21. Jamison

"It's the middle of the night."

After changing into some pajamas and a fresh robe, she returned with his bag and found two plates full of pasta and chicken. The lights were dim, so as not to alert Simone, with a single candle lit next to the food set up on the kitchen island.

Pouring two glasses of red wine, Liam shrugged. "It's only some leftovers I dug up in the fridge."

"Dinner and drinks, though?"

"Don't act like a moment of normalcy doesn't sound like a good idea." He handed her a glass. "Because if you deny it, I'll call you a liar."

It really did sound like a good idea. "Not going to deny it."

They sat and ate, filling themselves with Simone's cooking. The familiar flavors worked to remind her that she was safe. She was home.

His phone went off a few times, and when she tried to nonchalantly look at the screen, he placed the phone face down next to his plate.

"Keep it with you at all times." He nodded at her own phone left sitting on the counter. "I'm not kidding."

"Tell me what you're thinking." She dropped the phone into her robe pocket. "It'll make me feel better to hear your theories."

Sadness edged around his eyes. "Once upon a time, you didn't have to ask."

No, she hadn't. Once upon a time, their life had been perfect, and she would have known what he was thinking without much effort. "I guess the fairy tale is over."

He grabbed the bottle of wine to top off their glasses. "We were never a fairy tale, Jamison."

"Could've fooled me."

"Fairy tales involve women waiting to be saved by Prince Charming." Corking the bottle, he set it aside. "I'm no Prince Charming, nor are you some damsel in distress."

"Careful." She smiled as she chewed. "I can hear your inner Bernie coming out."

Before her attack, Bernie Cohen worked as a family therapist, specializing in marriage counseling. She would often watch them interact together, saying how happy she was that her son had fallen for a woman who had the ability to speak her mind.

"I'll tell her that the nagging stuck."

"But really, what's the next step?" She nudged his shoulder with hers. "What should we expect?"

"As I said, I need to draw him out again."

"How?"

Leaning in close, he placed his lips next to her ear. "By using an enticing piece of bait."

Her head snapped around. "I love that you think I'm going to help," she said sarcastically. "Once was enough, thanks."

"And I love that when I say an enticing piece of bait, you naturally assume I'm talking about you."

Finished eating, she took her plate to the sink. "Because you are."

"Yeah, I am," he said, the heat of his stare following her as she cleaned up. "So, what outfit are you wearing to Annabeth's party? Something sexy?"

"It's a costume party."

He snickered. "Please tell me you brought the Mad Hatter costume."

Laughing at him over her shoulder, she really did feel better. The food, the wine, and time alone with him was exactly what she needed to recenter. "Maybe."

"It'll draw Sinclair out for sure."

She paused in her washing, the hot water scorching the back of her hand. "I thought you said he was playing at something and didn't have so-called feelings for me."

"Sometimes, I'm wrong."

Not knowing how to think, she set the dish down and shut off the faucet. "And you're serious about using me?"

When he didn't reply, she turned around, her heart sinking. "You are."

"The only link we have to him is you. Sinclair and Zanmi together isn't a plausible combination, but Sinclair using them because he wants you is a theory I can get behind." Going to the garbage can, Liam scraped the remains of his food into the trash. He hadn't eaten much, but she would save her nagging for later. "Obsessing over you is something I'm well acquainted with, so I know how to use that mindset—"

"Oh, stop." Snatching a dishtowel off the counter, she slapped his bicep with it. "None of the stuff he said was true!"

Bringing his plate over to clean in the sink, he sighed when she crossed her arms and wouldn't let him pass. "It wasn't true, Liam."

"A majority of it was, so what's to say that the rest of it wasn't?" He popped his jaw and gently pushed her out of the way to place his dirty dishes in the sink. "But hey, if you're up for it, we can review the phone call right now and dissect each part."

"Liam."

"Where should we start? The suicide notes? Therapy sessions?" Bracing his hands on the edge of the counter, he kept his back to her. "I know. Why don't we tackle that little comment he slid in there about your honesty track record with me being shitty?"

The chicken and pasta threatened to return, and not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her arms around his waist, placing all her weight against his back.

Leaning on him for strength, as she always did.

"I'm scared."

Her confession chipped away at his anger, breaking it down into nothing. "I would never let anything happen. To say I would lay down my life to protect you is an understatement, and you damn well know it."

"Stop talking like that." Squeezing him until he wheezed, she closed her eyes. "I'll go along with whatever you think is best, but you have to tell me first. Don't surprise me. I can't handle it."

"Of course, you can handle it. You're Jamison fucking Fairweather, and you can handle anything." He shifted around to hug her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "But if I see an opportunity, I'm going to take it. I'm expected to trust you, then you need to do the same in turn."

"I'll think about it."

They loaded the dishwasher so Simone wouldn't fuss in the morning, and he sent a few more texts while she blew out the candle.

"Any news?"

Liam froze in his typing and put the phone away. "Nothing. Are you ready?"

