen floor, dead and covered in blood. You didn’t see anyone hurt Adaline. Back then, from a child’s perspective, your intellect only stretched so far. You recall vibrant colours and certain emotions. You saw red and felt sad. You heard an unfamiliar voice and found an unidentifiable man inside your house.”

Positioning onto one knee, I gripped her jaw, kissed her lips and abated the sadness in her absent eyes. “Why did your father return to the house, Alexa?”

“He didn’t come inside,” she said, unsure of the words she speaks. “Patrick seemed conflicted, Liam. Perhaps he felt guilty for his behaviour that night and considered apologising before leaving. I mean, I wish he’d of entered. He didn’t care much…”

“Alexa,” I whispered, hand massaging the back of her neck. “Why did he switch T-shirts.”

She wore an expression of implacable vexation. “I don’t know, Liam. How can I answer those questions? I told you. The man barely acknowledged me. He didn’t even wish me farewell before driving off.”

“How conceivable is it that he murdered your mother?” I hinted, and her face set in a permanent scowl. “You said it yourself. He resented his life—hated his wife and children.” Her gut cut into me. “Is it possible he entered the property amongst Bajramovic and his men?”

Aghast by my evocation, she stood in an abrupt temper. “What are you implying?”

“Let’s not pretend Paddy Haines was an honourable man, Alexa.” Enough of the mollifying. It’s time to get down to business. “He abused your mother throughout their entire marriage. He beat and molested your sister. That night, if it weren’t for Kathy’s threat, he’d have touched you.” I mirrored her stance, albeit subdued compared to her mounting abhorrence. “Will you consider conceptualisation for my benefit?”

Beyond the rusted, metal walls, Fagan, undergoing brutal torture, extended a wounded scream of tribulation. Ashen-faced but impassive, Alexa paid heed to the shrilling sounds of power tools, lost in her thoughts.

The loathing in her soft, hazel coloured stare reduced when our eyes fixed. Enamoured by me, she returned to my side, bare feet, filthy and sore.

I clicked my earpiece and ordered one of my men to bring in spare clothes from the Bentley, assured that someone had gym and training gear hanging around.

Only a minute transpired before a suited male opened the metal door. Without speaking a word, he gave me a black hooded tracksuit and clean socks, resuming to his post outside.

“Take off the dress,” I said firmly. Alexa faffed, grousing with a slight note of chastisement. Disregarding her confused mithering, I watched the torn layers puff around her feet, tugged the hoodie over her head and drew the bottoms up. “Sit.” When she complies, I lean forward, dust off her feet and roll up socks. “Where are your shoes?”

“I left them at City Hall.” Fagan’s roared beseeching sent a sympathetic flush to her face and neck. “Liam, why did you kidnap The Mayor of London? What does all this have to do with me?

Why doesn’t she see it? “Alexa,” I sighed, rubbing a hand over my tired face. “You escaped Hell. The Missing Haines Sisters’ case broke headlines, right? You had no other siblings or family members to welcome you home. You and Kathy left that police station, together, hand-in-hand to start a new life. Don’t you think it’s odd that your father didn’t crawl out of the woodwork? Despite the fact he regretted his marriage to Adaline, surely, after years of not knowing what happened to his little girls, the man felt some element of regret, grief and remorse? Why didn’t he find you?”

“Patrick never wanted us, Liam.” Acceptance hardened her features. “And that’s okay. I can’t miss something I never had.”

“Your father helped Bajramovic kill your mother.” My arms crossed. “He—”

“Stop it, Liam.” Succumbing to denial, she busied herself, gathering the discarded dress, searching for a place to dump it. “I want to go home.”

“And where might that be, Alexa?”

Stopping short with her back to me, she pondered my question. “Home is where the heart is, right?”

Home is with me, I thought, whispering a kiss to the back of her neck. “Patrick Haines had a predilection for busty blonde women. Throughout his marriage, he had multiple affairs, meeting women in bars to fuck inside his truck. One woman, in particular, caught his attention. He liked the widow. She ticked all the right boxes—born into old money, wealthy and set for life. It started innocently, them sharing hotel rooms and screwing behind your mother’s back. He wanted that life, Alexa. He imagined himself driving those fancy cars and wearing designer suits. It pained him to go home to his nagging wife and demanding children.”

Furious, she faced me. “Stop it.”

“He had a vision. He concluded this idea for months, figuring out ways to start over; however, many concerns rattled that man. What if Adaline fought back? Imagine the catastrophic effect her wife-beater claims might encourage? What if his daughter, Kathy, grew up and wanted justice? Did he have a leg to stand on? Could he evade charges for historical abuse? Think, Alexa,” I barked, and her nostrils flared. “What if the quiet daughter who silently watched in the background rose like a phoenix from the ashes of despair to rain hellfire on his new beginning.”

Alexa, pallid and speechless, shook her head. “No.”

“Do the goddamn maths. To get rid of a problem? You must eliminate it. And that means doing whatever it takes to ensure it stays that way. Adaline, Kathy,” I point at her, “and you were a big fucking problem. That son of a bitch found love and moved on—”

“So, he killed my mother,” she spat, clinging to a fistful of hair. “Well, then, why didn’t he finish the job? What stopped him from killing us, too? Death at his hands beats years of sexual slavery.”

I jerked my chin to the closed-door concealing Larry Fagan. “Why don’t you go and ask him?”

Alexa shot me a double-take. “What?”

“Go head, Alexa. Open the door, face the man who sold his soul to the devil and ask your questions.”

Fagan screamed, but Alexa hadn’t flinched this time. “That’s not my father, Liam.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“It doesn’t look like him for one.”

“Really?” Arching an eyebrow, I dipped my head, putting us eye-level. “And what does Alexa’s father look like?”

She blinked, sucking in a deep breath. “Patrick’s a tall, lean man with blond hair and…” Overwhelmed, she flatted her quivering lips, dropping her head despondently. “He…”

Taking her jaw in my hand, I angled her head, forcing her to look at me. “It’s okay, Alexa.” Swiping a fallen tear from her cheek, I lingered a kiss to her lips. “Your father amalgamated with Flamur Bajramovic to murder his wife and children. Killing Adaline felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders, but when it came to ending the lives of his daughter’s, his moral compass ticked and like a pathetic coward, he ran for the hills, leaving accomplices to finish the job. I don’t know if he regretted the bounty he put on your heads. Either way, it didn’t stop him from driving five hours to his mistress house with only the clothes on his back.”

“To raise another man’s daughter.”

“To use Mrs Bennett’s wealth and high status,” I corrected, but that knowledge didn’t pacify her. “New identity. New lifestyle—a guaranteed office.”

Slipping out of my suit jacket, I laid it on a crane, rolled up my shirt sleeves and headed for the door. I thought she’d follow or call, but instead, she put her back to a concrete beam, slid down and sat on the floor.

Clearing my throat and switching gears, I entered the room, once utilised as storage for shipment packages, closing the door behind me.

Hand in his pockets, foot propped against the monochromatic bricked wall, Josh pushed himself towards me, tossing an unopened cigarette packet. “You good, Boss?”

I popped one in my mouth, lit a match and inhaled smoke. “Is he ready to repent?”

“No.” Josh scratched an itch above his brow. “He denies everything—said we got the wrong guy.”

Bullshit. When I asked Nate to look deeper into Alexa’s background, he found “father unknown” on her birth certificate. The black print intrigued him. It wasn’t challenging to locate the man, though. Adaline married the twisted bastard. What Nate found odd, however, is the lack of police statements from Patrick. Nate concluded it strange that Patrick hadn’t come forward after his wife’s murder. Why hadn’t he joined Newquay search parties to find his daughters? Why had he disappeared off the face of the earth? Perhaps, Nate thought, Patrick also died, but the police never uncovered a body, or maybe, the man was a leading suspect.

Convinced Patrick played a part in Adaline’s demise, Nate studiously combed for missing pieces. Reopened case files, examined police reports, revised notes, dates, time frames, the imagery of gathered evidence, spent hours browsing through security tapes of Newquay’s busiest establishments.

He found one blurred shot of Flamur Bajramovic, enjoying an evening meal inside a cliffside restaurant, overlooking the coastal views. His acquaintance, another male, eating and drinking beers.

It’s not a coincidence. Patrick Haines didn’t select a booth at random or share alcohol with an unknown person. They knew each other. Body language suggested as much.

For Nate, the image substantiated the father’s deplorable involvement. It hadn’t validated his recent location, though.

I stood over Larry’s battered form on the floor. Suit dishevelled, piss soaked and doused in blood, he pleads through swollen, inflamed eyes, praying under his breath.

Brad extracts a knife from Fagan’s thigh, ripped a throaty howl from the man’s throat. “He won’t budge,” said Brad, dabbing sweat dews from his forehead. “Do you want Nate to give him a bash?”

“No.” Crouching beside the dying man, I threaded my fingers together. “Having fun?”

