Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Becks

B ecks trailed a step behind Liam as they wove through one of the bustling bazaars of Istanbul, her senses alive with the cacophony of haggling voices and the heady combination of scents that hung in the air. She kept close, knowing the importance of their seamless facade. They moved as one entity, a pair bound by a mission whose roots were as ancient as the city itself.

"Left here," she murmured, touching the small of his back lightly, guiding him through the throng with a familiarity that belied the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The brush of her fingers was light but deliberate, an unspoken communication of their shared purpose—and the trust that had grown between them.

Liam nodded, barely glancing at her as they turned into a narrower alleyway. His voice was low, the brogue softened by a polished, upper-class British accent he used when he needed it, yet it rumbled with an authority that sent a shiver down her spine. In their game of shadows, he was the dominant lead, a protector forged from necessity and the kind of raw strength that could not be assumed, only earned.

"Karim said it was here." Becks stopped before a decrepit wall, its stones telling tales of a time long forgotten. Her fingers traced the contours of an almost invisible seam, the ancient language of those who had come before, flowing through her mind like a river breaking free from a dam. “Here,” she said quietly triumphant.

"Good eye," Liam acknowledged, his hand resting atop hers for a moment, warmth seeping into her skin. He pushed against the stone; it gave way with a quiet groan, revealing the gaping maw of a hidden catacomb below.

"Watch your step," he warned, descending first into the darkness. The catacombs swallowed them whole as they navigated the tight corridors and skeletal remains of a world suspended in time.

"Over here," Becks beckoned, her voice echoing softly against the cold walls. She crouched next to a faded inscription, the words a puzzle only she could decipher.

"Anything?" Liam's presence loomed behind her, his body heat a flame that contrasted with the chill of their surroundings.

"Patience, O'Shea." Becks couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "It's a cipher—a map of sorts." Her heart pounded with the thrill of the chase. When had she become an adrenaline junkie? Each symbol unlocked another step closer to the truth. But she felt his gaze on her, intense and unyielding, reminding her that in this tangle of history and intrigue, they were utterly alone.

As dusk fell, they emerged from the catacombs, the setting sun casting a golden hue over the city. A small group of people approached them, and Liam pressed her gently against a weathered wall in order to shield her with his body. The group moved past without even noticing them, but Liam didn’t move.

"Becks," he breathed out, his voice husky as his hands moved up her sides. There was an urgency in his touch, a need that mirrored her own. His hands, calloused from years of service, now explored her curves with a tenderness that made her ache.

"Liam," she gasped as his mouth found the tender spot on her neck, his kiss branding her. The contrast of the dominant man seeking solace in her embrace was intoxicating. Their encounter was fiery, a tempest of emotion and desire that threatened to consume them both.

"Becks," he said again, his forehead resting against hers, their breath mingling. "We can't… at least not here in the market.” His voice was edged with need.

"I know," she murmured, her eyes locked with his. “I know.” In that moment, she saw the vulnerability he so deftly concealed, the scars of past betrayals etched in his body and spirit. She wanted to soothe them, to claim him as her own even as danger prowled just beyond the safety of their temporary haven.

The passion that flared between them was a living thing, fierce and unapologetic. Yet as they clung to each other, they understood the bitter tang of their liaison. They were two souls entwined by fate and circumstance where passion met peril.

"When this is over," he murmured against her lips, a vow fraught with the uncertainty of their lives.

"When this is over," she echoed, sealing their promise with a kiss that tasted of sweet longing and the unspoken fear that dawn might bring a reality in which they had no future whatsoever.

The stillness outside the ancient catacomb shattered as a shot ricocheted off the worn stone wall, mere inches from Becks' head. She ducked instinctively, her heart hammering in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The dimly lit alleyway was suddenly alive with the echoes of their assailants’ footsteps.

"Move!" Liam's command cut through the chaos, a steel edge to his voice that brooked no argument. He grabbed her hand, and they fled, the intimate touch a stark contrast to the violence erupting around them.

They burst into the streets of Istanbul, their breath ragged, the night air sharp against their skin. The city’s ancient heartbeat thrummed beneath their feet, the cobblestones slick with the remnants of a recent rain and secrets of centuries long past.

"Left—down that alley!" Becks directed. Liam looked at her. “I spent several summers here studying.” Her knowledge of the city's snaking alleys momentarily gave them an edge. They darted down the narrow passage, the clatter of pursuit a relentless drumbeat at their backs.

"Keep up!" Liam's grasp tightened around her wrist, his protection a tangible force, guiding her when panic clawed at her resolve. His presence, a dominant force amidst the disarray, anchored her.

"Trying!" she gasped, her legs pumping as furiously as her mind, trying to stay one step ahead of the man following them, knowing his ruthless nature left no room for mistakes.