They stepped out onto the patio, the two cops sitting at the table jarring Jamison out of the peacefulness their intimate dinner had created. Another uniformed man stood further back, wearing a jacket with the Fairweather Holdings' logo on it, and holding a cigarette loosely between his lips. The cigarette dropped to the ground when he spotted Liam setting the alarm.

The system beeped, ready and fully armed. Liam took her hand and nodded at the men. "See you in the morning."

Crossing the lawn in silence, Jamison counted the security cameras mounted on various trees. Each came to life when they passed, tracking them as they walked to the cottages. The first batch had been installed after Toby, and it seemed every year more and more were added.

The five cottages along the bayou remained dark ahead, except the one Liam was using. She guessed Rowan was staying in the storage cottage to the right. It held a single twin bed and hopefully he fit on it.

Liam paused on the far side of the Marriage Oak and gazed up at the Spanish moss dangling overhead from the branches. "Maybe we should have planned a wedding here. I can see the appeal."

"No, I want the beach."

"Wanted." Exhaling his disappointment, he continued to watch the branches sway in the night breeze. "You wanted to marry me on the beach."

She let go of his hand, and he allowed it. "I'm tired."

"Jamison—"

"Don't." She stumbled on an exposed root as she retreated.

He dropped his duffle, rushing forward to catch her, but was shoved away.

"Just don't. This is hard enough with everything happening," she rambled, not knowing how or where to begin with what she wanted to say. "I'm scared. I don't know what to do or what questions to ask."

With nowhere to run, she placed her back against the tree, and gathered her wits. After having dinner and relaxing with him, she'd let her guard down. "And then you're here."

"Yep, I'm here." He crowded her, trapping her so soundly she couldn't possibly get away. "Waiting for you to stop with the bullshit."

Every organ in her body trembled when his head dipped. All she had to do was lift onto her toes and their mouths would meet. She wanted it. Without a doubt, she wanted it and could almost hear her soul begging. Screaming for her to let him come home.

"I love you down to the very thing that makes me who I am." His deep voice shook as he spoke, breaking her heart a little more. Taking her face in his hands, he pressed their foreheads together. "Just tell me why. Why did you do it? When did I stop being enough? When did we stop being enough?"

Her eyes fluttered closed, unable to hold his gaze. Standing with him under this tree where so many had taken their vows, she gave up. "You're more than enough."

He needed to know the truth. To walk with her in the pain.

"You're everything." The love she had for him sang in her soul, obliterating all the other pointless crap. The fear and frustration. The disappointment and the pain. These last few months had been a self-imposed hell, worse than anything she could have ever imagined. A torturous existence neither deserved. "I'm so sorry."

Grimacing as if fighting to stay in control of his emotions, Liam dropped his hands. "We're past the sorrys."

He took a step back, but she wouldn't let him get far. With two hands, she grabbed hold of his shirt. "Don't say that."

Anger rippled through his pain, shattering it until only rage remained. He stared down at her. Hard and cold, letting a damn near unbearable silence swell between them. The phone in his pocket vibrated again and again, but he ignored it.

"Liam?"

Scanning the grounds, the guards, and the cameras, he tilted his head as he studied something in the distance.

Confused, she strained to see if there was anything out there. "What?"

"Why is it that every time I see you, you're in a damn robe?" Returning his attention to her, Liam pressed forward, fitting his muscled frame against her soft curves. She groaned, unable to hold it in. "You should never hide your body." With a hard yank, he worked the sash at her waist loose. "It's too perfect."

He spread the robe, his hands stalling when he saw what she was wearing. First the lingerie, then the cat pajamas, and now this.

"I still like to wear your clothes."

His throat bobbed as he took in the sight of her in his T-shirt and the cutoff sweatpants she'd stolen from the duffle bag.

"This is almost as good as the lingerie." He hooked a finger under the waistband rolled to stay on her narrow hips. "Almost."

Tired of waiting, she arched up on her toes and attempted to kiss him.

Expecting the move, he jerked his head back. "No."

She snapped her teeth, the months of sexual frustration reducing her into an animal. "Let's go inside."

"We're not done talking out here."

"What else is there to talk about?" Not beneath pouting, she stuck her bottom lip out and gazed up at him through her eyelashes. "I want you. You want me. The end. Let's have sex."

There was a debate. A quick one, playing out smoothly across his face to where he probably thought he was hiding it well.

And again, his gaze snapped beyond the tree to something on the lawn.

"The hot and cold routine is giving me whiplash, William."

His attention returned to her, and he didn't bother to stop his smile. "But you said sex was off the table."

She let out an inelegant puff of air, her lips flapping on the exhale. "I'm overly tired and clearly fell into idiot mode. Ignore what I said."

"I'm not going to do that." Lowering his head, he laid a kiss on her neck, working his way up. Once he reached her earlobe, he nipped at it lightly. "Sex remains off the table."

If he didn't leave her ear alone, sex wasn't going to be off the table. It was going to be on it, under it, and with her bent over it.

"But that doesn't mean I'm not going to be good to you," he whispered. "How many times since we broke up have you made yourself come while thinking of me?"

"None," she confessed. "I haven't had an orgasm since you left."

Liam's head lifted, and he smirked, his hand diving under her baggy T-shirt. "And do you know why?"