Wheezing a strained cough, Fagan moved onto his side. His struggle, entertaining my men. “Warren, I beg you. I haven’t done anything wrong. I do not know the names of the women that man speaks.”

Brad rolled his eyes theatrically. “What a fucking dimebar.” He slapped a gun on my awaiting hand. “Nobody believes your sob story.”

“The syndicate’s feeling philanthropic,” I said, welding the weapon in Larry’s face. “Tell me what I wish to hear, and I’ll permit suicide rather than maltreatment—” He snatched the gun from my hand, shoving the barrel under his chin. “Careful, Mayor. We can rationally assess the cause for tonight’s hostile purposes without time-consuming melodramatics.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he murmured obtuse words, finger twitching on the trigger. In anticipating amusement, I heard a soft exhale blow from his busted lips before he clamped the trigger—click, click, click—but it ran empty.

“You clearly don’t know me to the extent your presumptuous self conceitedly claimed.” I gave him a soft, taunting smirk. “I like to play with food before I eat it.” Peeling his fingers from the gun, I tossed it aside, the scrape resounding across the floor. “Now that we concluded early death is far too easy of punishment, perhaps you’d like to start talking.”

Fagan regarded every man in the room.

“With the help of influential people, Mrs Bennett offered you a lifeline. Desperate for your devotion, she pulled enough strings to get you away from the wife—a hindrance to her romance as the docile mare wanted you all for herself—which is quite astonishing considering Adaline Haines loathed you,” I said smugly, and fury flared in his eyes. “She detested the man she married and conspired to leave you. Were you aware that she was having an affair with a local?” I pushed his forbearance buttons. “How inadequate did you feel, Paddy? You had to force your wife to fuck you, yet she rode that man willingly.”

“What an ego kill.” Mind-fucking him, Brad slipped a toothpick in his mouth. “Then again, I don’t blame any woman for wanting to fuck elsewhere. What, with that overhanging gut and all—”

“Shut up,” Fagan spat, dribble clinging to his chin. “I don’t know what lies you speak, but I am not that man.”

“You murdered your wife,” I said, impatience vibrating my bones. “Leaving your family behind was too risky, Paddy. You had to tie up loose ends, be sure the rebellious daughter didn’t file molestation charges.”

He’s sickly pale and wordless.

“Pluck them off, you said, am I right? Relieve yourself of those burdens and head to the big city: the nice big house, doting woman on your arm, money in abundance, step-daughter who spends more time at boarding school and summer camps than at home.” Seizing his throat, I curled my fingers, adding painful pressure to his windpipe. “What went through your mind on the long drive? With each passing road camera, capturing your locations, did you feel even an ounce of remorse for your little girls?”

An image of a young Alexa entered my mind. Her melodic giggle and wide, innocent eyes. Her happy, content smile as she ran with her sister.

Gasping for oxygen to inflate his lungs, he snatched my wrist, using brute vigour to dislodge my unmoving hand. “I don’t know who—”

I smacked him in the face, hard, fisted his shirt collar and yanked him upright. We stood toe-to-toe, his stale breath wafting across my nose. “Didn’t it bother you when their faces hit breaking news? Wasn’t you concerned for them, Paddy? No uncovered bodies. No evidence implies their death. Now you have bigger problems. The man you so foolishly brushed palms with had a better idea, right? Once you left, you sick fucking coward, he snatched those two girls and confined them for his inappropriate velleities. You’re an intelligent man, Mayor. What do you think a paedophile does to his victims?” I search his eyes. “Even if you weren’t a father, doesn’t your heart bleed for the lives he ruined? For the girls and their lost childhoods, stolen innocence and never-ending suffering?”

Nate came forward, anticipating the man’s reasoning. He, much like the rest of us, abominates sexual predators.

A trickling sound filled my ears. I lowered my bored gaze, seeing foul-smelling urine pooling from his trouser leg.

“I don’t know what you…” His eyes, saturated with despondent acceptance, drifted over my shoulder.

Alexa joined my side, cheeks blotchy from silent tears.

Hearing Patrick’s admittance sharply became meaningless. Eyes tell many stories and his so happened to sow any seeds of doubts I had.

I released the tight grip on his shirt, casting him off with necessary force. “You will not regard her with imprudent arrogance, old man,” I barked, blood simmering hot. “Get on your fucking knees.” He hesitated. “Now!”

Falling to his knees, The Mayor, although aquiver with fear, never steered his gaze from Alexa. “Alexa.” He saw the little girl he spent years refusing to acknowledge. “It’s not possible,” he whimpered, and she drew in a sharp breath. “You’re dead.”

I gave the men a curt nod, commanding them to leave the room, providing us with a moment.

“I don’t know this man,” Alexa whispered, face constricted as she stared him down. “I don’t know him at all.” When she turned to walk away, I gripped her arm. “Liam, I don’t want to be anywhere near him.” Her weak voice tugged on my heartstrings. “Liam…”

“Kill me,” Paddy said, breaking into the tension. “I knew judgment day would come eventually. All I ask is you spare my girls.”

My anger reached new levels. I am going to—

“What did you say?” Alexa asked, disbelief in her sliced eyes. He ignored her, panting heavily. “I asked you a question.”

Not sparing her a glance, he eyed me, licking blood from his lips. “It’s not their fault, Warren. Don’t hold them accountable for my wrongdoing.”

Alexa made a strangled noise, fingers touching her parted lips. “You vile, inconsiderate monster. I thought…” She looked heavenward, inhaling calming breaths, blinking back unwanted tears. “Did you not love us at all?”

I wasn’t privy to her thoughts, but her sad eyes suggested ambivalence.

He offered silence.

“Why didn’t you leave? You didn’t need to kill her. My mother was a good person.” Putting her back to us, she rubbed tears away. “My mother didn’t deserve to die, Liam. Why didn’t he let her go? If whores and money meant more to him than marriage, then good riddance. We didn’t need him—we never needed him.”

Paddy neglected his daughter’s upset. Cold stare cast to the floor, he groaned, the pain in his lacerated thigh intolerable.

“We were close,” she cried, anguish hitching her voice. “My Mum loved us so much, Liam.” Nodding to herself, she thinned her wobbling lips. “We didn’t need a father. She played all the important roles in our lives, and those are memories I’ll cherish forever.” When she glanced up, I wondered if she sought Adaline’s comfort. “You beat her beautiful face blue.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” Paddy coughed, hacking phlegm in his throat. “I loved Adaline—”

“You lashed her with a belt,” Alexa said with more conviction. I curbed a pleased smirk, glad she’s summoning her inner aggression and indignation. “You were a drunken bully who preyed on a vulnerable woman.” She pinned him head-on, enraged resentment overpowering moroseness. “As if breaking my mother’s soul wasn’t fulfilling enough, you visited my sister’s bed to implement nightmares.

His nostrils flare. He stood, and I allowed it. Alexa needs to be the one to deliver a tribunal of penance. When she squared her stance, I almost took her hand, immobilised myself, gave her room to challenge those capabilities.

Limping to his dominating height, he stared directly at her, unsympathetic and distant.

“Captivity became everyday life. Cruel, merciless, violent beatings—the ones that fractured and broke my bones—became a favourable act as it kept filth from my mouth,” she spat, the vein in her neck pulsing as she swallowed. “I learnt to switch off when he raped me. It was losing my sister that broke me. Kathy was all I had left,” she said woefully, lifting her shoulders. “And I lost her. I lost her to Him.”

He limped backwards, striving for space, but she followed until his back struck the wall. “Bitch,” he hissed, hand unexpectedly snatched her throat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I was on him in a heartbeat. Desert Eagle clicked to his temple. “You mightn’t have cared for this girl, but I worship the ground she walks on. Anyone who harms one fucking hair on her head deals with me.”

She was dejected, a tear cascading down her cheek. He released her, and she snatched a breath, kneading her sore flesh. “For what’s it worth—”

“I don’t care!” Ripping the Eagle from my hand, she cocked and aimed at his head, fierce determination in her eyes. “I just don’t care, Dad.” Pointing to his right leg, she blew his kneecap, and he roared, backside crashing to the floor. “Two.” Diverting to his chest, she blew a second bullet, her body flinching as a powerful force struck back.

Paddy tilted his head back, hand clutching his chest, he begged her forgiveness, blood pooling, gargling at the back of his throat.

Wearing a brave expression, she set the gun to his forehead, closed her eyelids, mouthed something I hadn’t caught, and then released the third bullet from the chamber, penetrating his skull with a reverberating bang—over. In ten seconds, months and months of assiduous investigating and feigned alliances, finalised.

Blood and splatters of Paddy’s exploded nervous system painted the wall crimson. Alexa saw his blown head sag, and a childlike whimper fell from her rounded mouth. She shook the Eagle from her fingers, doubled over at the waist and vomited.

I curled my arms around her body, holding her upright. “Get it up,” I coaxed, brushing hair back from her face, feeling her stomach muscles clenched through vicious cycles. “Good girl.”

