A Dom Is Forever (37 page)

Liam came off Adam and turned around, his focus shifting to her. His hand came up and wiped a thin trickle of blood off his mouth. “It better not be something about her size. We’ve already had that conversation once tonight,
darlin
’.”

When he looked at her like that, she wanted to sink down and beg his forgiveness, but that was stupid. The whole
BDSM
thing was just as fake as the rest of him. “It’s none of your business.”

He stalked across the apartment to get to her. “That’s where you’re wrong. It is me business and it’s going to be me business for the foreseeable future, or are you going to walk away from this here and now?”

Walk away? And never see him again? She shook that thought off. It was a dangerous thought and just proved she wasn’t really thinking at all. “I’m going to the office tomorrow and you know it.”

“I won’t have you talking bad about yourself. Not now. Not ever again.”

He was just a big old bully. “I want to go to bed now, Liam.” She was done with this conversation. She was done with Adam and Jake. She was definitely done with Liam. Except he had to come home with her. “You can sleep on the couch. There are no cameras, so no one has to know. All they’ll hear is someone shuffling around.”

“No.” Liam turned around and pointed a finger Adam’s way. “I catch you even looking at her ass again and I’ll kill you. I kissed Serena to prove a point, and it worked. It got the two of you working together. I don’t need any points proven to me. I’m smarter than both of you combined.”

Jake shrugged. “Serena would probably agree.”

“Come along. You want to go to bed. We’ll go to bed.” He tugged her hand into his.

She resisted, pulling back because she knew damn well she couldn’t get into bed with him. It would be a complete disaster, and she would look like an idiot. Again. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not saying yes, Liam. This is rape.”

He turned, those emerald green eyes rolling. “I’m not going to fuck you, though we both know damn well it wouldn’t be rape. I’m willing to give you some time to see how stubborn you’re being. You’ve had a shock, and you’re unsure of things right now, but you’ll see that things between us will get back to normal. I lied about my name and why I approached you. I didn’t lie about a damn thing else. I want you, girl. I want you so bad that I’m willing to give up the only family I have. That’s what I would be doing if Ian fires me.”

“Ian’s not going to fire you. He didn’t fire us, and we probably deserved it more,” Adam admitted, holding a bag of frozen peas to his left eye. “And I didn’t mean to be a Peeping Tom, Avery. I just couldn’t come up with an excuse to not help you. And I told my wife about it.”

She wanted to believe them all, but she couldn’t. It was too much for one day. She’d rolled around in misery and confusion and pain enough for one twenty-four hour period.

She followed Liam out and was silent as they entered the apartment she’d adored right up until a few hours before. This place had been her fresh start. She remembered the first time she’d walked in and realized that this was a place that held no bad memories, a place where she could make fresh ones.

And she’d spent weeks alone here with someone watching her every move.

Liam locked the door and pulled her along, her feet shuffling against the wood floors, taking the proper steps and, for once, not faltering. She simply followed him, her insides numb. It felt a little like a bad dream that she was being forced to survive until she could wake herself up. He tugged her into the bedroom they’d shared, and he was solemn as he pulled her sweater over her head, reverent as he unclasped her bra.

It didn’t matter. If he wanted to fuck her, he would, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it except survive. She almost welcomed it because it would be good to have one more thing to hate him for.

He leaned over and kissed her belly, just a light brush as he got to his knees. His head tilted up, and she would have sworn she saw a glimmer of tears there.

Forgive me.
He mouthed the words.
Forgive me.

She didn’t reply, had to look away. She couldn’t even think about it. Not yet. Maybe one day in the distant future she could let it go, but not tonight. She was still as he unbuckled her jeans and dragged them off. He sighed and got up, pulling back the covers and tucking her in bed. He didn’t give her the comfort of a nightgown. She’d never worn one around him. No underwear and no nightgowns, he’d dictated. Nothing that would come between his flesh and hers. But she didn’t need a thin nylon nightie. The truth was a wall between them.

