16. Jamison

She ran from him.

Flailing and screaming, she woke from the nightmare in time to see Liam half-fall out of the corner chair and rush over.

His attempt to calm the situation was lost on her waking mind, and she darted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Dropping onto the floor, the cold, hard tile brought reality flooding back, and laying there, she slowly came out of her daze.

"Open up."

Rising to a sitting position, she flipped the lock, and Liam inched his head through the crack in the door. "Can I come in?"

Unable to answer, she nodded, and he stepped inside to crouch in front of her.

"Nightmare?"

Being in such an exposed state, she kept her gaze downcast, wanting nothing more than for him to hold her. "It was like the ones I had after Toby, but different."

"Talk to me."

He ran his fingertips down the side of her face, and she didn't stop herself from leaning into the touch.

"We were having sex." She licked her bottom lip, tasting blood from the cut reopening. "I was riding you backwards, and you were bouncing me when—"

"Yeah, okay. I get it." Shifting to sit next to her, he stretched his legs out in front of him. "I'm sorry having sex with me is now considered nightmarish."

She smiled at the joke. "That wasn't the nightmare part."

"Oh, I know." The tightness in his shoulders lessened as they sat side by side, backs on the wall. "If there's one thing in life I know how to do properly, even in dreams, it's how to have sex with you."

"You turned into Michael Sinclair in the middle of it."

"Gross."

His flippant response had her snorting.

"What? You're the one dreaming about having sex with a terrorist."

Punching his shoulder, she went to stand, but ended up in his lap instead. She didn't fight the hold, laying back on his chest and allowing the warmth of his skin to seep into hers.

"I don't want you to hold me." There was no truth to the statement, and they both knew it. "I'm serious. Let me go."

"Not until you listen to me." Moving her hair aside, he propped his chin on her shoulder. "The way Sinclair talked to you during the kidnapping would suggest his motives fall along the lines of obsession."

"What does that mean?"

"That it's only natural to think that he has romantic feelings for you."

She jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow. It didn't do much damage, but it felt good, nonetheless. "I am not attracted to him."

"Never said you were," he replied, only slightly winded from the hit. "I said he had romantic feelings for you."

"He doesn't."

"No, he doesn't." His hot breath tickled her ear. "Sinclair is up to something, and it has nothing to do with you."

"The cuts on my legs and bruises on my arms say otherwise."

Running a hand down her arm, he paused on the largest bruise. "I'm going to kill him for touching you."

Here she was, right back to it. Understanding another human like she did Liam was both a comfort and a curse. The comfort came from being able to be completely free with him, physically and emotionally. The curse was knowing when he spoke an absolute truth.

"You will not." She turned to straddle his thighs. "Since you no longer work for the Bureau, going after Sinclair basically falls under the category of vigilante justice."

"Vigilante justice?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Sounds a bit dramatic. Like an old western."

Being called dramatic was the worst insult he could throw at her, and the jerk knew it. With a growl, she yanked at the tips of his shaggy hair. "Well, you look like you belong in the old west."

"I've had no complaints."

"I bet your mother hates the beard."

"Good thing I'm not dating my mother."

She believed him when he said he wasn't sleeping with Izzy, but he was working for Fairweather Holdings now. Office romances were a dime a dozen, and with thousands of single women at his fingertips, any of them would kill to have a chance with a man like Liam.

Already mentally drafting a memo to send to their entire staff over the importance of keeping their professional life separate from their personal one, she got to her feet. "I want to sleep in Simone's room."

"Hold on." Rising with her, he rummaged through one of the bathroom drawers. "Take two sets. Annabeth wanted to sleep in there, too."

Liam dropped earplugs in her hand, and she stared down at them. They were from the industrial sized container of disposable ones he kept stored at Haven. She had never tossed them out. In fact, she hadn't cleaned out any of his stuff here.

"Come on, I'll take you."

Closing her hand around the earplugs, she shook her head. "I can go by myself."

"I know you can, but that doesn't mean I can't walk you down."

Head high, she straightened her shoulders. One of the hardest things she had to relearn was how to rely solely on herself. It had been excruciatingly hard at first, having been part of a unit for so long, but she'd done it and wasn't about to lose her momentum.

"I said I can go by myself."

"Fine." He moved out of the way. "Glad to know you haven't lost your stubborn streak."

First, he had called her dramatic, and now he was throwing the word she hated only second to dramatic in her face. Stubborn.

