Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Liam

T he sharp rap of knuckles on wood pulled Liam O’Shea from the contemplation of the Cornwall Terrace Mews and Regent’s Park just beyond. His gaze drifted from the glass pane to the conference room door. Fitz stood there, as always, impeccably dressed and inscrutable.

"Got a new assignment for you," Fitz announced without preamble, striding into the room with a file in hand, the urgency in his step belying the calm in his voice.

Liam's old military discipline seamlessly kicked in. "Details?" he asked, his tone low and even.

"Dr. Rebecca Ashworth," Fitz said, tossing the file onto Liam's desk. He recognized the name, and that recognition ignited a memory that was as exhilarating as it was disconcerting.

"Becks?" Liam's eyes narrowed slightly, his pulse quickening as he recalled the last time he'd seen her, bound and yielding on the St. Andrew's Cross. Her black hair, the color of a raven’s wing, had been pulled to one side and secured over her shoulder. "Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

Fitz's lips quirked in a knowing grin. "Not if I say it isn’t, which I do. You're a professional, aren't you? Besides, she's stumbled into something, and I fear she’s way in over her head. She disagrees, of course…"

“Of course,” chuckled Liam, believing Fitz was referring to his wife and some of the antics she got into. "Not really a surprise considering Becks likes to hang around JJ and Olivia." JJ was Fitz’s wife and sub, and Olivia was Lord Nigel Pederson’s, who had left MI6 to join Cerberus several years ago. The image of Becks’ naked, graceful, curvy figure on the cross, rushed to the fore. She was said to be highly intelligent and good at her job. A dangerous combination, indeed.

"Keep your head in the game, O’Shea." Fitz warned. "She might have played sub to your Dom here at the club, but this is different. This is the real world."

"I thought you always said the lifestyle was the ‘real world,’” Liam replied. “But I understand what you’re saying.” His voice betrayed none of the turmoil within. He opened the file and scanned its contents, his mind already shifting gears from the sensual haze of their previous encounter to the stark reality of the threat at hand. Becks' face stared up at him from the photograph clipped to the dossier, her expression serious, absorbed. It was a look he recognized all too well—the focus of a woman who never saw peril coming because she was too engrossed in her passion.

"Whatever she's found has some very bad people looking for her," Fitz continued, his tone grave.

"Then I'll make sure they don't find her," Liam stated, the words more vow than assurance. If his job was to protect her, any personal history would have to be locked away, compartmentalized. He'd do what was necessary. After all, when it came to safeguarding her, duty and desire were two sides of the same coin—a currency whose trade was all too familiar to Liam.

Liam watched her from afar for the remainder of the day, observing how she moved from lecture hall to the library to her office and back again. After entering the building, Liam searched the area before pausing outside the door, scanning the hallway a second time and opening it without knocking—a deliberate assertion of his presence—and stepped into her world of academia. She sat behind her desk, surrounded by towering stacks of papers, her focus entirely absorbed by the manuscript before her. Her black hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and for a moment, Liam was struck by the contrast between the Dr. Ashworth who commanded the lecture halls and Becks, who had surrendered to him on the St. Andrew’s Cross.

"Dr. Ashworth," he greeted, his voice a low rumble in the quiet office.

She looked up, her intelligent eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. "By choice, I don’t know your name. I had expected the club to allow me the same anonymity," she responded, her tone revealing her surprise. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Call me Liam," he insisted gruffly, unable to shake off the intimacy they had shared. "And I'm here at Fitzwallace’s request. He feels you are in danger." He crossed the room in three strides, his movements precise and purposeful, stopping just short of her desk.

"Danger?" She tilted her head, the innocence in her gaze clashing with the sharp intellect he knew lay beneath. He wondered if she could really be so astute in her work and yet so blind as to the situation she was now in.

"The messages you’re translating?"

“How do you know about that?”

“That’s not important,” Liam said, his tone carrying a tinge of frustration. He unfolded his arms, placing his hands on her desk and leaning forward. "You're in danger, and my job is to protect you."

"Protect me?" Her lips parted, and she blinked, as if the concept was foreign to her. "From what, exactly?"

"From those who would kill to keep their secrets buried," he stated bluntly, watching as the reality of his words settled on her like a tangible weight. “You can’t really believe you could say something to JJ or Olivia and not have them mention it to those who could keep you safe, can you?”