The sheets were chilly against her flesh. She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She’d known all along that he was too good to be true. He was still playing a game, and she was still his pawn.

Wasn’t she?

“Did I ever tell you about my brother?” It was odd to hear him talk in that flat American accent now that she’d heard the lyricism of his real voice. He pulled his shirt over his head and laid it on the dresser. It hurt to look at him, so she turned away.

“No. You didn’t mention a brother.” He hadn’t talked about his family at all.

“We grew up rough, me and my brother. Our mother hung out with, shall we say, a criminal element.” He got into bed beside her, and she just couldn’t turn away again. It seemed like a declaration of weakness. He climbed into bed, naked as he pleased, lying on his back, one arm behind his head. The sheet covered her, but somehow it only managed to cover Liam to his waist leaving his cut body on display. He turned his head to face her. “He was a rough kid, always getting into trouble, and he was my main responsibility in life. All I heard from the time I can remember being able to walk and talk was to take care of my brother.”

What was he doing? Why was he telling her this now?

“I loved my brother so much, but he was a pain in my ass. He had a really thick skull. I don’t know. I think I look back with rose-colored glasses. That’s the phrase, right? When you lose someone, you tend to try to forget the bad.”

She snorted a little. She couldn’t help it. Brandon had been the world’s biggest slob.

Had Liam really lost his brother or was this another story he was making up? She kept silent, unwilling to be drawn in, but he just kept talking.

“He wasn’t a bad kid, at least I told myself he wasn’t. I don’t know. Maybe I was worse. I got into a lot of fights, but my brother was just very self-centered. He plotted a lot. He stole from the church fund once while we were altar boys. I had to cover it up. He did a lot of other stuff, but I tried to turn a blind eye.”

She hadn’t had siblings while she was growing up, but she could imagine how hard it would be if one went bad. “That’s terrible.”

He sighed, his eyes on the ceiling. “We were hungry. I told myself that at the time. Now I wonder what he’d been planning to do with the money. It doesn’t matter because in the end, I failed, and I think I’ve been trying to figure out a way to forgive myself for years. He followed me into the Army. There wasn’t any other place for us to go. He rose through the ranks with me, and I lost him on a mission. I failed.”

She couldn’t help it. She reached out and put a hand on his chest. “You didn’t fail.”

“Rory died, Avery. I failed. I didn’t pull the trigger, but I allowed myself to get into a situation where he died, and I didn’t even have a body to bury. I miss him. I can’t even imagine how much worse it was for you. I want you to teach me.”

“Teach you what?”

“How to live like you. How to be as strong as you are.”

“I hardly think you can learn anything from me.” She started to pull her hand away, but he held it.

“Please, Avery. Just this much.”

She turned on her side. She wasn’t sure she could handle the new, honest Liam. He was even deadlier than the liar.

She fell asleep with her hand on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart.

* * * *

The man who claimed to be Thomas Molina felt every muscle in his body freeze as Lee Donnelly spoke.

Rory died, Avery. I failed.

The room went cold.

Coincidence. It was just a coincidence. That was all it was. Like the story about the thieving altar boy was just a coincidence. Tension ran down his spine.

He set down his Scotch and walked across the office to where he kept his personal files. He certainly wasn’t stupid enough to keep them at
UOF
Headquarters. No. This was his private office in his privately owned town house. He’d made many modifications to the place since he’d purchased it with all of Thomas Molina’s lovely money. That fucker hadn’t known how to live. Bloody wanker.

Molina hadn’t understood what it meant to be truly hungry. His legs might not have functioned, but he’d never gone hungry. He’d been a sad rich man playing at redemption. Molina had cried when he’d had a gun to his head. He’d bawled and said something about all the good he’d done in the world.

Good meant nothing. What the real Molina had never understood was that all those blighted bastards who ate the food he sent to them would have slashed his throat in a second because they lived in the real world where loyalty meant nothing. Friendship meant nothing.

Brotherhood meant nothing.

