22. Kate

Ilie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my heart rate returning to normal after being awakened by Liam’s yelling, ”No!”

Hearing it, I jumped out of bed, running to the door. As I reached it, I considered danger was upon us and I shouldn”t run out into it. After listening for a moment and not hearing anything more, I quietly opened the door and peered out. Liam sat on the couch looking so lost. My instinct had been to go to him, but I knew he”d only push me away.

He reassured me that everything was all right, and so I went back to bed, and here I lie, playing out the scene in my head. Did he have a nightmare? A part of me thinks that someone like Liam, who can kill without a second thought, wouldn”t have the conscience to have nightmares. Then again, perhaps living the life he leads would make him even more prone to nightmares.

There is a part of me that wants to soothe him if he was having a nightmare. Or maybe it”s just the fear and loneliness that has me wanting to be physically close to him. To feel the strength of his arms around me, protecting me, caring for me. It was the urge I had when he entered my room earlier and told me about his life growing up in the Bratva. How he”d been the presumptive heir to the throne or whatever was at the top of the Bratva hierarchy.

For some reason, he initially chose a different path. It”s unclear to me why he did so. I get the feeling that he doesn”t know, either. From what he explained, it sounds like his involvement in the Mafia came because of his loyalty to Niko, a friend since childhood. I suppose his loyalty to a lifelong friend is admirable, although that”s probably just me trying to justify his becoming a criminal.

Liam said that everything he”d done since he met me was to protect me, and there”s a part of me that wants to embrace that idea. What woman wouldn”t love the idea of a protective warrior willing to do anything, to sacrifice everything for the woman he loves? But Liam doesn”t love me. I”d argue that he doesn”t know love except he clearly has attachments to Niko and Donovan.

You can wish I’d never fucked you or implanted that baby in you. But never question my motives. You are the only reason I’m doing any of this. You.

His words come back to me, and I press my hand over my belly as the shock of his language tears through me again. When I first heard them, the devastation they caused made me realize that I hoped the idea of the baby might change him. I recognize now that the man I met when I first went into Witness Protection was a cover, a mask, not the real Liam Rostova. Knowing that should rid him from my heart, but it doesn”t. Deep inside, I long for him. I wonder if that’s how it was for Elena. She fell for her captor. Is there a psychological part of me that needs fixing so I can stop wanting him?

It takes a while, but finally, I fall asleep. As dreams overtake me, I feel the presence of my father. It”s almost as if he is sitting on the edge of the bed and taking my hand as he did when I was a little girl and had a nightmare.

”Where are you?” I ask.

”I”m right here, baby girl.”

”Where? You”ve been gone for so long.”

He squeezes my hand. ”I”m always here with you, baby girl.”

I can”t make sense of his words because I haven”t seen him in almost a year. I”ve been told he”s probably dead, but probably doesn’t mean certainly, and so I hold out hope. It”s probably why I haven”t grieved.

”Are you dead, Dad?”

”Not as long as I”m in your heart.”

I can”t help but think that means he is dead. I heard a saying once that went something like we die twice, the first time at our physical death, and the second time at the death of the last person who remembers us. I don”t know what makes me think of that except that perhaps I’ll be the last person to remember my father. Even my child won”t know him. I feel guilty at the thought that maybe it”s best he won”t meet my child. Not if he”s like Liam. Not if he”s bad.

”Did you do the things they said you did?” I ask.

He looks down, as if in shame. But then he lifts his head, his gaze straight on me. ”Everything I”ve done since the day you were born has been for you.”

His words fill me with anger. ”Liam says the same thing to justify killing people.”

He”s quiet for a moment. ”Tell me, baby girl, where is the line that you would draw in protecting your child? Under what circumstances would you step aside and let your child die?”

”I will do anything to protect my baby.”

His brow arches. ”Even kill?”

I swallow hard, understanding what he”s getting at, but I also know the situations aren’t the same. ”I”m not going to go out and start murdering people for a criminal business. But if he were in danger, I’d do anything including give my life.”

His smile is bittersweet. ”And somehow, you think that situation is different from me. Or even Liam.”

”You were involved in organized crime, Dad. You”re the one who put yourself and me in danger.”

