Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Be careful.” Hailey’s voice is soft.
“Always am.”
I grab the axe and head back out into the cold.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hailey
The door closes behind Knox, and I hear the crunch of his boots through the snow. Then the thwack of the axe, steady and rhythmic. I’m still pressed against Liam’s chest, his arms wrapped around me, both of us cocooned in blankets. My shivering has finally stopped. Warmth seeps back into my fingers, my toes, the tip of my nose that was numb ten minutes ago.
Neither of us moves.
His heartbeat is steady under my ear. That familiar rhythm I used to fall asleep to in cramped hotel rooms and safe houses across Europe. I’d forgotten how it felt to be held by him. How safe. How known.
“Your hair smells like woodsmoke,” he murmurs against the top of my head.
“Everything smells like woodsmoke. We’ve been living in a chimney for five days.”
His chest vibrates with a quiet laugh. His hand moves up my back, slow, tracing the line of my spine through my shirt. Not sexual. Just . . . present. Grounding.
“He knew,” Liam says. “Knox. That we needed this.”
“He’s perceptive that way.”
“He’s in love with you.”
I lift my head to look at him. His brown eyes are soft, no jealousy in them. Just observation.
“I know,” I say.
“Are you in love with him?”
The question should feel loaded. It doesn’t. Maybe because we’re past the point where jealousy makes sense. Maybe because the three of us have already crossed every line there was to cross.
“Yes,” I admit. “But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
Liam’s hand cups my face. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, tracing down to the corner of my mouth. “Five years,” he says quietly. “You ever going to tell me why?”
I turn my face into his palm, pressing a kiss there. His skin is warm now, no longer frozen.
“I was scared, Liam.” My voice isn’t steady and I don’t try to make it. “I woke up that morning and I could see the rest of it. Another job, another city, another hotel room. And I loved you too much to watch it turn into something I resented. So I ran.”
“A note. That’s what I got.”
“I know.”
“You should have talked to me.”
“You would have talked me out of it.”
Silence. Outside, the steady rhythm of Knox splitting wood.
“Yeah,” he says finally. “I would have.”
His other hand comes up, cradling my face between both palms. He looks at me like he’s memorizing every detail. Like I might disappear if he blinks.
“I never stopped,” he says. “Wanting you. Thinking about you. Every job I took, every city I landed in, I’d see something and think, ‘Hailey would love this’ or ‘Hailey would hate this’ or just . . . ‘Hailey.’ ”
My throat tightens. “Liam—”
“I looked for you. Eight months. Every alias, every contact, every city you ever mentioned wanting to see. You covered your tracks too well.” His mouth twists. “I’d taught you too well.”
All this time. All this time I thought he’d read that note and shrugged and moved on to the next job. That I was easy to let go of.
“I thought you let me go,” I whisper.
“I know you did.” His voice cracks on the words. “I know.”
He takes my chin in his hand, tilts my face up, and nips at my lip. Soft. Almost a question.
“If I told you I’m staying,” he says against my mouth. “That you can’t get rid of me again . . .”
I pull back just enough to see his eyes. The sincerity there makes my chest ache.
“You’d have to mean it,” I say. “Actually mean it. Not just until the job is done or until things get complicated.”
His thumb traces my lower lip. “I mean it.”
“You should hate me,” I say. “For how I did it. Disappearing. You deserved more than that.”
“I did.” He says it flat, no softening. “But you were right about the life. I wouldn’t have stopped. Not for you, not for anyone. Took me a long time to figure out that I wanted to.”
I push up onto my elbow, looking down at him.
He doesn’t meet my eyes. His hand is still on my hip, but his grip has loosened.
“Liam.”
He looks at me. There’s something in his face I’ve never seen before. Fear, maybe. Or shame.
“The diamond,” he says slowly. “The Kedrov job. There were things I didn’t tell you.”
My stomach drops. “What things?”
“I can’t—” He stops himself, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Not yet. But I will. I promise, Hailey, I’ll tell you everything. Just . . . not today. Let me figure out how first.”
I should push. Every instinct I have screams to demand answers right now, to force him to tell me whatever he’s been hiding for five years. But there’s something in his eyes—something desperate and pleading—that makes me hesitate.