"Here." Liam's hand slipped from hers to her back, pushing her forward, directing her through what seemed to be a hidden entrance to an alleyway, a forgotten relic of the city's past.

"Dead end," she breathed, panic lacing her words as they came upon a high wall.

"Up," he ordered tersely, boosting her with his hands before scaling the wall himself with athletic grace. They were on the rooftops now, the skyline a jagged silhouette against the moonlit sky.

"Where to?" she panted, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart.

"Follow my lead," he replied, taking point as they leaped from roof to roof, the precarious drops to the streets below a stark reminder of the stakes.

The pursuit was relentless, Sokolov’s men dogged in their chase, bullets whizzing by as a cacophony of shouts filled the air. Liam returned fire with the gun he’d managed to smuggle past customs with a well-placed bribe. His protective instincts melded with a deadly precision that underscored the danger they faced.

"Be careful!" she called out, her concern for him a sharp pang amidst the terror.

"Always am," he shot back, a wry smile flickering across his features.

Their path took them to an window, the glass shattering under Liam's boot, the sound lost in the din of the chase. They stumbled into the darkened confines of a deserted building, the air thick with dust and history.

"Can't keep running forever," Becks said, a tremor in her voice, her academic poise stripped away by the raw fear of being hunted.

"We won't have to," Liam reassured her, his eyes scanning the darkness, strategizing their next move.

"I trust you," she murmured, her faith in him unshaken even as the perilous dance continued.

"Good," Liam replied, his gaze locking onto hers, the connection between them electric and undeniable, even as the specter of death began to close in.

They left the relative safety of the building, blending in with a small group of pedestrians heading for the main street. She felt Liam’s presence close behind her, his steady hand brushing the small of her back.

“Keep moving,” Liam murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’m trying,” Becks shot back, her tone sharper than intended.

“Left,” Liam said abruptly, steering her down a side alley that took them to a busier street. The sudden shift disoriented their pursuers for a moment, but Becks knew it wouldn’t last. Liam flagged down a taxi with a sharp whistle, the car screeching to a halt just as the first shout rang out behind them.

“Go!” Becks hissed, throwing open the door and sliding in, Liam right behind her. The driver hesitated, his eyes flicking to the approaching men.

“Airport,” Liam ordered, pressing a wad of cash into the driver’s hand. The man’s reluctance vanished, and the taxi lurched forward into the Istanbul traffic.

Becks twisted in her seat to look out the back window. Two men were pushing through the crowd, their focus locked on the taxi. One of them pulled out a phone, barking into it.

“They’ll have people at the airport,” she said, her voice tight. “This isn’t over.”

“It never is,” Liam said, his tone almost casual. He reached across the seat to take her hand, his grip firm and grounding. “But we’ll handle it.”

She wanted to believe him. The heat of his hand in hers was a comfort she couldn’t afford to dwell on. She looked at him, taking in the sharp line of his jaw, the determination in his eyes. For a moment, the chaos outside the taxi faded, replaced by startling clarity: if she had to face this, there was no one she’d rather have at her side.

The taxi weaved through traffic, the driver muttering curses in Turkish as he narrowly avoided a collision with a motorbike. The taxi screeched to a stop outside the airport, and Liam handed the driver another stack of cash. “Forget you ever saw us,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They slipped out of the taxi and into the throng of travelers, their movements quick but deliberate. Becks could feel the weight of unseen eyes on them, the tension in the air like a coiled spring as he directed her toward the service entrance. They weaved through the maze of luggage, parts and people, managing to go unchallenged until they exited out onto the tarmac to catch their plane.

Having managed to avoid any kind of security, they joined the last group of passengers trudging up the flight deck and entered the plane.

The drone of the plane’s engines filled Becks’ ears as she leaned back, feigning relaxation. They’d barely made it out of Istanbul and were now headed to Lyon. The tension clung to her like a second skin. She could feel Liam beside her, his steady presence helping to take the edge off. The man was a loaded gun, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to aim him at her enemies or keep him for herself.

A glance at the cabin showed a group of businessmen absorbed in their phones, a mother rocking a baby two rows up, and a few empty seats scattered toward the back. Innocent enough, if she didn’t know better.

Becks felt Liam’s arm brush hers, a light contact, but it sent a surge of arousal through her system. She shot him a sidelong glance. He was watching the cabin just as closely, his gaze dark and dangerous. It always amazed her how easily he shifted between softness and steel. He caught her eye, and his mouth curved into a faint, knowing smile.

“Relax, baby. We’ve got this,” he murmured, voice low, dripping with irony.

Becks snorted, giving him a pointed look. “We’ve got nothing. I feel like we know less now than we did before. And why Lyon? Why not Berlin or Paris?”

