Burn (Brothers of Ink and Steel #2) (21 page)

I open the door and find Bailey blocking my path.

“Can I go by you, boy?” I ask.

He sits immediately and licks my hand.

“Thanks.” I pet his head, and he follows me into the main living space.

It’s so full of Liam Knight. Photos line the walls—of his tattoo work, of him and the celebrities he’s worked with and the teens he’s trained with.

A photograph of the boys from Cade’s, from before I left, hangs in the room’s most prominent spot. He called them the brothers of ink and steel. I smile at the thought that he named his shop after them. I recall what he did with them—what they did
for
him, for
me
—that night.

I swallow hard and put the memory back in the vault. It’s just a memory that can’t hurt me anymore, unless I let it.

I rewind further, to when those same boys couldn’t eat breakfast without fighting over something … or nothing. That makes me smile. They were the roughest, sweetest, most injured boys I’d ever known, and yet they spilled their blood for me and for each other. Who would have thought? Then they became the closest of friends.

Of all the people who’ve gone in and out of Liam’s life, I’m the one who caused the damage I promised I never would. Irreversible, crushing damage. My hand lifts to the photograph, and I let my fingertips trail over the fragile glass.

I think what I need to do is say I’m sorry, but I don’t know how. Or maybe it hurts too much to think he might not say he forgives me.

“Would you like a drink?” Liam’s voice floats in from the kitchen.

Would I ever!
“Please.”

“I’ve got whiskey or bourbon. Pick your poison.” 

“Whiskey.” I could use the hard stuff.

Walking through the living room and into the gourmet foodie’s dream of a kitchen, Bailey continues to follow me.

“There you are,” he says, and I see he’s talking to the dog. Liam hands me a glass with ice and Coke. Just the way I like to drink it. “Traitor,” he whispers at Bailey.

He doesn’t really look angry, so it invokes a smile out of me.

I—we—follow Liam out onto a warm sunporch, where the outside light spills in. The fluffy chairs are overstuffed and comfortable.

What else is comfortable is that I’ve seen no signs of anything womanly. It’s a little relieving. I was almost expecting to find that he and Adrienne were married and had kids. It doesn’t look like she lives here, and there are certainly no signs of kids. But that thought shoots another dagger through my heart. Liam has so much love to give. He’d be an amazing father.

“I love the view of the lake,” I tell him. “I bet this room is incredible at night with the stars.”

“It is.” He drinks, and his ice slides and chimes against the side of the glass. “Here are a few menus for the places that deliver, if you’d like to eat in. Or we could go out, if you’d be more comfortable.” Liam looks very
un
comfortable as he puts the menus into my hand.

“You don’t have to feed me,” I reassure him. “I can call a cab from here.”

“No …” he says, stopping me. “I’d like to have dinner with you.”

“Okay.” I nod shakily. “I think staying in would be good.”
Because I want you all to myself.

Oh God!
I just thought that!

I down the drink in three gulps. I hope it works its magic on my frazzled nerves quickly. Then I remember what I look like. “The hike took my makeup and hair and … now I’m just a hot mess.”

“You are hot, Quinn, but you’re not a mess. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

My breath catches.

Liam stands up, empties his glass and takes mine from my hand. “Another?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“How about Moroccan fried chicken from The World Kitchen and a six pack of Corona?” He doesn’t wait for my answer; instead, I watch as he stalks back towards the kitchen and mumbles, “I really can’t be trusted, drinking whisky tonight.”

Drink the whiskey!
I think.

I don’t want him to be trustworthy; I want him to finish what he started earlier this morning. Of course, that sends a pang of guilt through me. He’s taken, and he’s trying to be on his best behavior. I should be applauding him for that—that’s the kind of guy that Liam is. The kind he always was.

I hear him use his landline to call in the food order.

Of course, my resolve falters. Maybe I should just call that cab after all and get my ridiculous ass back to North House. But Liam did say he wanted me to stay for dinner.

Just as I’m contemplating my dilemma, Bailey comes over and sets his muzzle on my leg, demanding my attention.

I lean into his sweet, furry face. “Why did he name you Bailey? Is it because it’s my favorite drink, or is it simply a coincidence?”

“Hey, Quinn, I’m just going to run down to the store. The restaurant’s out of Corona, and I need a couple of things anyway.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want me to—?”

“No, it’s all good. Make yourself at home.” His moodiness wavers as the side of his mouth tugs upward. “I see Bailey already has.”

“Yeah, guess he has.”

“Is there anything you’d like me to grab for you?” he offers.

“No, thanks. Could I use your phone, though? It’s long distance, but I don’t want people to start worrying.” I stand up.

“Of course. Stupid Josh. Wait until I see him tomorrow.” He grabs his coat and heads towards the door before he pauses.

“Did you forget something?” I ask.

He turns back to me. “I …” He hesitates, then walks straight over to me and buries his strong hand under my hair so he can hold the back of my neck. “I may not act like it, but I’m … grateful you’re here … in my house. I’ve missed you like hell, Quinn.” Liam places his warm lips onto the top of my head and presses them for a moment against my hair and scalp.

I close my eyes, caught up in the sensation, caught up in the tenderness.

In a moment he turns and strides out the door, leaving me breathless.

I rush to the phone.

“Hello? I don’t recognize the caller ID so you better talk quick before I hang up on your ass.”

“Shellie!”

“Quinn? Why haven’t you answered your fucking phone all day?! I’ve been just about out of my mind!”

“It’s sort of hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

“I don’t have time. Suffice it to say that the boys—especially Josh—”

“Josh the Jackhammer?” Shellie purrs.