“Liam.” Head buried in her hands, she broke into hysteria, trembling in my arms. “I killed my father.”

That makes two of us. Leaning down and capturing Alexa’s legs, I lifted her into my arms and carried her bridal style through the back door, wanting to dodge the amassed men hauled out front.

Beneath dark skies, I conveyed her into the cold night, listening to her muffled sobbing coalescing with thunderous waves crashing against the cliffside.

Scattered pebbles scraped under my shoes, each determined stride, the beginning of a new era. We reached the highest point, and lowered her from my arms, setting her feet to the ground.

Our tranquilising, picturesque views had nothing on her beauty. Heartbroken but breathing with a sense of closure, she stared at the unsettled ocean, losing herself to the turbulent waves and sea air.

“It never ended with you and Kathy,” I tell her, and her eyes drifted to the floor. “Although heinous, Larry Fagan profited immensely from Bajramovic’s human trafficking trade.” Taking the USB stick out of my pocket, I held it between us. “More than five million for his protection. It’s yours. If you want it.”

Alexa studied the USB stick with an inscrutable expression. She took it from my hand, tapping it with her fingers. “Money makes the world go around, Liam.” Bringing her arm back, she hurled the data into the water, a satisfied smile on her beautiful face. “But I don’t want no part of their tainted wealth.”

I brushed my knuckles along her jawline. “I love you, Alexa.” Wrapping her in my embrace, I held her in my protective arms, detecting her relieved exhale. “Always.”

Chapter 45

Alexa

“I don’t know what to call you.”

Jace, stone-faced in his all-black attire, sent me a slanted glance. “Same.”

I pressed the elevator button. “I mean, technically, until Liam meets with the Chief and straightens out Alexa Haines’ fake death, I cannot gallivant around London like a phantasmagorical vision, giving people heart attacks.”

Plus, I had some explaining to do. Grayson and Chloe, for example, will either welcome my safe return with smothering, overemotional and excitable kisses or deliver me a black eye and sentenced banishment for trivialising their importance.

Chloe, specifically, has the right to be angry with me. Without a shadow of a doubt, she grieved her best friend. It’s unjust to hear about Alexa’s return on the news station. I had to soften the blow by resolving conundrums in person.

“It’s safer to call me ‘Vick’, in public, for now, but I’ll speak to Liam tonight so that he can ensure a straightforward and expedient administration of liberation.” Thoughts of rotting in a prison cell made me queasy. “God, can you imagine if the law chucked the rule book at me? I’d die in prison, Nath—Jace.”

He laughed, low and husky. “I think you underestimate your credentials, Vick. You survived far worse than bitchy inmates and unpalatable prison food.”

God, he’s right. Get a grip on life, Alexa.

The elevator doors chimed open. Jace noticed the long line of posted, officiously intimidating Suits and shilly-shallied. Adam’s apple bobbing, he glared at me, bending a scarred, deriding eyebrow.

“Ubiquitous.” Rechecking my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I fixed my olive green coloured dress, the satin material, skin-tight and paired with gold high-heeled shoes. “They’re not here to hurt us, Jace. Those men stand guard to guarantee their Boss’ safety.”

“Yes, but…” He scratched his chin, walking alongside me. “Why the aviators?”

I remove my blonde curls, tuck it under my arm and unravel my dark, untamed waves. “I reckon it’s so people can’t see them nosing.” Confirming my hypothesis, Suit three, who stands by tiered Ficus plant, itched his cinched lips. “Do you guy’s want drinks or anything?” As expected, not one male responded. “Maybe a bite to eat?”

Jace, dumbfounded, stared at the Suits with a what-the-fuck look. “Are they mute?”

“No, I hear them converse when they think no ones around.” I rapt my knuckles on the penthouse door. “It’s either they don’t like me, or they fear Liam will blow a fuse if they speak to me.”

“We like you, Ma’am,” one alerted, and a gloating smile invaded my miffed expression.

“Well, I like you guys, too,” I said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Now, do you fancy a beer?”

“Lower ranks aren’t allowed to drink on the job, Ma’am. Thank you, though.”

That sucks. “I’ll sneak out with some orange juice then.” The front door flew open sharply, and euphonious music spilt into the corridor. “Hey, Brad.”

A bottleneck in hand, Brad pulled a sip of straight Jameson, eyeing Jace, a suspicious glimmer in his whiskey hues. “Boss doesn’t like you, not even after all that help, but he’s feeling generous.” His glare briefly flicked to me. “You can thank Alexa for that. Be on your best behaviour, Jacey boy, or anticipate a pummelling from me, got it?”

Jace assisted the syndicate, and I knew it’d take more than hacktivism to win over Liam’s trust. I don’t like Brad’s rudeness or blatant threat, but it’s only fair I interpret both sides of equivalent detestation. Jace hates Liam and vice versa. Even if Brad warmed-up to Jace, he’d pose dislike for his Boss.

When the syndicate bombarded City Hall last night, Jace got caught up in a crossfire. Our initial plan to meet at the maze fell to shit. He diverted and stumbled upon Brad, who helped my friend fight his way to the finish line. Hell, according to Jace, the pair even joked about women when waiting for the famous black Bentleys to arrive.

Jace, assured of my safety, drove with Brad, who dropped him back to Heather’s bed-and-breakfast before returning to Club 11.

After Liam drove me home, I found Jace waiting for me in the kitchen, too anxious for sleep. Liam hadn’t escorted me indoors, and Jace breathed a sigh of relief, knocked together some beans on toast and sat out in the garden with me. We talked until sunrise, overheard Heather slaving away in the kitchen, conversed with her before finally hitting the sack.

While changing into an oversized T-shirt, something caught my eye. Beneath the double-bed, a white gold chain glimmered. I reached for the red diamond, recalled the heated argument with Liam. Enraged, he lunged an object at me before absconding the building. Overwhelmed and devastated by our upset, I hadn’t checked what slid across the floor. I examined Jace, and then chased Liam outside, pleading for his understanding.

Now, however unsure of what the future promises, I wear a necklace, branded, by the man himself—Liam Warren. Whether it be separation or death do us part, I shall bear my undying love for that man and wear his claim to right with pride.

Muting Brad and Jace, I smiled, rolling the delicate chain between my fingers. Eager to find Liam, I slipped between the rising testosterone, dodged stunning, vivacious women and subdued, tailored men, passed the suited waiters, searching for the only person I cared to see.

Jazz music segued from the entertainment system, and lively guests enjoyed champagne alongside Hors d’oeuvres, bright crescents and stuffed vol-au-vents.

“Champagne, Madame?” A silver tray appeared. “Perhaps a baked-brie bite?”

I shook my head, thanking the gentleman, continuing to the kitchen. Josh, arms folded, leans against the counter, flirting with a voluptuous brunette. I jabbed him in the ribs. “Hey, stranger.”

“Ah, what the fuck?” Josh growled, rubbing his side. “Why the bony fingers?”

I examined my finger. “Why call it bony? Why can’t I have a normal finger like the other women here?”

He snatched my wrist, sucked my finger to the knuckle and gnashed his teeth.

I watched, fascinated and thunderstruck. “Because that’s normal.”

Josh dismissed his lady friend with a flippant hand gesture and pulled me in for a tight hug. “I fucking missed you,” he whispered in my ear, his chin on my head. “This dress…” Groaning his approval, he fingered the hem with investigatory touches. “I like this image.”

He has flirtatious tendencies, but he’s never looked at me inappropriately. It’s all banter, friendly and innocuous.

“I fancied a change.” Still, I brushed red matte across my lips before leaving the bed-and-breakfast, but the satin material and olive shade hugged my figure. Let’s just say I wanted to knock Liam on his ass tonight. “Where’s Liam?”

“On the balcony,” Josh confirmed, holding me tighter. “Don’t go out there. He’s giving Nate a brutal scolding.”

I frowned at that. “Why?”

Josh winced, keeping my back to his chest. “Nate’s gotten attached to the new girl.”

“New girl?” Oh, I liked the sound of that. At least Natalie can get off my case now. “Where is she?”

Pointing over my shoulder, Josh signals to a woman drinking wine by the U-shaped leather sofa. “Blaire.”

I choked on air. “Are you serious?” No, I don’t like thoughts of her sniffing around the men, specifically Liam Warren.

“Yeah.” Scarfing down a handful of salted peanuts, Josh lifted a whiskey glass to his lips. “Blaire’s living with Nate for a bit while he teaches her the ropes. I don’t know her much, to be honest—only what he tells us.”

Our quiet exchange burnt her ears. She glanced over one shoulder, eyes crashing straight into me—her smile, amiable yet unnerving. Perhaps I am jealous of her natural beauty, and that’s why I feel bitter loathing towards the girl who shares my egregious background. Then, why when Nate and his Boss returned to the party, did she look at Liam longingly? If Nate’s the man comforting her in those dark moments, why does she watch the man I love, seeking his affection?