“Ahh, there’s nothing like a transcontinental flight with a target on our backs,” he quipped. “Why not Berlin? They’ll be waiting for us there. Why not Paris? Probably the same. Why Lyon? Because that’s where Interpol is headquartered, and we’ve got friends there. Cerberus has worked with Sophie Dubois in the past; she’s a cop in Lyon; we can trust her.” He took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss. “Besides, it could be worse.”

“Could it?” She arched a brow, feigning calm even as her heart drummed a steady, reckless rhythm. “We’ve got at least two shadows trailing us—maybe three if the interest of that steward two rows down is anything to go on.”

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “That why you chose the window seat?”

Becks kept her expression level. “Wanted you to have a better view of the crowd.”

His grin widened. “Good girl.”

The charged tension grew heavy with the unspoken implications surrounding them. Her gaze darted to the exit row, mentally counting the steps. If they needed to make a quick escape once they landed, she’d rather not waste time. But planning ahead was useless if they didn’t make it that far.

“You see him?” she asked, her voice barely audible, nodding toward the aisle.

Liam’s eyes shifted, a subtle flick of dark lashes. “Back row, three seats down. Pretending to read a newspaper.”

“Classic,” she muttered, crossing one leg over the other in a way that brought her thigh closer to his. “Think he’ll make a move before we touch down?”

“Maybe. He’s one of Sokolov’s men—one of the ones who tried to kill us in Istanbul.” His fingers brushed hers, the contact sparking a heat that contrasted sharply with the danger looming just a few feet away. “But he doesn’t have a clue how brave and capable you are.”

Becks smirked, a thrill tightening in her chest. “You think he’s watching me?”

His eyes darkened, drifting from her face to her mouth with unmistakable interest. “Absolutely. You’re ever so much prettier than I am.”

“You don’t think I can handle him?”

“I think if you try doing it without me, you may well find it difficult to sit down when we get back to London.”

“Do you think we’ll get back home?” she asked almost wistfully.

“Count on it. I have all kinds of plans for you when we get back to London. I am going to be the envy of every other Dom at Baker Street.”

Feeling foolish for even caring in their current circumstances, she asked, “Does that mean you want to scene with me at the club?”

He turned to look at her, his eyes searching her face. “I don’t just tie up any ole girl on a train and fuck her silly. You want a custom corset? That’s not a problem, but it goes along with a collar.”

Stunned, Becks, gasped, “You’re asking me if I’d accept a collar from you?”

Never in her life had she imagined wanting to be collared by any man, and now it sounded like the most romantic thing in the world.

“No,” he said evenly, and she felt like she’d been punched in the gut. He shook his head. “Part of me says I ought to put you over my knee, bare your pretty ass, and spank it red in front of all of these very vanilla types. And the other part says I haven’t made myself or my intentions clear, but I get a pass on that because we’ve been a little busy trying to save the world. So, I wasn’t asking you if you’d accept a collar from me; I was telling you I was going to put one around your very pretty neck and declare you off the market.”

Sitting back and stupidly feeling happier than she could remember feeling in a long time, she grinned, and said, “Anything else I should know, Master?”

That made him smile. “Yeah, there’ll be a ring coming your way in the near future.”

She wrapped both her arms around the one of his closest to her. “I’m awfully happy to hear that. Would you mind me telling you that I think I’ve fallen in love with you?”

“You think or you know? You need to be definitive about these things, and yes, I would mind very much if you said that.”

She was fairly sure he was just giving her a hard time. “Why?”

“Because I’m old school, baby, and I believe the guy should say it first.”

“So do you?”

“I’m talking about a ring and a collar.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean love, and I need to hear it.”

Liam groaned. “God, you’re a sucker for the romantic shit, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He laughed. “Fine then. I’m not sure how or when, but unlike some people in this relationship, I am quite sure that I absolutely know I am in love with you. Happy?”

“More so than I have ever been. Now, could you do one more little thing for me?”

“Name it.”

“Keep us both alive so we can live that future.”

“Done,” he said, cupping her head with his hand and kissing her deeply.

They shared a quiet moment where she could actually believe they’d live to see that future. And then, the man with the newspaper was folding it, rising from his seat, his gaze sharp, predatory.

“Stay here, Becks. You wait for me.”

In an instant, Liam was on his feet, the sharpness in his gaze returning as he moved down the aisle, drawing the man’s attention. The man she’d never seen as anything but graceful, stumbled, reaching down for the small blade he kept in his boot under his jeans. Liam had managed to smuggle it onboard by avoiding any kind of security prior to boarding the plane. Pulling it free, he slipped it up and beneath the man’s ribs, straight into his heart. The man gasped briefly, and Liam eased him back into his seat, stuffing a pillow under the dead man’s jacket to stop any blood that might leak out.