Whatever the Cost (42 page)

Jacen follows along behind the small group as Joe and Lily take Liam through the bistro, showing him the space, the bar, the kitchen and the office in back. He lets them run the show, distracted as he is by Liam’s appearance. The perfectly pressed suit with its crisp lines, the grey on grey palette, his perfectly, painstakingly polished dress shoes and the elegance of the combined effect offset by smoky eye make-up and the obvious facial piercing, his slicked-back blond hair, it all works just as Liam intends it to. He looks like himself. He’s debonair, refined, sensual, and most of all, beautiful. It makes Jacen smile happily to see Lily fall for him so fast, taken in by Liam’s natural charm. And the lack of judgment from Joe, the way he welcomed Liam in with opened arms—it’s like a dream come true. It makes Jacen feel that he really does belong here, with them.

And he’s never loved Liam more than he does in that moment. Jacen’s never been prouder of him.

They catch each other’s eye now and then, communicating what they each feel without anything as cumbersome as words. Jacen’s pride and his desire is countered by Liam’s ease, patience and wicked knowing. Liam feels Jacen looking at him, undressing him with his eyes, and Liam invites it eagerly, lips soft and smiling, squaring his shoulders, and sending Jacen sultry, heated glances.

As they wind their way behind the imposing, finely crafted bar, Liam is the one to spot Joe’s self-defense system—a huge shotgun stowed under the bar’s countertop, within reach.

“You have much need of this?” Liam asks, indicating the weapon.

“Nah, but you never know. I had to bust my butt and earn through plain and simple hard work everything I’ve got in this life. Well, ’til my Auntie Laura kicked it a good fifteen years ago—old money from politicin’, oil and cattle ranchin’—and went and left it all to her only living relative, yours truly. She always did have a soft spot for Lily, who was only a baby then, and me a single father trying to provide for her. I wouldn’t have my home or the bistro without that capital to fund it. Fiercely protecting my assets has come naturally to me ever since. My employees—and my daughter—are kind enough to indulge my eccentricities. I guess that’s what happens when you give a blue-collar guy white-collar opportunities. I watch over them like they’re all my kids. If that means making them use that silly little phone app to check in when they’re at work, so that I can see where my delivery guys are, and see who’s in the building when I’m off-site or out for the day, they humor me—your husband included. If it means being okay with that shotgun’s presence, then they can either accept it or find somewhere else to work. And I tell ’em if they ask, that a few years back the store to our left was held up at gunpoint. That’s when I brought this in, just in case.”

“Are you good with it?”

“Hell yeah, I’m good with it. I have a cabin that I use when I go hunting. Mine is a military family on my father’s side. Auntie Laura was my mother’s sister. We were trained at a young age to know how to defend ourselves and handle a wide array of weaponry. I’ve been taking Lily to the shooting range since she was this big,” Joe says, holding his hand up at about chest height.

“I gotta say, it does make me feel like Jacen is safer, knowing all of that,” Liam tells him. “Maybe I’ll start using that phone app to keep tabs with him. And, you know what? I might ask you for the location of that shooting range. Get some target practice in. Couldn’t hurt.”

He can feel Jacen’s hard stare, but Liam doesn’t meet it this time.

“Yeah? In that case, I’ll take you to the range myself. I’d be happy to. You pick the date, just as long as it’s a morning or a Monday when we’re closed.”

“Sounds great. Let me check my calendar and I’ll let you know.”

“Liam,” Jacen starts, then bites his tongue.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Liam tells his husband, finally locking eyes with him. “Think I’ll look into getting a license to carry, too. For protection.”

Jacen’s expression tells him clearly,
We’ll talk about this later.

Sensing Jacen’s displeasure, Joe clears his throat and says, “Can I offer you both a drink on the house before you go?”

“Thanks, Joe, but it’s getting late and we should head home. Next time, for sure.”

“It was very nice to finally meet you both,” Liam says, shaking their hands again, favoring them with a warm smile of gratitude. “I’ll be in touch.”

“You have my number,” Joe nods.

After Jacen gathers his things from the back room, they walk out of the bistro and back to the car, not really paying much attention to their surroundings, giving cursory glances to the traffic as they cross the road.

“You want a
gun
now?!”

“I think you know there are very good reasons for us to be armed,” Liam counters. “With proper training I think it’d be the perfect way for us to feel safer.”

“Do you know how easy it is to have a deadly accident with a gun? For it to be taken and turned on you? I don’t like it, Lee, at all. Every time I’ve been in a situation where there were weapons like that... it never was a good thing. For anyone.”

“I don’t want to argue about it,” Liam sighs. “If you’re that adamant about it, then we can talk about it later, before doing anything. All right? I just thought it might help.”

Jacen, frowning, takes the keys from Liam, who holds them out. He walks to the driver’s side of the truck and looks at Liam from across the hood, not aware that their whole exchange is being observed.

“Okay?” Liam adds, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m officially dropping it.”

Jacen remains stubborn for a moment longer, battling to remain calm despite the grisly images flashing in his head of Liam having a gun put to his head, of Liam getting shot, bleeding out and dying in his arms.

“Baby....”

“Okay,” Jacen relents. “Let’s go home. It’s late. I’m just tired.”

Liam nods and they both open their doors, settling into the seats. Gunning the engine, Jacen uses the mirrors to reverse out of the spot, checking to make sure there isn’t anyone walking behind the vehicle as he clears the front end and turns to pull forward. As they coast up to the exit, a black Lincoln Towncar with its lights off slowly creeps out of its own parking spot nearby. The person in the passenger seat sets down the long-range camera in their hands and picks up a cell phone instead.