Liam, unaware of my arrival, sat on the coffee table, his back to me, facing the damsel. Nate stands between them, adjusting his gold rings, anxious and perturbed.

My eyebrows pulled down, and a sharp knot coiled inside my stomach.

“Pipe down,” said Josh, flicking my earlobe. “He doesn’t see anyone, Alexa. Trust me.”

I nod, chewing my lower lip. “I don’t appreciate the way she looks at him.”

Josh’s chewing gum pop resounded. “Like she wants to fuck him brainless?”

In all honesty, I will never habituate to the Suits’ vulgarity and intolerable tongues. “Like he’s her lifeline.” Blaire fixed her spaghetti strap, accentuating her ample breasts. If Liam stared at those jutted out assets, I am not privy. “Be careful with her, Josh.” Her gaze attained mine again, and something akin to competitiveness shifted in our optical axis. “We might share demons, but I don’t trust that woman.”

Her fondness fell on Liam, and she placed a hand on his knee. When Liam caught sight of Jace, the muscles in his back corded and his attention shifted, looking around the living quarters. Excusing himself from the conversation, he stood, tapped Nate’s back and disappeared into crowds, hunting for me.

Slipping out of his quotidian leather jacket, Jace set a carrier bag onto the kitchen counter and added shop-bought vodka, gin and whiskey bottles to the donated stockpile. “You good, Josh?”

“What’s happening, Jace?” Josh gave Jace a fist bump, keeping an arm locked around my waist. “Hey, I’m sorry about your little girl, man.”

Jace steeled his jaw, momentary sadness darkening his eyes. “Thanks, Josh. I appreciate it.”

I gripped Jace’s elbow, massaging him with a thumb. He looks at me, a grateful smile on his lips. I love you, I mouthed, and he nodded, sharing my sentiments.

“If it’s any consolation?” Josh mused, gulping whiskey. “Warren tortured that asshole for weeks. Bajramovic suffered.”

Good, I thought, expecting no less than barbarism from Liam and his staunch men.

Jace scratched the furrow between his knitted brows. “Knowing he’s dead comforts me…” But it doesn’t ease the pain, I thought, completing his unfinished sentence. “Nice ink,” he redirected topics, motioning to the skull-piece on Josh’s hand. “How did you take it?”

Josh covered his mouth, flaunting the intricate bone work. “Like a Trojan.” He slapped a palm across my lips. “What do you think, Alexa?” I’d answer if he weren’t smothering my air supply. “Looks good, right?”

I yanked him down by the wrist. “It’s wonderful, Josh. Now quit trying to kill me.”

With a perplexed head shake, Jace poured two vodkas, slid a glass across the marble countertop. “Shot?” he asked, and I declined. “Josh?”

“Pour some ‘bucas.” Josh accepted a clear shot glass and swallowed. “Fuckkk me. That burnt like a motherfucker.”

Relaxing his back to the counter, Jace put the glass to his lips and tilted his head. “Shit,” he winced, face screwing up in distaste. “That wasn’t Sambuca.” He rechecked the label on the bottle. “Fuck.”

My interest piqued. “What is it?”

He gave me a sharp look. “Absinthe.”

“And that’s bad because…?”

“Because…” Josh points for another, “it’s associated with negative psychotropic effects. Basically, it is fucking deadly, and I can’t wait.” He tilts his chin, highlighting a female watcher by the fridge freezer. “You got an admirer.”

Aloof and indifferent, Jace side-eyes the purple-haired woman. Unabashed and brazen, he catalogued her figure-hugging silver dress and sexy shoes that-I-want-to-steal-from-her-feet. “Not my type.”

“Not your type?” Josh repeated disbelievingly. “The chick got big tits. She’s every male’s type.”

I trapped him with a derisive scowl. “And if they don’t?”

His bubblegum ballooned. “Don’t what?”

“Have, you know, busty boobs.”

“Then she better own some mean nipples,” he joshed, and both men burst out laughing. “No offence, Alexa.”

I am seconds away from wiping the cheesy grin off his face.

“Come on, man,” Jace half-heartedly cautions. “Ain’t nothing wrong with her chest—I can assure you.”

His sexual innuendo burnt my cheeks.

“And you’d know that how?” Josh asked, and Jace lifted a noncommittal shoulder. “Oh, damn. You guys bumped uglies.”

“Please stop,” I whispered, knowing Liam would lose his mind if he caught this uncharted conversation. “Jace, that girl seriously wants a taste.”

“I know, right?” Josh, forgetting the past five minutes, jumps straight back to the kittenish female. “She’s proper eye-fucking you.”

Dragging a titanium barbell between his teeth, Jace contemplated her, eyes itemising. He blew out a beaten sigh, incapable of mustering the energy to pursue her. “Maybe later.”

“Unlike you, Josh,” I jabbed Josh’s stomach with an elbow, “Jace isn’t a manwhore who daydreams about pussy all day.”

Josh smirked knowingly. “No, Jace loves eating pussy,” he said, and my friend feigned an eye-roll. “He’s respecting your ears. I bet if you weren’t here? He’d be balls-deep in that cleaver.”

At Josh’s affirmative assessment, I telepathically asked Jace if the incorrigible Suit spoke with validation. Jace, flush-cheeked and uncomfortable under my scrutiny, evaded, clearing an itch from his throat.

“I need a piss,” Josh exclaims, slapping a kiss to my cheek. “I’ll find you guys in a bit.”

I wait until he’s gone. “Is that true?”

“What?” Jace played unawareness. “Ignore Josh. He’s drunk.”I busied myself, pouring us vodka. “Do you feel obliged to act differently with me around?”

Jace fixed all his attention on me. “It’s been us for months,” he husked out. “I don’t know how to separate myself from you.”

My head tipped in contemplation. “Romantically?”

“In general.” He stood awkwardly beside me. “Don’t you feel the same?”

“I don’t know life without you.” I lifted a pinkie. “Ride or die.”

Jace weaved our fingers. “One and the same.” His hand captured mine, thumb sweeping across my knuckles. “How do we say goodbye?”

My heart froze. I didn’t want to part ways. “Why finish something that works?”

“How does it work, though?” His tight eyes softened. “It’s unconventional, right?”

“Forgetting the one time we…” Had sex, I thought, handing him a refill. “It’s been platonic, Jace. I mean, I don’t know how it feels to have a brother, but I imagine he’d be like you. So families spend a lot of time together, and that’s normal…” He’s become my best friend. “Can we not care about the opinions of others? As for female attention? No judgments or concerns from me. I already told you: as long as they treat you right, I am forever a supportive wing-woman.”

Acting on instinct, Jace curled an arm around me, soothed by my closeness. Head rested on his head, I listened to his steady heartbeat, sharing a silent moment.

“I love you, Alexa,” he said for only me to hear.

My real name whispered from his lips, warmed my insides. “Likewise.” He let me unravel from his muscular arms. “Vodka shot?”

Laughing huskily, Jace splashed alcohol into glasses. “I don’t understand the need for vodka shots. We drink it neat anyway.”

I suppose. “Bottoms up.” Tasting buck courage on my tongue, I swallowed a burning dose, exhaling a soothed breath. “I need to find Liam. Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Sure.” He walked with me until reaching the seating area. “Find me later.”

Assured Jace’s comfortable, I strolled down the intersecting halls, my high-heeled shoes clicking against the marble floor. Keen conversationalists glued to the walls, imbibing bubbles, the males, complimenting females, hoping it’ll land them a lay tonight.

I tried the door handle to the master bedroom, but it’s locked from the other side. Lifting a closed fist to knock, I hesitated, detecting Liam’s rough, baritone voice, commanding and brusque.

Not wanting to interrupt his phone call, I pushed myself away from the door, turned the corner and scoured for an unoccupied guest room. Closing the door, keeping the lights low, I chucked my purse onto a velvet wing back chair, ignored the female mewls next door and stationed myself by the window.

The views of London from on high never fail to amaze me. I loved watching the intermittent bright colours, excitable tourists and night wanderers.

Palm flat to the windowpane, I breathed in, held it, felt the soft brush of his lips to my neck. “Liam?” I whispered, and a husked sound vibrated in his chest. “I looked for you.”

He put his back to the window, me in his sights, hand knocking ice blocks in crystal glass. Sipping a generous amount, ice-blue eyes on me, he tasted chilled whiskey, savoured its elegant flavours. “Do you want some?”

I shook my head, and he set the glass onto the vanity table, hands slipping in his trouser pockets. “You look good,” I said. He wears a gunmetal grey two-piece and black shirt, collar buttons loose, revealing a silver of his chest.

His ever-present smirk widened a fraction. “All for you, baby.”

The intensity of his stare palpitated my heart. “What’s the celebration?” Brad called Heather’s this morning, inviting me to his Boss’ penthouse for celebratory drinks. I had not, however, anticipated a full-house or an extension for Jace. “And why not Club 11?”

