No Returns (6 page)

I surrendered to the promise I felt in his touch.

Cradling me in one arm, Liam used his free hand to stroke the hair away from my face. I greedily drank in the scent of his cologne as I urgently allowed my fingers to rest against his thigh. His skin was warm, and smooth, a startling contrast to the very defined muscle I could feel beneath my hand. I remained perfectly still, comforted by his scent, his touch, and his nearness.

He captured my face in his hands, his callused thumbs teased my cheekbones. His blue eyes met and held mine. His jaw was set, his expression serious.

Using his hands, he tilted my head back. His face was mere fractions of an inch from mine. I could feel the ragged expulsion of his breath. Instinctively, my palms flattened against his chest. The thick mat of dark hair served as a cushion for my touch. Still, beneath the softness, I could easily feel the hard outline of muscle.

Liam’s lips brushed mine. His thumbs stroked the hollows of my cheeks.

I banished all thought from my mind. I wanted this, almost desperately. The feel of his hands and his lips made me feel alive. The ache in my chest was changing, evolving. I became acutely aware of every aspect of him. The pressure of his thigh where it touched mine. The sound of his uneven breathing. The magical sensation of his mouth on mine.

When he lifted his head, I grabbed his broad shoulders. “Don’t,” I whispered, urging him back to me.

His resistance was both surprising and short-lived. It was almost totally forgotten when his dipped his head. His lips did more than brush against mine. His hands left my face and wound around my body. Liam crushed me against him. I could actually feel the pounding of his heart beneath my hands.

The encounter quickly turned into something intense and consuming. His tongue moistened my slightly parted lips. The kiss became demanding and I was a very willing participant. I managed to work my hands across his chest, until I felt the outline of his erect nipples beneath my palms. He responded to my action by running his hands all over my back and nibbling my lower lip. It was a purely erotic action, one that inspired great need and desire in me.

A small moan escaped my lips as I kneaded the muscles of his chest. He tasted vaguely of mint and he continued to work magic with his mouth. I felt the kiss in the pit of my stomach. What had started as a pleasant warmth had grown into a full-fledged heat emanating from my very core, fueled by the sensation of his fingers snaking up my back, entwining in my hair, and guiding my head back at a severe angle. Passion flared as he hungrily devoured first my mouth, then the tender flesh at the base of my throat. His mouth was hot, the stubble of his beard slightly abrasive. And I felt it all. I was aware of everything – the outline of his body, the almost arrogant expectation in his kiss. Liam was obviously a skilled and talented lover. Me? A compliant and demanding partner.

The controlled urgency of his need was a heady thing. It gave me the sense that I had a certain primal power over this beautiful man.

Liam made quick work of my clothes. He kissed, touched and tasted until I literally demanded sex.

It was no longer an act, it was a need. I needed Liam inside of me to feel complete.

Poised above, his brow glistening with perspiration, Liam looked down at me with smoldering, heavy eyes. He waited for me to guide him, then filled me with one long, powerful thrust.

The sights and sounds around me became a blur as the knot in my stomach wound tighter with each passing minute. It built fiercely until I felt the spasm of satisfaction begin to wrack my body. Liam groaned against my ear as his body shuddered as well.

We just relaxed and enjoyed our post-coital moment. I loved being in his arms. Maybe more than I should. But as much as I liked the protective feel of resting my head against his chest, I was afraid my mother would come back and catch me in the act.

“Lemme guess,” Liam said with humor as I rolled away from him. “Mommy?”

“Shush,” I said before planting a kiss on his lips. “I’m already drowning in sex and my mother issues. Don’t make it worse.”

I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a cami. I like the feel of yoga pants. I do not like yoga. Too many pretzel-shaped movements and besides, who can find their center with one leg twisted around the other?

I found Liam in the living room, putting the DVD in the player. “Oh hell, no,” I said.

“Don’t worry. This is a pixelated copy.”

“What?”

“I had a friend blur the background so you don’t actually see the sex.”

“Why don’t we eat dinner instead?”

He smiled at me. “Dinner and a movie?”

“Funny man,” I said sarcastically as I went to the oven and took out the piccata.