The truck joins the flow of traffic on the main road. A few cars behind them, the Lincoln follows.

The tension between Liam and Jacen, spurred by the argument over whether Liam should get a gun, lasts all night and into the next morning. Jacen’s ever-present paranoia of finally being found by the representatives of The Company is given new life by the mention of possibly arming themselves. He has also not stopped fearing that the phone call between Liam and Ryan could, at long last, produce results. Just like the night when Liam ran away after the fight following that call, Jacen is plagued by nightmares, daymares and horrifying visions of what could come to pass if their fragile luck happens to suddenly run out. Not wanting to blame Liam for his uneasiness, Jacen closes off and tries to deal with it on his own, thereby leaving Liam out in the cold.

They hardly speak to one another after they get home that night. Jacen goes to bed soon after getting his shower, but isn’t able to relax or surrender to sleep until very late. In the morning, Liam wakes early, as usual. He attempts a peace offering in the form of a valiant but not-entirely-successful attempt at vegetable omelets. Jacen wakes and eats his share, but the strained silence continues anyway.

Once Jacen is dressed and ready to leave for work, Liam waits at the door to their apartment to say goodbye. Dressed in his pajama pants and a baggy shirt, he hugs himself, his eyes opened wide with pleading. When Jacen avoids meeting his gaze, Liam bows his head and says softly to his husband once they are standing toe-to-toe, “I’m sorry for even bringing it up in the first place. I just thought it could help put your mind at ease. If I knew it would upset you this much, I never would have—”

Jacen silences him with a tight shake of his head. “Don’t. It’s not your fault; it’s just that I’ve had a tendency to focus only on the worst-case scenarios lately. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is....” Sighing heavily, he squeezes his eyes shut, willing the visions away for good. It doesn’t work. Liam steps up close to Jacen, who pulls him into a gentle hug, kissing the side of his head. “All I want is to stop being so afraid all the time.”

“Me too,” Liam admits, folding himself into Jacen’s comforting warmth while he still can.

Liam watches Jacen pull away from the building in the truck; his heart aching, the unease only building in him as Jacen disappears from sight. The feeling of
wrongness
won’t leave him. He can’t shake it.

Troubled, twitchy, he seeks some way to soothe his frayed nerves, even if it’s a temporary balm, destined to fade quickly.

There is one thing that he knows will help, something he hasn’t dared to indulge in until now. His musings from the previous night, before he went in to meet Joe and Lily and the whole debacle of the gun discussion, rise to the surface once more. Liam knows it’s selfish, and more than a little crazy. But he’s alone with his troubled heart and if it helps him feel better, then where’s the harm in it?

He goes to the bedroom and uncovers an unopened box hidden at the back of his closet under a couple of old jackets. Very carefully, he peels back the brown packing tape sealing it shut and pries apart the cardboard flaps. Lifting out the contents, he cradles them in a hand. Even just touching them, feeling their actuality, makes him feels so much better. He takes a deep, filling breath and lets it slowly back out, knowing it’s right, and it’s time.

He turns off his phone, unable to face conversation with anyone in the state in which he finds himself. After a solid hour and a half of preparation, Leah emerges from the bathroom, leaving Liam temporarily behind. She busies herself around the apartment, doing laundry, cleaning up, paying bills. Time slips by.

Sometime in the early afternoon, right about when the lunch rush should really be kicking into gear at the bistro, Leah turns her attention to the leftover breakfast dishes. She turns on the radio and gazes out the window over the sink, not really seeing anything, just daydreaming happily and singing quietly along with the music.

She doesn’t hear the lock turn, which might have been enough warning to allow her to hide or run to another room, out of sight. It’s only when the door opens that she realizes in a second she will no longer be alone in the apartment.

Terror—icy cold and unbearably strong—freezes her to the spot. Stricken with panic, her hands in soapy water, her throat closing up around the breath of air that her body demands that she draw, Leah is suddenly lightheaded and quakes with a tremor that grows and grows. Her heart hammers wildly against her ribs, quickening to a dangerous pace as she grips the counter’s edge for purchase.

She doesn’t even dare look to make sure it’s Jacen. From the particular music made by the way he unlocks the door and sighs, kicking off his shoes, Leah knows it’s him. It might even be easier if it wasn’t Jacen and was some burglar instead.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

She can’t breathe. Her lungs refuse to work, choosing death by suffocation over the current level of her mortification.

He’s not supposed to be home. He’s not supposed to be home for hours.

“Hey,” Leah hears from the doorway, and it’s like the world is moving in slow motion, every second an hour in length. Her lungs burn the longer she goes without her next inhale, and then the burning spreads to her eyes as they threaten to produce tears in quantity.

Jacen doesn’t make another sound and Leah knows he’s finally seen her, standing there at the sink, wearing the blue silk dress, the one from Liam’s nightmare. He’d bought it weeks ago, just to have, not to use. Along with the dress, he’d also ordered a corset that she’s also wearing. With care, she had applied Leah’s make-up, but that’s as far as it went. She doesn’t have her wig, or the right shoes, or falsies. Barefoot in her dress, Leah wants to die. Her heart tears in half, offering itself in sacrifice in order to spare her further humiliation. The rush of blood in her ears drowns out every other sound—Jacen’s footsteps getting closer, the radio, the honk of car horns outside.

The nightmare is coming true, her worst fears realized, a punishment for the crime of finally owning her full self, in defiance of everyone’s expectations, including Liam’s own, and in defiance of Timothy’s imagined scorn from beyond the grave. She senses Jacen getting closer, still silent, and actually braces herself to be struck. She grips the counter, waiting for Jacen to backhand her to the side of the head for being such a stupid fucking whore.