“Change of scenery,” Liam said evasively. “The men work long, industrious hours. From time to time, they warrant a night off to unwind, drink and fuck some bitches—” He considered for a second. “Unhurried intercourse.” Attenuating discourteous mannerisms for my benefit, he alleviated an itch from his nose, dilated eyes giving me a long, unhurried once-over. “Nice dress.”

“Oh, this old thing?” I hummed, teasing the hem with my fingers.

Keeping a shoulder to the window, facing me head-on, he ran the pad of his finger up my thigh. “Lace?” he mused, but I didn’t respond. “Was all this for me, Alexa?” Hand disappearing under my dress, he cupped my sex, finger slipping between my soaked cleft. “Why do you test my self-restraint?” When he lifted his hand to my mouth, I parted my lips and sucked my arousal from his fingers. “Good girl.”

Opening the vanity drawer, Liam combed through unused purchases, spares for guests, found what he’s looking for and towered before me. Gathering my hair atop my head, he snapped a bobble in place, loosened delicate tendrils by my ears. “Beautiful,” he whispered, eyes on me as he lost his suit jacket, hurling it on the chair.

Beginning with his shirt sleeves, he unbuttoned, hand popping the ones leading south. It slipped from his well-built shoulders, and my mouth salivated at the sight of him. I reached out and touched him with a trace of covetousness, admiring his prominent abs and muscular chest. Within five minutes, this fine specimen of a man soared completely naked, erect yet composed, all while I stood fully clothed and unsettled.

Liam put himself on one knee, collected the material of my dress, held it to my waistline. Eye-level with my sex, he inched in, inhaled the scent between my thighs and tasted me, tongue flat, warm as it teased.

Inhaling a harsh, stuttered breath, I set my back to the window, knees almost giving way. “Liam,” I choked back a moan, my fingers tousling in his hair.

Using his thumbs, he separated my lips, buried himself, suckled and tasted, not a sensitive spot left untouched. He twirled and nibbled my needy core, tongue coaxing from hole to clit.

Oversensitive, I tried to push his head away, but the determined asshole sucked harder, hooked my legs over his shoulders, rough hands pressed to my stomach, supporting my weight.

His enamoured eyes greeted mine, watching me watch him. Grunts of pleasure vibrated on my swollen bud as he sucked me into his mouth, adding just enough pressure to pull a broken scream from me.

Satisfied by my pleasure, Liam put my feet back on the floor, rose to his full height, his one hand to the window beside my head as he stroked himself from root to tip. Dipping his head, he whispered a kiss to my lips, flicked his tongue in my mouth, wanting me to taste myself. And I did, sucking on his tongue, my hands hugging his shoulders as he engorged his thick length.

“I want that mouth on me,” he rasped, sinking his teeth in my shoulder, painful yet impassioned. He tore the straps of my dress down, revealed my breasts and cupped one in a bruising grip. “Get on your knees.” I went to take my dress off, but he stopped me. “Keep it on.”

Nodding in a state of stupor, I sank to my knees, splayed my fingers over his thighs, and his muscles bunched up from contact. Releasing his vice-like grasp to his shaft, he let it drop heavily before me, his hands flattening to the window, head lowering to watch me engulf him.

Before I could perform, he palmed my cheek, thumb entering my mouth, pressed firmly on my tongue. Eyes lust-filled and heavy, I sucked him, kissed and nestled into his hand.

“Do you love me, baby?” His throaty voice was shiver-inducing.

“Yes,” I breathed, enthralled by his unmasked, all-embracing reverence and devotion. “It’s unbreakable, Liam.” My face level with his cock, I let my mouth slide over him, sucking onto his swollen crest, tongue stroking the underside, attentive to each throbbing vein.

When I took him deep, his head fell back on a guttural moan, every muscle in his body, tight and misted. Holding the back of my neck, he eased in a bit, enough to drip pre-cum down my throat.

His shaft swelled in my mouth, and I moaned around him. My eyes were hot, never leaving him. Each throaty moan of approval made me squirm, thighs welded together, easing the ache.

Noticing my discomfort, Liam pulled back, his cock sliding from my mouth. “Stand,” he ordered, and I obeyed. “Face the window.”

Interlacing our hands together, he raised my arms above my head, kissing the crevice between my shoulder blades. “Do you need something, baby?”

I wanted him, but I worried someone might catch us. “Is the door locked?”

“You presume I’d leave it open for anyone to walk in and see you?” he said in a thick, erotic voice, his hard length pressed against my derrière. “Nobody dares to look at what belongs to me.” He tugged open the dresser drawer, found a foil packet and tore it with his teeth. “Not now.” Snapping the condom in place, he sheathed and lined himself at my entrance. “Not ever.” He entered me with one harsh thrust, and my head fell to his shoulder, a strained whimper escaping my lips. “Understand?”

I turned my head, facing him. “Yes.”

Liam released his grip on my fingers, but I daren’t free my hands from the window; it’s where he wanted them. He snatched my waist, pulled me to him, right to the base and drove into a thrusting pace. He fucked hard, each stroke of his cock, arching my spine.

Grappling my gathered dress in one hand, he held on, his other arm dipping between my legs, fingers circling, strumming my pulsing numb, pinching as an orgasm slammed into me, too powerful to stand upright. “Liam,” I cried, goosebumps puckering my flushed skin. “Oh, shit.”

“I want another one.” He sucked the tender spot beneath my ear, mouth touring to my shoulder—another painful suck, one that’ll bruise, for sure. “Baby.” He eased out, and I whimpered at the loss of him—until my back met the glass, legs wrenched around his waist, his cock burying to the hilt. “Tell me.”

Initially, while he hammered at a vicious pace, I hadn’t understood his vagueness. And then his unspoken vulnerability registered.

Entrapped in the thrall of his arms, I wrapped myself around him, the heels of my shoes pinching his driving backside. “I belong to you,” I breathed into his mouth, shifting my hips. “Only you.”

His hips rolled, and he filled me, setting my skin on fire. He worked me faster, deeper, harder. I savoured the feel of him and blocked out every dark memory, all-consumed by this man and what insatiable effect he has on me.

“Liam, I’m close.” I enveloped his shoulders and met his long thrusts.

He held my bowed spine and sank his head to my heaving chest, breathing hot on my pebbled nipple. I knew he was close because his groans came in harsher, gravelled.

With us still connected, he carried me to the bed and fell over me. Shoving his knees under my thighs, he widened my legs to accommodate him, tearing an agonising moan from me.

Hands holding my head, he lifted his hips and drove so deep my trembling legs slackened. “Liam, I’m—” I came, orgasm claiming my body in a moment of sheer ecstasy. He quickened his movements, chasing his release, but the brutal feeling of his cock pounding in and out became unbearable. “Liam,” I moaned, tearing my fingernails down his spine, urging him to slow down.

He hissed through gritted teeth and smashed his lips to mine, kissing me breathless. “Fucking hell,” he spat out a rough growl, gripping my hips and pinning me beneath him as wedged into me. “Fuck, you’re making me cum.” His back tensed, cords of muscle rippling in his arms. “Fuck.” He jerked and throbbed as he emptied himself, respiring a shivered breath into the groove of my neck.

I kissed him, clenching around him, draining him, legs curling around his waist, to hold him in. “I love you, too.”

Liam was all smiles as he licked the seam of my mouth, seeking my tongue for a raw, passionate kiss. “I should feed you.”

“You just did,” I teased, thumbing sweat from brow, “gloriously.”

“I meant food, Alexa.” He stared deadpan at me. “Not my cock.”

“I could live on your cock.”

His eyebrows jerked to his hairline. “Mentally documented for future reference,” he half-joked. He brushed a feather-light kiss to my jaw, an unreadable expression twisting his harsh features. I sensed he wanted to say or ask something but chose to address it another time. “Come on.” He eased out and helped me stand. “Fix yourself.”

Leaving me to discard his condom, he busied himself in the bathroom while I righted my dress, covering my breasts.

Liam returned with a damp hand towel. “I’ll never tire of you, Alexa.” He pressed the cloth to my sore heat, soothing and eliminating evidence of our time together.

Satisfied, he chucked the towel straight in the bin, fixed his hair and redressed, keeping the top buttons of his shirt loosened.

Unlocking the bedroom door, he held it open for me to pass. I automatically clutched his hand and laced our fingers, walking alongside him, bypassing amassed party guests. I hadn’t noticed at first. Even though the music played, and conversations continued, I suddenly sensed too many eyes on us.

Liam did, too, stopping by the leather U-shaped sofa, his arm instinctively bending around my middle section.

Their innocent stares, although harmless, peeved Liam. It wasn’t his most trusted men eyeing me from head to toe, but unidentifiable people I had never met before. Perhaps it’s because they recognised me as Alexa and it flummoxed them, or maybe, it’s because a woman consumes Liam Warren’s attention and that revolution rendered them speechless.

“What the fuck is everyone staring at?” Liam snapped, and my eyes widened in horror. “You all got something you want to say?”