"I think they’re probably attaching far more significance than is necessary," she said as she stood and moved from behind her desk. She shook her hair. “I don’t believe that. JJ and Olivia overreacted.”

Somehow a bit of the light that had seemed so much a part of her dimmed. He hated that he was the bearer of such darkness to her door. Liam's gaze remained locked on Becks as she began to pace the length of her office, a sanctuary of books and papers that seemed to echo her restless energy. Her hands moved with an elegance that belied their capability.

"I think you should probably leave.” Liam didn’t move. “Did you hear me?" Her voice was sharp, a pointed reminder that they were not in the club; here they were equals and she was refusing to be treated as anything less.

"Every single word," he assured her, his tone low and steady. "Doesn’t matter. You're in danger, Becks."

"I've dealt with threats before," she countered, flicking her hair behind her shoulder with an air of defiance.

"Oxford isn't exactly a hotbed of espionage and violence. Fitz believes you’ve stumbled into something bigger than academic intrigue," Liam said. "Tell me about the translation."

Her violet eyes flickered with a mix of frustration, annoyance and fear. "I was hired anonymously to translate a series of encrypted emails. I thought it was just another routine job." The tremor in her voice betrayed what she'd uncovered. "The content seems to allude to some kind of terrorist plot, but that’s absurd, isn’t it?"

"Where's the client now?" He watched her closely, the tension between them going beyond the physical.

"I… I don’t know," she said quietly, meeting his gaze squarely. "I tried tracking him down, but he seems to have vanished without a trace the moment I sent over my concerns."

"Which means you're the only one who can connect the dots," Liam concluded, his protective instincts flaring to life like a wildfire. "Whoever is behind this—the plot, the disappearance all of it— will want to ensure those dots remain unconnected."

Becks' breath seemed to catch as she came to grips, perhaps for the first time, with the full scope of the danger that might be closing in around her.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Her question indicated she might be willing to accept Cerberus’ assessment of the situation.

Liam reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm in a gesture meant to comfort, yet it seared with the memory of past heat. "Cerberus will keep you safe. Fitz has assigned me, and I’ll protect you, Becks. No matter what it takes."

As he spoke, the world outside her scholarly haven seemed to fade away, but beneath the surface of their connection lay a churning sea of danger, ready to engulf them both.

"Becks," he began, softer this time, "you need to understand the importance of what you've stumbled into. It matches some rumors we’ve heard through our intelligence sources. Your expertise makes you valuable... and vulnerable. We can't take any chances."

"Take chances," she murmured, a crease forming between her brows as she considered his words. She glanced down at her hands, then back up at him through thick lashes. "I don’t need a Dom.”

“Somehow, I doubt that, but we can put that aside unless and until you tell me otherwise. But I will protect you.”

“Your reputation at the club doesn’t peg you for the overprotective type, Liam."

"Only when it’s warranted," he replied, his demeanor softening despite himself. He noted the subtle flush of her cheeks, the quickening of her breath, and the memory of their shared heat flared within him. Swallowing the surge of desire, he reminded himself of the stakes. "You scened with me once; that doesn't mean I'll overlook my responsibilities."

"Is that what this is?" she challenged, a spark igniting in her eyes, revealing a glimpse of the fierce spirit that matched her physical allure. "Responsibility?"

"Partly," he conceded, meeting her gaze. "But there's more at stake than personal entanglements, Becks. This isn't about what happened at the club, it's about keeping you safe.”

"Locking me away in some kind of cage?" she shot back, her defiance a sign of her strong character.

"Interesting idea, but no, it’s about keeping you alive," Liam countered, the intensity of his own conviction resonating between them. "Trust me. And if you can’t do that, trust Fitz and Cerberus to keep you safe."

"Safe?" Becks laughed, a short, disbelieving sound that did nothing to ease the knot growing in Liam's gut. She turned away from him, her hands rifling through papers strewn across her desk—a chaotic contrast to the orderly scholar he knew she was. "I have tenure to consider, Liam. Lectures, students—my life. You can't expect me to drop everything because of some vague threat."

"Vague?" he retorted, his frustration building. "The client who gave you those documents is missing, Becks. Does that sound like a coincidence to you?"