He came up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist. “We could always have sex again.”

“We will. Just not tonight.”

He kissed the top of my head, then stepped back.

“Smells great. Did your mother make it?”

“My mother can make a martini.”

“So you learned your cooking skills from her?”

“I can cook,” I huffed. “I just chose not to. And you should-” My phone rang and grabbed the receiver.

“Fin?”

“What’s wrong?” I asked Becky. I’d never heard her voice shake like that.

“Can you come to Jupiter Hospital? I was in an accident.”

I
left Liam
in the waiting area as a nurse showed me to Becky’s exam area. When I saw her, I tilted my head to one side and let out a short breath. She had a small square of gauze high up on her hairline and some dried blood on the neckline of her dress. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “The attack of the airbag,” she said, gently exploring the bandage with her fingertips. “Four stitches and an ugly scar on my face.”

I gave her a hug. “Your hair will cover it,” I reassured her. “What happened?”

Before she could answer the curtain fluttered open and Liv and Jane came rushing in. Worry registered on their faces. Liv’s perfume replaced the scent of sterile hospital. We’d been friends for years, even though she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. She had dark hair and eyes that were an exotic shade of blue-green. Liv owned her own event planning business and was very successful. Jane was successful, too. Though she and Liv were polar opposites in the wardrobe department. Liv dripped designers while Jane tended to wear body-huggiing leather and lace. I didn’t know another accountant who looked like one of the Pussycat Dolls. Jane worked out maniacally, so she had the body to carry-off her revealing outfits without looking slutty.

“Are you okay?” Liv asked.

“Yep.”

“What happened?” I asked again.

“Some asshole cut me off on I-95 and I ended up going off the road and hitting a tree. My car is toast.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I insisted. “You can get another car. We can’t get another you.”

Always practical, Jane asked, “Was the other driver insured?”

“I have no idea. The bastard didn’t even stop.”

“Did you get a license plate?”

Becky looked at Liv. “Uh, it happened really fast.”

I asked, “So nothing?”

She shook her head again. “It was a big, dark car. That’s all I’ve got.”

My mind immediately went to the suspicious, dark car parked on my street last night. I was being crazy. The two couldn’t possibly be related. Obviously I was dangerously low on caffeine.

We stayed until Becky got her discharge papers, then agreed that it made more sense for Liv and Jane to drive Becky home since they were going in that direction. I went back out to the waiting area to reclaim Liam. He was watching the silent Marlins game on the television mounted high on the wall.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“Coupla stitches. Probably a bad headache.”

As we drove back to my place, I told Liam all about the computer back trace. “Have you ever heard the name Gerald Cavanaugh?”

“No. But he shouldn’t be hard to find. I can log into my databases from your place and we can check him out. What about the photos?” he asked.

“Four out of five. The butler’s picture isn’t there.”

“So what’s your take on Deacon?”

I shrugged. “Seems okay. He’s the kind of man my mother marries.”

“And what kind is that?”

“Rich and twenty-plus years her senior. If he doesn’t ask for a prenup, I say he’s in.”

Liam chuckled. “That’s cold.”

“That’s Cassidy. My mother is a creature of habit and she has a habit of marrying rich older men. How do you think she’s able to pay the blackmail?”

“Must be nice to have that much money to piss away.”

“I wouldn’t know. She controls the trust Jonathan left me and since I’ve inspired her ire, I’m living off what Dane-Lieberman pays me.”

“Which isn’t exactly chump change,” Liam said.

“You know my salary?”

He shrugged and took one hand off the wheel and placed it on my knee. “I have a ballpark idea.”

As we drove, I was reminded of my mother’s many questions I’d been unable to answer, so I decided now was as good a time as any to learn a little more about Liam. “Where did you go to college?”

“U of F. Why?”

“I don’t know. It just feels like you know more about me than I know about you. Family?”

“Dad’s dead. My mother lives in Ocala. I have a brother and a sister who lives in Hawaii with her husband and four kids. What else?”