“Liam,” I hissed, fisting his shirt. “Don’t embarrass me.” When his contemptuous glare intensified, I snatched his chin and forced him to look at me. “It’s called curiosity. Do not reprimand people for wondering—”

“Wondering what?” he asked, raising his authoritative voice. “It’s none of their goddamn business. If seeing a woman on my arm puts their noses out of joint, then they can back-the-fuck-up. You, Alexa Haines, are here to stay—with me.” Holding my hand, he collapsed on the sofa, tugging my wilting body onto his lap. “You are my woman. If they don’t like it? They can get the fuck out of my penthouse.”

Brad, licking a toothpick to the corner of his lips, sank on the chair beside his boss. “Alexa.” He winked, giving me a lopsided smirk. “You look well and truly fucked.”

“I am well and truly fucking humiliated.” I flung a finger towards Liam. “Why be a caveman?”

Liam stifled merriment. “You look flushed.”

“I am,” I stressed the obvious.

“Alexa, everyone diverted their attention the second Warren raised his voice, so quit fretting.” Brad handed Liam a half-smoked joint. “He’s playing with you.”

At Brad’s assessment, I looked at Liam and, for the first time since knowing this man, I saw a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. His playfulness was a rare moment; one you seldom get the opportunity to witness. Instead of continuing the conversation, I propped an elbow on the sofa rear, welcomed his hand absently smoothing my leg as he smoked and listened to the men talk business—foolishly paying no attention to whoever just slammed that front door behind them.

Chapter 46

Alexa

It was still dark when I woke with a start. Heavy dread pooled in my stomach for those unquenched Suits. I am such an awful hostess. I promised orange juice and forgot to deliver.

Bolting upright, whipping unruly hair from my face, I ripped the blanket aside, hearing Liam’s sleepy groan as I shifted on the bed. I blindly searched for a discarded T-shirt on the floor, dressed amidst haphazardness, brushed my teeth in the en-suite bathroom, and then quietly crept out of the master bedroom.

Bare feet teetering across the cold marble floor, I rushed to the kitchen, which bore the semblance of student accommodation after a hellacious party: empty alcohol bottles on the counters, half-eaten food on the table, dispensed drugs and a surplus supply of condom packets. Opening the fridge, I selected a medley of flavoursome juices, poured a variety into glasses and arranged them on a tray.

Leftover appetisers cluttered the counters. I cleared a space on the stonework island, scrubbed alcohol stains with disinfectant and hunted the cupboards for edible pastries. I found a loaf of bread, checked the date first, and popped slices into the toaster. I am not the best cook, far from it, but buttery toast, jam and marmalade, packaged croissants and microwaved breakfast tartlets, I executed.

I opened the balcony doors to generate a cool breeze. Hopefully, the morning air can eliminate bad odours. I mean, what is that awful smell? A mixture of old man’s flatulence, fetid sweat, rubber latex, lube and other body fluids.

My nose twitched in repugnance. I used a fork to lift the lace thong dangling from the coffee machine and tossed it straight in the bin. The penthouse’s current state of sordidness was the Suits’ delineation of drunken orgies and an overindulgence in drugs and alcohol.

Pouring myself a coffee, I added a splash of milk and inspected the aftermath of last night’s carnage. It wasn’t a wild night, even though the penthouse’s diabolical state suggested otherwise, but the purpose of Liam’s celebration still puzzled me. He is comfortable in the public eye, so it’s quite normal for him to be within the assemblage of acquaintances or close friends. However, it is unusual for him to invite people to his private home.

I sipped coffee with permanent furrowed eyebrows.

What are you up to, Mr Warren?

The toaster popped. I stockpiled the plates with toast, organised the Suits’ breakfast onto a tray and carried edible deliciousness to the lobby.

“Morning,” I chimed, using my back to hold the door open. “I did not forget about you.” The besuited, stoic men stared at me. “Well, come and eat.”

Exchanging puzzled glances, the men briefly abandoned their posts and thanked me for the cold drinks.

“Can one of you grab the other tray inside the kitchen?” I asked, and a lean male slipped into the penthouse, as instructed. “Take as much as you want. You can grab a coffee, too.”

The tray lightened as they plucked off orange juice and buttered toast slices. They individually entered the penthouse to pour beverages and balance pastries in their mouths.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” one said, and the others mumbled gratitude.

“Do you want anything else before I close the door?” I mused, and they shook their heads. “Are you sure?” They seemed uncomfortable with my nearness. “Okay. Well, if you change your mind, knock the door and ask for me.”

Leaving them to finish breakfast, I returned to the kitchen and cleared the counters to eliminate any evidence from yesterday’s partying.

Satisfied with my cleaning skills, I tied-up rubbish-filled bin liners and asked two men if they could discard them. Without fuss or complaints, they hurled recycling downstairs, ready for the refuse collectors.

Dusting off my hands, inhaling the pleasant scent of lemon air freshener, I stalked the interconnecting halls, on the prowl for Jace.

Staggeringly inebriated and stoned to the point of red-eyed bewilderment, Jace agreed to spend the night, and Liam, to appease me, grudgingly tossed my friend keys to a guest room farthest from the master suite.

On my travels, I find a comatose Josh in the bathroom. I knelt beside his outstretched body on the floor, spurning the unsightly display. His trousers were unbuttoned, slacked and bunched-up around the ankles. His backside was bare for the world. “Seriously, Josh. Who drinks themselves stupid and falls asleep half-naked on the bathroom floor?”

Josh’s lips twisted into a puckered grimace. Red-brimmed eyes cracking open, he rubbed his wearisome face, rolled onto his back and, hanging limply between his bunched up thighs, an uncovered manhood.

My eyes rounded in utter shock. I snatched a towel from the cast iron radiator to cover his morning glory. “I didn’t see anything,” I lied—the bastard’s hung like a slongdaconda. “What the hell, Josh? Did you fall while relieving your bladder?”

“Alexa.” His pale face exemplifed a dying patient. “Please, tell me, we didn’t.”

“God, no.” I scoffed, and he took umbrage to the overt disapproval. “Sorry that came out wrong.” I whittled down in a nanosecond. “It’s not that I wouldn’t because I would…” No, I’d never touch Josh, not sexually. “Shit, what I meant…” Keep digging a bigger hole, Alexa. “I’m with Liam, remember? You are beautiful…” His response was a shit-eating grin. “Alright, lothario. Don’t let flattery inflate your ego.”

He reached up to cup my jaw. “I like that you think I am sexy, Alexa. It soothes my hangover.”

I never said Josh was sexy. He’s not lying, though. He is a gorgeous, handsome man with warm, chocolate brown hair and a carved jawline. He had full, soft-looking lips, a naughty yet boy-like smile and, together with his incredible image, the kind of personality that guaranteed lifelong friendships wherever he travelled. And, of course, an abundance of female admirers.

“If we don’t get these cacks up?” My eyebrow curved. “Liam is going to think we—”

“Fuck.” He whooshed into a sitting position and regretted it, slapping a palm to his forehead. “I think I died.”

“No, but you certainly drank too much.” I picked up the small, clear bag on the floor. “You might want to lay off the drugs.” A barrage of questions pelted me. “Is this a one-off, or are you partial to frequent cocaine abuse?”

“Am I under interrogation?” He lost the towel, placed two hands over his swinging shlong and made a lazy effort to tuck himself away. “You do realise the boss–the man you date—distributes gear for the men, so don’t judge me, not unless you want to chide him in the process.”

“I am not judging you.” Although, I do hate his recent vicissitudes of criminality. He’s one of the good guys, inherently chivalrous, courteous, respectful and considerate. Why should he reinvent himself to conform to the syndicate rules?

Josh, fully dressed yet disordered, examined his wrist and sucked in a bracing breath. “That bitch stole my watch.”

My eyes bounced from his wrist to his face. “Who stole your watch?”

“One of those women from last night,” he said angrily. “I knew she was too invested. Fucking money grabber.”

Judging by his furious expression, he must have lost an extortionately priced item of jewellery. “Rolex?”

“Vacheron Constantin.” He tsked me, fixing his cufflinks. “A gift from Brad.”

“Yes, well, if you didn’t allow yourself to get in a stupid state of intoxication, a stolen wristwatch could have been avoided,” I educated him smugly. “Are the other’s about?”

“No idea.” Swinging open the bathroom door, he gestured for me to exit first. “I’ll check the guestrooms. I think Nate left early with Blaire. Knowing Brad, though, he’s probably hauled-up in a room somewhere with women—plural. Just saying.”

Thanks for that knowledge, Josh. “With the array of women he sleeps with, that man’s pending gruesome knob-rot. It stuns me that his member hasn’t fallen off already.” Suppressing a shudder, I watched Josh with a grin. “And you, close behind, of course.”

“Of course,” he mimicked, playfully shoving me ahead. “Fuck off. Your jibber-jabber worsens my headache.”