His eyes turn sad. ”That”s not true, baby girl. I was no saint. The law had gray areas for me, but going over to the dark side only happened the minute your future was threatened.”

Is that true? I”m dreaming, and so perhaps all this is wishful thinking. That my dad was forced to help the Mafia and didn’t go willingly like Liam did.

“Like you, there”s nothing I wouldn”t do to protect you. When it comes to those we love, there”s nothing we wouldn”t do.”

My thinking about my father shifts. It brings up questions that I have to ask Liam or maybe Niko about. They”re not necessarily new questions, only questions I”d been afraid to ask because I didn”t want to know if my father had been bad. My thoughts around Liam don”t shift at all because there’s one glaring difference between my father and Liam. Liam doesn”t love me. He might be protecting me, but it’s not out of love.

”I wouldn”t be so sure of that, baby girl.”

I frown because I know I didn”t speak my thought out loud. This is a dream, I remind myself. It”s not real.

”I”m not proud of what I did, but I don”t regret doing it. I’d do it again in a minute if it meant keeping you safe. Knowing that in my last desperate act, you were protected.”

”What does that mean? What did you do?”

He rises from the bed, and desperation fills me that he”s going to leave. ”Liam is not so different from me. Try not to be too hard on him.” My father”s image shimmers and dissipates.

”Dad, don”t go. Please don”t leave me.”

But he’s gone. I’m alone.

I shudder at the feeling, rolling over and snuggling deeper into the blankets as if they’ll offer the warmth and protection I’m needing. Eventually, I fall asleep.

When I wake in the morning, the dream is still with me, vivid, almost like it was real. But it wasn”t real, I tell myself. Dreams are more like wishful thinking than reality.

I rise from bed and go into the ensuite bathroom to take a shower. I tug on a pair of leggings and a tunic top. I comb out my long hair, leaving it down to dry au naturale. I stare at myself in the mirror, psyching myself up for whatever”s about to come. Is Liam going to load me in the car and move me somewhere else again? Are gunmen going to surround the place and burn it down like they did to his cabin? I understand now that I need to be prepared for any of it, for all of it.

When I exit the bedroom, I find Liam staring out the back window with a mug in one hand and a phone in the other.

”Only you, Robbie, or Artyom. Understood? No one else comes to the door. I’ll kill anyone who comes that isn’t you or Artyom.”

I shut my eyes at the brutal reminder of the man Liam is. I make a beeline to the kitchen to see what, if anything beyond coffee, is available for breakfast.

I find tea and a mug. After filling the mug with water, I set it in the microwave.

”Groceries will be arriving shortly,” Liam says.

I keep my eyes on the microwave, watching as the mug goes around the carousel. ”Does that mean we’re staying?”

”Unless you have any objection to this place. I know it”s small, but?—”

”I don”t have an objection.”

He”s quiet, and I imagine his jaw is tight at the curtness of my tone. I feel more than hear him leave.

When the microwave dings, I take the mug out and plop the tea bag into the hot water. I pick it up and go to sit at the table except I bypass it and go to the living area where Liam once again is staring out the window.

”What can you tell me about my father?” It appears that deep down, I want these answers now.

Liam turns, his brow arched, clearly not expecting that question. “What brought this up?”

What does it matter? Is this a topic he wants to avoid? “I had a dream about him. Whatever he did, he was a good father, and I owe it to him to learn the truth.”

He runs his fingers through his dark hair. ”Honestly, Kate, I don”t know what happened to your father. I only know?—”

”I don”t mean that. I know he”s dead. I want to know how he got involved. What was he thinking? You were in the FBI. Maybe you were a mole, or you were there only for your criminal friends, but you had to know something.”

He looks down into his coffee for a moment, and I get the feeling he doesn”t like how I characterized his time in the FBI.

He lets out a long sigh and then points over to the couch. ”Why don’t you sit? I”ll tell you what I know, which isn”t a whole hell of a lot.”

Being told to sit down makes it sound like I’m going to hear something I don’t like. But I already know that’s the case, so I sit, cradling my mug of tea in my hands to ward off the chill spreading from my spine.

”Your father was a good man, Kate. But even good men can be pushed into darkness.”

Was Liam talking from experience? Had he been good and pushed into darkness?

I push the question away knowing the answer is no. Liam has always been in darkness.