He seemed amused and I felt like a fool. I immediately banished my mother’s questions from my head. Well, there was one lingering question that had nothing to do with my mother. I wanted to know why he was still attached to his ex-wife. Such a congenial relationship in the face of divorce was just baffling to me.

“Nothing,” I said. Just then we turned onto my street. “That’s the car!” I practically yelled when I saw the dark sedan parked on the side of the road.

Liam slowed and steered the Mustang toward the back of the car. The minute he did, the car turned its headlights on and screeched forward. Liam stayed on the car’s tail.

I braced my hands on the dashboard as the car zoomed up to nearly sixty miles an hour in a thirty-five mile an hour zone. “Be careful,” I called over a pounding rush of adrenaline. We tailed the car up and down side streets until it turned on to Okeechobee and picked up speed. Liam was undeterred, sticking close to the other car.

The driver weaved in and out of traffic, which was blissfully light this time of the night. He dangerously swerved in between cars and at one point, even drove along the shoulder of the road as he neared the on ramp to I-95.

Before he could reach the exit, lights flashed, bells sounded and the safety arms at the railroad crossing started to fall.

“Got ya,” Liam said as he stayed with the erratic driver.

The car slowed to a crawl and before I could process it, the drivewr’s hand came out of the window and then I heard a succession of pops and pings. I ducked as I realized he was shooting at us.

“Stay down!” Liam yelled as he reached in front of me and retrieved a gun from his glove compartment.

For some idiotic reason I lifted my head to get a peek at the action. Liam was bobbing and weaving as he stuck his weapon out of the window to return fire. I heard another, louder series of pops and then tasted the acrid smell of gunpowder.

The other driver reacted by snaking through the railroad stop as a locomotive blared its horn. A few seconds later, a long freight train blocked the way.

“Son of a bitch,” Liam cursed.

A second later the situation got worse. Police cars came racing toward us.

“Let me do the talking,” Liam said as he switched his hold on the gun so it was hooked by the trigger, dangling from one finger and fully visible to the officers. He cut the engine.

“Driver! Throw the weapon out of the car! Let me see your hands!”

Liam cooperated fully.

“Driver, open the door with your left hand and exit the vehicle.”

Once Liam was out of the car, a large deputy came up and slammed him against the car, slapping Liam’s hands to the roof of the Mustang.

“Passenger! Let me see your hands!”

I quickly stuck my arms out the car window. Oh joy, I was going to have a mug shot in yoga pants and limp hair.

Another cruiser pulled up just as I was placed against the car and another deputy patted me down.

“Hey, McGarrity,” the newly arrived deputy greeted. He placed his nightstick back in his utility belt.

“Frank,” Liam returned.

“It’s okay,” the deputy told his comrades. “I can vouch for him.”

The deputy guarding me asked, “Are you sure, Lieutenant?”

“Yep. I’ll take care of things.”

The original officers went back to their cruiser and quickly left the scene. I walked around the car and stood next to Liam. He placed a protective arm around my shoulders. I was still shaking.

“A shoot out?” the lieutenant asked, one brow cocked.

“Road rage,” Liam answered. “The asshole shot my car.” He pointed toward a small hole in the front quarter panel.

“Did you get a plate on this asshole?”

“No. Sorry.”

“I –” Liam squeezed my shoulder. “Didn’t get it either.”

The officer shrugged. “Want to write it up?”

Liam shook his head. “Guy’s long gone. No point.”

“Pick up your weapon.”

Liam retrieved his gun from the pavement. “Thanks, Frank.”

“No problem,” he shook Liam’s hand. “Stay safe, bro.”

“You, too.”

I still had Jell-O knees when I walked back to the Mustang. As soon as Liam got into the driver’s seat I asked, “Why did you lie? I got the license plate.”

“So did I,” he said as he started the car and then made a sharp U-turn to head back to my place. “But if that was the blackmailer, we promised your mother no cops.”

“I’m okay breaking that promise,” I insisted. “I think she’s nuts for placing her trust in the hope of this being the end of it.”

When we got back to my house, the Jag, the Bentley and my Mercedes were all in the driveway. I was still shaky from the shootout at the railroad crossing. And I was even more resolute in thinking this blackmail thing was getting out of hand.