Only money mattered, and he’d proven that when he’d killed his only brother in a bomb blast and taken those fucking bonds and made his deal with Nelson.

Teach you what?
Avery’s voice came over the speaker.

How to live like you. How to be as strong as you are.

He nearly vomited. What an idiot. Avery was weak. Avery was sweet and sugary and all the things that would make her so much fun to break and watch when she finally understood the real world.

Rory O’Donnell’s world.

Rory cursed under his breath as he looked at the photos Malcolm had taken. Why wouldn’t the bastard look up? Lee Donnelly was a master at making sure no one caught his face.

Lee Donnelly.

The key when you’re picking an undercover name, brother, is to find one you won’t have trouble answering to. Stick close to the truth. That’s the best way.

His brother had always tried to take the lead. He’d always tried to teach him. The truth washed over the man who had been formerly known as Rory O’Donnell.

His brother was alive and in bed with his secretary. His dead brother had managed to show up right before Rory settled the biggest score of his lifetime. Rage shuddered through him. He couldn’t tell anyone. Malcolm was already set to kill Donnelly. If Rory was right, Malcolm should be told.

He couldn’t do it. It would make him look weak. He’d told his enforcer the story of Liam’s death a number of times. He couldn’t look weak now. And he couldn’t let Malcolm know that Nelson had potentially lied. A man like Malcolm went with the strongest leader he could find. He didn’t need to lose Malcolm to Nelson. Hopefully Malcolm would kill the Donnelly chap and no one would know the truth.

Rory looked out over the street. When they’d been children, they had lived in the slums of Dublin, and every night his brother would promise him that one day they would have nice houses and plenty of food.

He’d come so far from that rat hole, but it looked like his past was back to try to reel him in.

He’d killed dear Liam once. If Malcolm failed, he would have to do it again.

Avery’s hands shook a little as she put the coffee down. Even the slight clatter made her want to jump, and she’d made the sound herself. The break room at the
UOF
building was quiet and the sound echoed. She was jumping at everything today. She wasn’t cut out for all the spy stuff. This was her one and only foray into espionage.

She’d woken up with a spy in her bed, cuddled close even though she’d tried to turn away from him.

What the hell was she going to do about Liam? And what was wrong with her? She was in the middle of something serious and all she could think about was a man who had lied to her. A man who had used her. A man who was trying to do something right. She didn’t have a problem with his investigation, but did he really have to sleep with her?

“Are you going to get some coffee or just stare at the mug?"

Avery jumped at the masculine voice. She turned to see Simon Weston standing in the doorway, looking cool and collected in his perfectly pressed suit. He didn’t have a problem with the spy stuff, but then he was a real live spy. She was surrounded by them all of the sudden.

He looked around the small break room. It was empty, but he still kept his voice low. “Calm down, Avery.”

Yeah, she was trying. She’d been told that Simon had been filled in by his boss, Damon Knight, and would be her MI6 contact. After today, Liam was just a bodyguard if he hung around at all.

I’m not going anywhere, Avery. So stop thinking that I am. I won’t leave you alone. Not ever.

He’d whispered the words in her ear as he stood beside her on the Tube, the heavy traffic shoving them together, pressing them until they were nestled like puzzle pieces.

How long would it be before she would stop feeling his hands on her body?

She shook off the thought and grabbed the coffeepot only to have it clatter and shake. Simon cursed and took it from her.

“You’re going to get us all killed if you don’t stop,” he whispered. He poured out a mug of French roast. “It’s a normal day, just like any other. When the boss goes out, you go in and find those files. The minute I have them in hand, you’re out of this. It’s very simple, sweetheart.”

She nodded, but there was nothing simple about any of this. Liam was somewhere in the city getting ready to follow a man who was an acknowledged murderer. He was going to follow him and quietly take him down, very likely with lethal force. She’d been sleeping with a killer, and all she could do was pray that he came out of this okay. She wouldn’t be able to take a real breath until she knew he was all right. But she wasn’t going to let him know it.