Page 11 of Resurgent
I nod again.
“Shh,” he warns as he slowly removes his hand from my mouth. He watches me closely, and after a minute, satisfied that I’m not going to scream, he climbs off me. I kick him as hard as I can in the groin. With a muttered curse, he doubles over. Seizing my opportunity, I scramble off the bed and make a beeline for the door. I’d rather take my chances with the guard than stay in this room and be raped. Hell, maybe heisthe guard. I make it five steps before he tackles me, his arms banded around me softening my fall as my body hits the hard tile floor with a bone-jarring thud. I struggle again wildly, but he holds me tight.
“Charlotte! It’s me. Liam.” Cupping my chin firmly in his hand, my assailant forces my gaze to his. “Look at me!” Familiar blue eyes stare back at me. It can’t be. Liam’s dead. I went to his memorial service. I cried over the scent of him on a bandana what seems like a lifetime ago.
I shake my head. “No, you’re not. Liam was killed during an explosion in Pakistan rescuing an aid worker.”
He stares at me for one long minute, then places his palms firmly on either side of my face and kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that lays claim to a woman, and it levels me, just like it did in Mexico. There’s no denying that immediate familiar and unmistakable jolt of chemistry that had first scared the shit out of me, then made me believe that maybe I’d been wrong about everything. He’s not a figment of my imagination.
“It reallyisyou,” I breathe.
That take charge, dominant, alpha-male stuff, along with that cocky grin coupled with the dark look in his eyes, is undeniably Liam. I stare at him as reality sinks in. Liam’s alive. Liam, who introduced me to pleasure beyond my wildest dreams and told me he loved me and would come back for me. Liam, who let everyone believe he was dead.
Thanks to Liam, McKenzie’s life is in danger, Walker’s barely been able to function, taking a leave of absence trying to prove Liam didn’t sell guns to the cartel, and I’ve been heartbrokenandkidnapped. And all this time, he’s been alive, blithely going about his business in Mexico? Not to mention, he just took five years off my life making me think I was about to be raped and killed. “You bastard,” I hiss. “Get the fuck off me!”
He shoots me an incredulous look, but he doesn’t make a move to release me. “What?”
“You heard me. You’re a fucking bastard.”
“You’re right. How dare I rescue you from a drug cartel? That was a really shitty thing to do.” The asshole is actually grinning at me. He shakes his head. “Damn. I knew I should have gone with the white horse and the dramatic entry.”
“You’re a liar. You let everyone think you were dead. We mourned you, and you were alive this whole time?”
“Look, it’s a long story,” he says.
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it in the dark. “Oh, I’m sure it is. Do you know how many nights McKenzie cried for you? Or that she almost got killed trying to complete your bucket list, just to feel closer to you?” There’s no way I’m admitting to him that I’d cried for him, too, or that what was just a one-night stand to him had rocked my whole world.
He has the good grace to look ashamed, and I feel a stab of satisfaction at the pain and regret that flashes across his face, even if it’s not for me. But the look is gone in an instant, replaced by his game face, the one I imagine he uses when he’s trying to rally his SEAL team. My body responds instinctively. Damn him. There’s nothing sexier than a man with unbridled confidence and a take-charge attitude.
“Look, I’ll explain later. But if you want to get out of here alive, you’re going to have to trust me.”
He’s right. He’s a Navy SEAL commander, a good one, and there’s no one I’d trust more to save my life. My heart is another story. “Fine,” I say. “But this isn’t over.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Ignoring the way my stomach quivers at the dark innuendo in his voice, I let him help me to my feet.
“Is McKenzie here?” His voice is calm and businesslike, and it steadies me.
I take a deep breath. “I don’t think so. They thought I was her. I was leaving her apartment when they kidnapped me.”
His eyes rake over my fully-clothed body, and for a millisecond, I feel self-conscious. I’m still wearing the jeans and tank top I wore over to McKenzie’s apartment, and I haven’t showered or brushed my hair since then. There’s a toilet and sink in the room, but nothing else, and while I’d been given a threadbare towel and dingy bar of soap, I’ve been too afraid to take my clothes off and shower. I always take pride in looking put together. It’s like my armor against the world, but I suddenly feel naked and vulnerable. I mentally shake my head. Fuck it. That Charlotte is gone, and in her place is the new badass version who’s going to save herself. Okay, maybe with a little help. “Let’s go,” I say.
“Get your shoes.” He sounds like a drill sergeant now, and I instinctively respond. “You have anything else?”
I shake my head. I haven’t seen my handbag since the two thugs grabbed me, but they hadn’t searched me, and Liam’s passport with his bucket list tucked into the back is still in my back pocket. I don’t have anything else, except for McKenzie’s necklace. They hadn’t taken it. I was still wearing it when I came to, and I’d taken it off and slipped it into my pocket so they wouldn’t decide to keep it after all.
With his finger to his lips cautioning me to be quiet, he slowly opens the door. He looks around and then grabs my hand, pulling me out into the night. I carefully disengage my hand from his. I don’t know what the protocol is for a one-night stand who dies and then reappears, or what to do with the sizzling charge of electricity that still flows through me every time we touch.
We tiptoe down the stairs. He gestures for me to wait as he scans the courtyard, then motions me to follow him. As we move through the shadows, I notice the limp body of the armed night guard who has been stationed outside of my room for the last three days. He’s lying naked on a chaise lounge near the pool, his hands folded over his privates and a hibiscus flower tucked behind his ear. I suppress a smile. “What did you do to the guard?” I whisper.
He shoots me a quick grin. “Just making him pretty for the maids.”
It’s hard to stay mad at Liam.
We stop once, and Liam pulls out a wicked-looking knife and cuts the thick, long length of rope used to anchor the pool furniture, quickly coiling it and attaching it to his belt loop with a carabiner clip before urging me on again. We snake our way down a palm tree-lined path, eventually emerging in front of the palatial house.
“Let’s go,” I urge, headed toward the short fence that surrounds the house.