“Yes. He’s trying to get me and Liam talking.”

“Is it working?”

“Yes. No.” I grasp for an answer, barely stopping to breathe between thoughts. “Oh, I don’t know what to do! He’s just so … perfect … and
him,
after all these years, and I don’t see signs of a live-in relationship, but he did kiss this girl goodbye at his shop and … oh God, I don’t know … he’s calling me beautiful, and he named the dog Bailey, and—”

“Stop! For Christ’s sake, woman, calm down! You’re not making much sense.”

I whimper, “I knew I missed him, but seeing him again, I’m a freaking mess!”

“Honey, it’s going to be alright.”

“I think he’s been seeing this girl for the past few years, and I feel like shit, like I’m luring him into some kind of infidelity.”

She laughs. “Luring him into infidelity?! Listen to yourself. He ain’t married, right?”

“No, he isn’t,” I answer. “But I still … I want …”

“Of course you fucking
want.
He’s Liam-fucking-Knight, and if he looks even half as hot as he does on TV … Mmm, mmm, mmm!”

“What am I doing here, Shell?”

“Looking for the pieces of your life that got left behind.”

I consider that. “I don’t want to go back to where I’m staying tonight. I want to stay here. If he wants to sleep with me …”

“DO IT!”

“Stop it!
Do it.
I don’t want him to think I’m a … I don’t know, that I’m …”

She busts up laughing. “Easy?”

Shellie is laughing so hard, I just lean against the counter with my tongue in my cheek.

“Oh, yeah!” She pants, out of breath. “That’s great. That’s absolutely rich coming out of your mouth! First, you’ve dated two other guys since Liam … two! I wouldn’t quite chalk you up there with say, I don’t know, a porn star.”

Now I’m laughing. “Shut up!”

“Honey, you and Liam have had this connection since you were what, fifteen? It’s never diminished, if anything it’s become stronger. At least I know for you it has. And if your old friends are trying to force you talk to each other, that’s a really good indication that they know something we don’t, and it could be that he still feels the exact same way.” She continues, “And Quinn, even if you threw yourself at him—or any man for that matter—they’re going to be too busy trying to prove their manhood to think anything about you except that you must be an angel sent from sex-heaven.”

Sex-heaven.

“You should see him. In real life, he’s drop dead gorgeous. He still wears his jet black hair trimmed short on the back and side, but messy at the top. His physique is fucking jaw-dropping—”

“Oh, the power of boners,” she says. “Most powerful force in the universe.”

“Shellie, I’m—”

“Don’t say scared. Don’t you dare say you’re scared! I’ve known you nearly ten years, and you’re the bravest woman I know. Listen.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Whatever happens, whatever you two do or don’t do, whatever you find out, you’ll be able to move on and go forward, whatever that means. You know that, as much as you needed to go there for your own closure with your mom, you needed to do this and have this time with Liam so much more.

“But what about—?”

“There is no what about nothing or nobody,” she interrupts. “You can’t keep living with one foot in the past and the other in the future, ’cause, baby, you ain’t going in either direction. So go on now, and figure it out.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

After I hang up with Shellie, I wander through Liam’s home, trying to reconcile this man to the boy who still exists within my heart and head.

I go through the other two bathrooms. I find
Penthouse
and
Playboy
mags littered under the sinks, an art studio, his bedroom. It’s all decorated in simple, woodsy colors, very manly.

I go through his closet and let my hands play over the expensive tailored suits and jackets, thinking about how far he’s come from the boy who had nothing but a backpack.

The backpack.
Where does he keep his most intimate stuff now?

Soon, I find myself standing at his dresser with my hands on the knobs.

I open the top drawer, and there it is—his wooden treasure box. The one he showed me when we were kids. I don’t waste time, I lift the lid reverently. A plastic sandwich bag of crumbled autumn leaves, a sealed letter with my name on it but no address and an instant color Polaroid photo of the two of us—I’m smiling as he kisses my cheek.

Tears blur my vision. I remember when we took this—it was in a booth at the Mall of America, where we liked to hang out. It was after we’d been at North House for a few months. We were happy. For the first time in so long, we’d both felt safe. We were fed and warm. You can see the peace in Liam’s eyes.

*****

February, 2005

Quinn

“Quinn! Are you here?” I hear Liam shout. His voice echoes through the cemetery.

“LIAM!” I run.

I haven’t seen him for three weeks, not since he was stabbed by Vince’s thugs.

I run up the hill as he runs down it. We meet in the middle and come crashing together.

“I thought you might have died!” Tears are streaming down my face. “I thought they killed you!” My hands search and paw all over him.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to get back to you, but I promise I’m never leaving you again.” He holds me so tightly I can hardly breathe.

I can’t talk, I hang onto his neck for all I’m worth, afraid this will just be another one of the million dreams I’ve had since he’s been gone.

“Come on, let me look at you.” He pulls his face back. “Please don’t cry, baby. I’m here now.” He strokes his thumb under my eyes.

I gaze into his face. “You are here. You’re real. I don’t know if I can believe it!”

“I’m real.” Liam softly kisses me on one cheek, then the other one. “This is real.” He places a kiss on my forehead and then on my nose. “My love is real, and this kiss is real.” His mouth comes over mine, and our lips press together. My eyes close, as I sink into the kiss and his arms.

“What happened to you?” I finally ask.

“Cops came and took me to the hospital; they also handcuffed me to the bed. After about a hundred fucking stitches …” He pulls back and picks up his shirt to show me the scars.