I gave him an eye-roll, left him to feel sorry for himself and skulked the grandeur halls. I knocked my fist on Jace’s door and rudely invited myself—to front row tickets of inked legs with hunkered purple hair between them.

“Oh, shit.” Eyes snapping back in their sockets, I fumbled to shut the door, hearing him spit a curse on the other side. “It’s okay, Jace. You keep doing that thing you are doing…” Enjoying a blow job from the evangelical woman. “I can—” The door reopened, whipping hair over my shoulders. “Hello.”

Jace, the towering, glorious wall of inked, well, gloriousness, used a hand to hide the muscle swinging between his legs. His companion, Miss Nameless, falls back on her haunches on the bed, wiping his…stuff from her lips.

“Is she your bitch or something?” she asked, and I envisioned strangling her. “Why are you two always floundering around each other?”

Jace scoffed, mouth opening to defend—what are we defending? We don’t have to justify ourselves to her. “Did you enjoy yourself?” I asked, and his brows merged. “If you didn’t finish, I’ll wait outside and then come back and skull drag the mutt—”

“Excuse me?” she barked, staggering to her feet on the bed. “Speak for yourself, bitch. You don’t want to try me.”

“Really?” I clenched my fists, fingernails stabbing my palms. “You might want to drop the claws.” Jace, gripping my T-shirt, blocks me from entering the room. “I bite.”

“Shit.” Jace rubbed his tired eyes. “Get out,” he ordered, and her face turned ashen white. “Come on. I ain’t got all day.”

I stifled self-satisfaction, itching the scar under my eye.

“Jace?” she whispered in disbelief, watching him collect cast-offs on the chesterfield suite. “Fine. Whatever.” Her dislike drilled into me, but I ignored her unspoken scorn, studying my fingernails with a bored expression. “Bitch,” she muttered, yanking on a skin-tight dress, shouldering past me, a deliberate impale. “Watch your back.”

“Watch yours,” I advised, and she halted pace to glare at me. “I am personally barring you from returning to Liam’s penthouse, and this resolute warning applies for all his businesses. If you have a problem with that, by all means, speak to him and overturn my ruling; however, I should warn you, Liam, my partner, might take offence to you bad-mouthing me and make an example out of you.”

I had paralysed her into discombobulation.

Without another word, I shut the bedroom door in her face.

With a weary yawn, Jace stretched his arms above his head and fell back on the bed. “You can calm down now.”

“I am calm.” That’s a crock of shit. My body hasn’t stopped shaking since Miss Nameless called me a bitch. “Why did she attack my jugular like that?” I hadn’t meant to disturb their playtime. “I seem to have a face that offends people.”

Jace propped onto his elbows, his hand tapping the spot beside him.

I was a little disgruntled by his lack of concern. Nonetheless, I huffed out a resigned breath and star-fished the bed.

“Your face doesn’t offend people.” Repositioning onto his side, he swept hair strands from my face and drew invisible images of my back. “She was jealous.”

“Jealous?” I snorted, snuggling closer. “It wasn’t me who had you by the balls, Jace. That woman quite literally had your cock in her slurping mouth.”

He snickered as I glanced irritably at him. “What?”

“She covered you in hickies,” I mumbled, finger playing connect-the-dots on his inked neck. “Do you fancy a lazy day?”

“What about Warren?”

Liam will leave for work soon, I imagine. “We can take the Underground, and grab a Nando’s en-route.”

“I could smash a Nando’s.” His eyes rolled back in heavenly thought. “Lots of hot sauce.”

“Same.” Rubbing his chest, patting, I sat up, feet meeting the floor. “Stop yawning, Jace. It’s contagious.”

Stuffing an arm under the pillow, he nestled into the duvet. “Wake me up in an hour.”

I shot him a sharp look. “I thought you wanted Nando’s.”

“I do,” he croaked, complaining pointlessly to himself. “Once Warren lets you leave.”

“You are such a drama queen.” I jolted the bedroom door open, faltering at the threshold. “Liam’s out like a light bulb. I think he might be hungover.”

Jace snorted and turned his somnolent stare to me. “That man’s alcohol tolerance puts my masculinity to shame.”

My eyebrows danced playfully. “Do you think he’s a functioning alcoholic?”

“No, I think he’s a quintessential crime lord. He’d never undervalue or underestimate a situation with careless susceptibility. For Warren, drinking quenches hunger, not thirst.” He settled back to the pillow. “Try and remember that.”

His crapulous blathering fell on deaf ears. I closed the door and hastened pace, hearing Brad and Josh arguing from the living quarter.

I tried to evade them.

“Alexa,” Brad called, and I paused. “Did you just sneak out of Jace’s boudoir?”

Josh collapsed on the sofa beside my favourite Suite. “Quit shit-stirring,” he admonished, blowing over the surface of the coffee mug. “We fuck our way through different beds, so why can’t she?”

“I am not…” Keeping my dignity in check, I folded my arms. “Nice, Josh. Really smooth.”

He wore a toothy grin. “You are most welcome, Babe.”

My cheeks reddened. “Babe is a pig.”

Brad grabbed the smouldering joint from the ceramic ashtray. “Does Warren know his Buttercup prowls the halls?”

“Yeah?” Josh’s feet kicked onto the coffee table. “You should be careful. You don’t want to aggravate the boss, do you, Sunshine?”

“It’d be a ghastly sight.” Brad, the jokester-instigator, respired smoke circles. “Jace garrotted from the ceiling and whatnot. Is that what you want, Boo?”

“Dollface,” I said, and Brad simpered. “Please refrain from using ugly pet names to address me. And you,” I pointed at Josh, “stop laughing, or expect Poohbear to stick.”

“Poohbear.” Brad feigned empathy for his friend. “Ouch.”

Josh shuddered, smacking away Brad’s wiggling fingers. “I stand corrected,” he said, curbing a naughty smirk, “Pumpkin.”

With a dismissive hand, I left the childish men to chortle behind my back and barricaded myself in the master bedroom. Right where I left him, Liam lays face down on the bed, the black sheets tangled between his legs.

Tucking hair behind my ears, I carefully climbed onto the mattress and straddled his lower back. He groaned a sleepy moan, and I smiled, peppering the line of his jaw with kisses.

“Alexa,” he whispered, not opening his eyes.

My arms covered his muscular ones as I laced our fingers. “I like sleepy Liam,” I admitted, and his eyebrows cinched slightly. He smells too divine for someone who hasn’t left the bed. “You smell freshly showered—Liam!” I squealed as he unexpectedly rolled over, keeping me above him. “You are such an asshole. I thought you were asleep.”

He gets comfortable, arms tucked behind his head, staring at me through hooded eyes, bottom lip gripped between his teeth. “Where did you go?”

I rested my palms on his bare chest, fingers tracing the thin, dark line of delicate hair leading to that glorious V-line. “I wanted to make the men breakfast.” Leaning over him, I tugged open the bedside drawer, found a foil packet and tore it with shaky fingers. “Can I have you?”

Liam, understanding what I craved, sat straight, putting his back to the headboard. “Don’t ever ask for my permission, Alexa.” His hand crept under my T-shirt, fingers outlining the feathers on my shoulder blades. “I am yours.”

I tossed the packet aside, found his hard length and sheathed him, loving the feel of him in my hand. Tugging the T-shirt over my head, exposing my breasts, I set one hand on his shoulder and evaded his seeking lips, smiling as he tried to claim me for a kiss. “Give me that mouth,” he growled, his teeth nipping my jaw. “Don’t make me beg.”

Fisting the back of his hair, I grasped the base of his cock, thick and heavy, easing myself onto him, lips stretching painfully to adjust. A low, guttural moan fell from his parted lips before his tongue, soft and tentative, stroked mine. I caught his strained breath, positioned my knees on either side of him and forwarded my hips, feeling him swell inside me.

“Alexa,” he said roughly, his jaw muscles tightening as I slowly rode him. “I want this. You and me, every day.” Grounding down on his teeth, he grabbed my waist and bucked his hips, a short, sharp sequence of steady, meaningful thrusts. “Do you want that?” He dragged my arms behind my back and captured my joint wrists. “I want to wake up to your beautiful face, baby.” With me in his sights, he lowered his head, licked and sucked my nipple, teasing the hard peak. “I want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”

I didn’t get a chance to respond. He abruptly pulled me beneath him, his powerful arms caging me in. I widened my thighs for him to settle, the raw intensity of him dragging his cock in-and-out coaxed a breathless moan from me.

With one hand, he fixed the chain around my neck. “What’s mine is yours, baby,” he said, burying himself deep and settling. “I want you to move in with me.”

I think my brain exploded. “I’m sorry, what?”

His smirk, devilish and captivating. “I don’t like repeating myself, Miss Haines.” I’d answer if his mobile phone weren’t vibrating. “Ignore it—”

Snatching the phone, seeing Hellen’s name flash on the screen, I scowled at him. “This is a bad time to have you inside me.”