She looked up at him then, her hazel eyes a mix of fire and intellect. "I won't be intimidated into hiding because of something I might have stumbled upon. I'm not built that way."

"Damn it, Rebecca!" Liam swore, the use of her full name a sharp note in the charged atmosphere. His presence all but overwhelmed the small space. Her scent hit him like a physical blow, reminding him of the undeniable attraction that simmered beneath the surface. "Being brave doesn't mean being foolish. You…"

For a long moment, they stood locked in a silent battle of wills, then slowly, she nodded.

"All right, Liam," she said, surrendering to the necessity of the situation. "What do we do next?"

"First, we get you somewhere safe," he answered, his relief palpable. "Then we figure out how deep this rabbit hole goes."

"Lead the way," Becks said, offering a hesitant smile that held more courage than fear.

"Remember, call me Liam," he reminded her, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he turned towards the door, ready to defend her with every skill at his disposal.

“Why?”

“I think if you call me Sir or Master it will raise an awful lot of eyebrows.”

Becks blushed as Liam's hand braced against the mahogany door frame of her office, his eyes scanning the hallway beyond with military precision as he took in every detail that might pose a threat—or an opportunity.

The door at the end of the hall exploded inward, the crash reverberating like a thunderclap. Liam’s hand shot out, yanking Becks down behind her desk just as heavy boots pounded toward them.

“Stay low,” he commanded, his voice taut, body coiled like a spring. His frame shielded hers as the air thickened with tension, each breath laden with the promise of danger.

A single figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the hallway light, a predator hunting its prey. The glint of steel in the intruder’s hand—a knife—gleamed like a warning. Liam’s instincts roared to life.

“Stay here,” he ordered Becks, his tone brooking no argument. He rose with the swiftness of a striking viper, putting himself squarely in the assailant’s path.

The attacker lunged, the blade slashing through the air with lethal intent. Liam sidestepped, his years of training manifesting in fluid, calculated movements. He caught the man’s wrist mid-swing, twisting sharply. The knife clattered to the floor, but the assailant was relentless, following up with a punch aimed at Liam’s jaw.

Liam blocked it, the impact sending a jolt through his arm, and retaliated with a precise strike to the man’s ribs. A grunt of pain escaped the intruder, but he didn’t falter. They grappled, the fight a blur of raw power and honed skill, until Liam slammed the man into the nearest wall with bone-jarring force.

“Becks, move now!” Liam barked, glancing over his shoulder as she hesitated. Her wide eyes met his, but she scrambled to her feet, darting toward the side door.

The attacker surged again, wrenching free and drawing a second weapon from his boot—a small pistol this time. Time slowed. Liam launched forward, his hand closing around the man’s wrist just as the gun fired. The shot went wild, embedding itself in the far wall. With a brutal twist, Liam disarmed him, the weapon tumbling uselessly to the ground.

The intruder staggered but refused to give up. Liam didn’t relent. A sharp blow to the man’s temple finally sent him crashing to the floor, unconscious.

Liam inhaled deeply, trying to catch his breath, as he turned to see Becks standing by the door, her computer bag and purse already hung over her shoulder. He realized that she must have been planning to leave before he showed up. Her complexion was pale, but she didn’t seem as if she was about to panic, but did appear to be determined to get through this.

"Move!" he barked at Becks, his protective instincts flaring as he covered her retreat.

Together, they slipped into the hallway, leaving the wreckage behind. The danger wasn’t over, but they had gained precious seconds. And for now, that was enough.

"Trust me!" Liam said. They were a team now, bound by necessity and perhaps the thread of something deeper that neither had the luxury to explore.

They slipped through a side exit in case there were others waiting at the front or back, their breathing ragged, hearts racing for more reasons than one. As they emerged into the relative safety of the university’s grounds, Liam couldn't help but pull Becks close, ensuring she was indeed real and unharmed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his gaze searching hers for any sign of injury or trauma.

"Thanks to you," she replied, her voice quivering not only with fear but also with a hint of newfound respect. In the face of danger, their connection had deepened and solidified into something neither could deny nor ignore.

"Let's keep moving," Liam said, his voice urgent, but his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary before grasping her hand and pulling her behind him as he dragged them into the shadows to slip away from whomever was chasing them.