"I'm not stubborn. I just refuse to live in fear. If I want to walk alone downstairs in the middle of the night, then I will. Zanmi and their group of freaks are not going to control what I do."

"Trying to control you is like trying to control a natural disaster as it's happening," he grumbled. "It's not possible."

"So, I'm dramatic, stubborn, and now I'm a natural disaster?" Marching past, she stuck her nose in the air. "It's a wonder how you tolerated me for as long as you did."

He caught her by the arm. "You don't have to act tough with me. I'm here, Jamison."

Why did he have to keep reminding her? It was hard enough to hear it the first time, but now, vulnerable after that hellacious dream, it was like rubbing salt on an open wound.

"But you won't always be."

"And whose fault is that?" Giving up, he released his hold. "Not mine."

"Not mine either." She held up the hand holding the earplugs. "And thanks for remembering these. I'm sure they'll appreciate them."

"They will unless, by some miracle, you no longer snore."

The comfort and safety provided by the woman next to her was unmatched. No one mothered like Simone. Crawling into bed with her and Annabeth, the three of them had slept soundly together until dawn.

"Remind me to tell Liam thank you for the earplugs."

Blinking against the sunlight streaming through the blinds, Jamison focused on the battered and bruised face inches from hers.

"I'm not that bad."

They lay facing each other, sharing a pillow. "You're a damn liar, little girl."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like hell."

"At least you can talk now."

"Much to your father's dismay, I'm sure." A deep laugh rumbled out of Simone, and she winced. "How are you feeling?"

"Not dead, but not far off." Jamison stretched and rolled to a sitting position. "Is Annabeth already up?" She sniffed at the scent of bacon coming from the kitchen. "Why is she cooking? She needs to rest."

"Rowan said he would be over bright and early today."

"How did they interact with each other at the hospital?"

Simone rolled her one good eye. "They hardly spoke."

"That's weird, considering they're having sex."

"They are not having sex." Simone struggled to sit up, making it halfway before begrudgingly accepting help. "They are talking on the phone while naked. She went into the whole thing last night before you came down. God help me, that is not something I needed to know, but apparently, she sets up a table with a bunch of... well, you know... things, and he watches her use them."

"Like a masturbation station?" Jamison nodded, impressed by Annabeth's forethought. "That's kind of smart."

"I don't know what's wrong with y'all's generation."

"Listen, old lady, if you do it right, it's as good as the real thing." Sliding off the bed, Jamison held her hand out. "Liam and I would have sex like that when he had to stay overnight for an assignment. It was awesome."

"Sometimes I wish you girls weren't so open with me." Simone hoisted herself up to stand. "I did overhear them arguing when we got back to the house, though. He wanted to stay, and she said that he didn't need to do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"Rowan isn't like the other boring men my baby has dealt with, and that look of ownership he gets in his eyes when he's around her is intense." Simone shuffled over to the closet to get her robe. "It probably sets her on edge, but you know what?"

Jamison grabbed her own robe. The damn thing was becoming like a second skin, and she was tired of it. "What?"

"It makes me like him."

That was a surprise. Simone had been a staunch anti-Rowan advocate since day one.

"Say it isn't so," Jamison teased. "You like Rowan? I'm so going to tell him."

"Leave it be. If he's smart enough to fall in love with Annabeth, and wait as patiently as he has, then he's smart enough to figure out I approve of him on his own."

The idea of Rowan being in love with Annabeth had Jamison pausing. It was hard to imagine. In the years that she'd known him, the man had never had a long-term relationship. "Do you really think he's in love with her, or do you think you're just confusing pent-up sexual need with love?"

"I'm lucky enough to know the difference." Simone smiled at the wedding photo of her and Devon sitting on the dresser. "It's a simple thing to spot once you know what you're looking at. I see it every day with Selah and Lenora, or Samuel and Evie, and even you and Liam."

Simone excelled at knowing when and how to strike a person down emotionally. Crossing the room, she lifted her chin to meet Jamison's eyes. She'd been fifteen when she surpassed Simone in height, but somehow continued to feel small in her presence.

"Do you want me to have Ben send him out to the cottages? Liam will fight him on it, but if it's what you need, then that's what we'll do."

"Dad won't send him away, and I'm surprised you would even consider it."

"Honestly, I wouldn't, but I can still ask your father and let him be the one to say no, so I come out looking like the good guy."

Jamison blinked down at her. "Your parenting skills are scary."

"Impressive," Simone corrected. "My parenting skills are impressive."