Reclaiming the phone, he diverted the call, changed the settings to silent and tossed the pending argument over his shoulder. “Don’t let her ruin us, Alexa.” He fucked and kissed me slowly, growling when someone bashed a fist on the door. “What?”

Will we ever catch a break?

***

Liam

“Don’t let her ruin us, Alexa.” I moved, slow, unhurried, her in my arms, exactly how I like it. “I—what?” I snapped, the muscles in my back, tight and burning.

Brad swings the door open, frantically buttoning up his shirt. I geared up to pummel him, tearing the blanket up to cover Alexa, when, in his defence, his eyes never once veered from my murderous glare.

“You need to get the fuck up, Bossman,” he barked. By detecting the alarm in his voice, I knew to act on instinct, not ask questions. “Bluecoats—everywhere.”

“Fuck.” Unravelling myself from Alexa, ignoring her panicked questions, I rolled off the bed, found the first pair of slacks and yanked them on. “Everything in the bathroom! Now!”

“Liam?” Whiter than white, she rested on her knees, hugging the blanket to her chest. “What’s happening?”

“Get dressed,” I ordered, pacing to the en-suite. “Move it, Alexa!” Shaking her into submission, I blindly fingered the bath ledge, watching her scamper off the bed and change into a black tracksuit. “Hurry up.” Popping the seal, dragging the panel aside, I rushed around the bedroom, collecting firearms, bullets and drugs. “Don’t just stand there. Assist us.”

Alexa jerked back to life, knotted her hair above her head and gathered anything deemed illegal.

Six of my men stormed into the bathroom, alternatively hiding evidence inside the safe, speaking into their earpieces.

“Come on,” I said, irritably impatient. “Move it.”

Brad jogged back into the bedroom, the phone to his ear, spitting commands to Nate. He unzips Alexa’s clutch bag, finds a bobble and knots his hair. “Two minutes,” he tells me, slipping a toothpick between his lips. “Come on, Nate. Break the servers; we need to know what they got.” I heard Nate’s muffled drawl, but whatever he said, failed to mollify Brad’s tense apprehensions. “Be quick.” He killed the call. “What do you think?”

My arms folded. “Fagan.”

Brad gave me a curt nod. “Okay, depending on the evidence, we let a syndicate member take the flack.”

“I’ll do it,” said Josh, standing in the doorway.

“Hell-fucking-no,” Brad retorts, sending the lad an affronted glance. “I am second in command. It’s on me.”

Alexa cut her concerned eyes to me.

“I didn’t become Liam Warren by standing behind my army.” To the sound of violent knocking, I tore on a T-shirt and strode towards the desperate, raised voices. “I earned my title by leading them.” Heart hammering in my chest, I powered down the hallway, gesturing for the loyal men to stand back.

I paused at the front door, clicked and released tension from my neck before facing the mob of officials. “You better have a warrant, motherfuckers. I am not feeling too generous this morning.”

“Issued thirty minutes ago, Warren.” Detective cock sucker slapped an envelope on my chest. “If you refuse to let us in the property, by any means, we can arrest you and your trusted accomplices.” Furrowing his dark brows, he squared up to me, nose-to-nose. “Not so smart now, huh?”

I crushed the envelope in my fist, rage soaring from the depths of my stomach.

The detective smiled, ordering his armed men to overturn the property. They dispersed, meandered through furniture, forgoing cupboards and drawers.

Confused by their lack of thorough search, I secretly eyed Brad. He wears a similar expression, intrigued concern.

Jace chose this raucous, turbulent moment to exit a bedroom. His long strides dwindled, and he stayed back. When his wide eyes drifted past my head, I followed his line of vision. “Wait.” I shoved past my men, hindering the process of them entering the master bedroom. “Is all this necessary? I—”

“Zip it, Warren,” the detective barked in a no-nonsense voice. “You make me think something hides in that room.”

An officer jolted the door open and, in a moment of painful distress, I watched two armed men reach for Alexa, and my stomach sank. “You better not touch her—”

“Alexa Haines.” With additional strength, he shoved her chest to the bed, wrenched her arms behind her back and handcuffed her wrists. “I am arresting you on suspicion of Rohan Wallace’s murder.”

A red veil fell over my eyes, and I snapped. “Get your fucking hands off her!” I spat, ready to intervene when Nate’s bulky arms wrapped around my shoulders. “Nate, get the fuck off me—that’s an order!”

“You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court.” He ripped her into stance, and her glassy eyes crashed into mine. “Anything you do say may be given as evidence. Do you understand?”

I wrestled against Nate, hearing only my raging pulse roaring in my ears. Powerless in his unrelenting hold, I dropped my arm, patted his trouser leg for a gun. I will shoot these motherfuckers—dead. “You fucking cunt!” I growled, and Brad assisted, pinning my chest to the wall. “I’ll kill you—I will kill each and every goddamn one of you!”

Alexa, while being pushed towards the hallway, caught sight of my frisking and shouted my name. Her words travelled to me like a ball splattering over the surface of the water, slow and repetitive. “No.” she mouthed, shaking her head. “Don’t do it, Liam.”

Blinking back disordered confusion, I let my arms sag, succumbing to defeat, grappling for a calming breath before I rip the Glock from Brad and raise Hell on these bitches.

The officer led Alexa right past me, and my thumping hearing lessened. Nate eased his arms a touch, and I reached out, snatched her jaw and let the men quickly intercede, giving me ten seconds. They squared up to the irate, yelling officers, creating an Indomitable shield around us.

“Alexa, you say nothing,” I whispered against her lips, and her terror-stricken expression crushed my goddamn heart. “You keep this beautiful mouth shut until I get to Reginald. You got that?” Someone snatched my elbow, but my lips fused to hers, breathing her in, my hand tight to her hoodie. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“I’ll wait for you,” she said, her voice breaking. “Liam, I didn’t mean to do—”

“Shut up,” I gritted out, covering her mouth with a palm, snaking an arm around her waist. “I love you, Alexa.”

“—Two seconds, or you’ll be joining the slammer.” Someone ripped me away from her, and my chest tightened. “Back off, Warren!”

Spearing a hand through my dishevelled hair, I stepped back, seeking her eyes. Two officers marched her to the door, clinging to her cuffed wrists. As if feeling the pain in my chest, Alexa, peered over her shoulder and smiled. “I love you, too,” she mouthed, optimism replacing distress. “Always.”

I was never vulnerable. In that slow-paced time-frame, though, I felt completely helpless.

Jace, hands to his mouth, put his back to the wall. His genuine trepidation had no place in my home. “Get rid of him,” I growled under my breath, and Josh nodded, wading between armed men, patting Jace on the shoulder. He points to the front door, mumbling for him to leave. I felt Jace’s stare but paid scarce attention to him scurrying behind officers.

The penthouse emptied, a cold, deathly silence in their wake. I sank onto a sideboard, benumbed and knocked for fucking six. “Get Reginald on the phone.” Pain like no other enwreathed my heart. “I am not letting the love of my life rot in fucking chains. Get that prick on the phone and fix this!”

Brad busied himself, one hand covering his eyes, the other hand, putting a phone to his ear.

“Sir?” Nate drawled, passing me a phone. “I think you should take this.”

I didn’t recognise the number.

Inhaling a deep, composing breath, I cleared my throat. “Warren.”

“You are an impossible man to pin down, Warren.” He sounded authoritative but young.

I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to barter. “What can I do for you, Vincent?”

He was silent for all of five seconds. “I don’t recall giving a name.”

“Perspicaciousness,” I said arrogantly, and he chuckled, dark yet humoured. “You hound my attention. Why?”

“Reginald cannot assist Alexa Haines’ arrest.” The second her name flew out of his mouth, my spine stiffened. “Someone told the Magistrates’ Court how your relationship to the Chief might be a conflict of interest. Detective Donny Stevens, a rather close friend of mine, so happens to be leading inquiries. With the right amount of gratitude, I may or may not offer my services.”

“You conceited motherfucker,” I growled, hand crushing the phone. “I march to no one’s drum.”

“Not even for her?”

“Not for you,” I corrected, noticing Brad’s soaring frustration as he argued on the phone. “What type of fool do you take me for, Vincent? Nothing in life comes for free. If you offer a service? It means you expect something in return. I dish out favours, but lend a hand from no one.”

“I want nothing but acceptance, Liam.”

“Warren,” I fired back, impossible rage honing my bones. “You are not above me, Vincent. You are below me—a dispensable, worthless, desperate man, who should feel privileged I even entertained this nonsense. Do not call. Do not hound. My friendly warning expires the second I terminate this call, so I dare you to fuck with me one more time.”

“I don’t fear you, Liam.” He laughed, low and sardonic. “I love you far too much.”

It’s not often someone renders me speechless. “You got a death wish, Vincent?”

“By no means,” he said nonchalantly. “I do, however, wish to amalgamate with my estranged sibling. Imagine that, Liam. Two Warren brothers. It’s a force to be reckoned with, right?”