His thumb brushed across a nipple, and she shuddered. Needing to kiss him, she tried again, but again, he wouldn't allow it. "Let me hear your answer."

To everyone else, Liam came off as level-headed and calm. Whenever he met the fresh out of college interns in her department, they would often say he had a golden retriever type of energy. Kind. Loyal. A man with an impeccable reputation and sweet smile.

It always made her laugh.

Not because Liam wasn't those things. He was, and much more. But what no one understood was that beneath that calm demeanor and sweet smile, her golden retriever liked to bite.

Hard.

"Why, Jamison?"

"Because I need you."

Twisting the T-shirt in one hand, he shoved it upward, the action causing the collar to constrict her air supply slightly. Exposed to him and the rest of the world, the cool night air rushed across her skin. Facing away from the house, none of the guards could see, but Rowan or Abe would get an eyeful if they opened their cottage doors.

"And why do you need me to come, Jamison?"

He wasn't looking at her when he asked the question, instead tracing the soft planes of her body on display with his eyes. Since their breakup, she hadn't exactly been taking care of herself, and a healthy dose of self-consciousness kicked in. The exercises she kept up with helped, but when you consumed a pint of ice cream almost every night because it was the only thing you had to look forward to, it really didn't matter. The squishy parts stayed squishy.

He released the T-shirt, only to lock a hand around her throat. "Answer my question."

She licked her lips which had gone dry from all the panting she was doing. "I don't know."

That was not the correct answer.

Using the grip on her neck, he pulled her in for a punishing kiss. The hard crush of his lips reopened the cut left by Michael, but it didn't matter. The relief surging through her veins from the contact overrode the pain, and she whimpered, wanting him to make it hurt.

As their tongues battled for dominance, his hand massaging her breast dragged lower, down to her stomach until it disappeared beneath the waistband of her shorts. The first touch between her legs was like an electric jolt, and she rolled her hips in time with the circling pulses of his fingertips.

Breaking the kiss, Liam watched her, breathing hard as the side of his mouth curved upward in satisfaction. Over in some vague corner of her mind, the sound of her cell phone ringing in the pocket of the robe registered. But before she could process that someone was calling, Liam sank a single finger inside, and she was gone. The entire world could be ending, and she would have no idea. Being filled, and knowing it was him doing it, felt so good.

Bowing forward, she relaxed into the hold on her throat.

"Because it's mine to give." He pumped hard and fast, the palm of his hand slapping against her tender flesh. The sweatpants were loose enough to provide him with a full range of motion, and spreading her legs, she gave him room to do as he pleased. "Your pleasure belongs to me, and I decide when you can have it."

A second finger joined the first, and grabbing his shoulders, she used him as leverage to grind. "Give me."

"Ask nicely, Jamison."

Bare to the world, she rode his fingers, head tipped back, and lips parted. She had never been so needy, craving the release offered to the point of pain. "Please," she begged, through the rough drags of air sawing in and out of her mouth. "Please, let me come."

His knowledge of her body was a dangerous thing, and with a slight shift in his fingers, he hit the spot that would ignite her orgasm with precise accuracy.

"Jesus… Fuck… Liam."

She tried to be quiet. Tried to whisper as her body shook and trembled. But the more she silenced herself, the harder she came.

"Look at you." Liam watched her with amusement as the orgasm took hold and wouldn't let go. "It really has been a while, hasn't it, baby?"

Shuddering violently, she nodded as her eyes rolled closed. "I need more."

He released her throat and dropped the shirt, covering her again. "I'll give you more, but you have to promise me something."

When he removed his fingers, she shamelessly whined in disappointment. This man owned every part of her. Heart. Body. Soul. It was his. She had a lot of mistakes to make up for and would begin to do so as soon as they were inside the cottage.

"Anything." Her head bobbed. "Promise."

The faint sounds of a phone ringing returned, but this time it was coming from Liam's. "Don't get angry."

"What do you mean?"

Answering the call, he placed it on speaker. "Did you get him?"

"Oh, yeah," Rowan shouted at the same time a police siren wailed from the front of the house. "She was right. Sinclair is hanging in a building close to train tracks about sixty miles from here. Police are en route."

Confused as to what was happening, Jamison shoved away from the tree. The blue light of a security camera caught her eye, and it was then she realized that every lens across the lawn was aimed directly at her.

The front door to Rowan's cottage opened in the distance, and he waved. "That show you two put on riled Sinclair up so much he kept hopping from camera to camera, trying to get a better look. The dumbass left a path wide open for me to follow. He even tried to get into Jamison's phone so he could hear."

Liam watched her as he continued to talk to Rowan. "Meet me out front in ten minutes."

"Are we not going with them?" Rowan sounded disappointed. "Damn it, Cohen. I want to be there when they arrest the bastard."

Disconnecting the call, Liam caught her wrist a second before her hand connected with his cheek. "Calm down."

"You agreed not to surprise me!"

"No, I didn't." With a tug, he brought them face to face. "Go inside and let me do my job."

"Oh, so what just happened was you doing your job?"

"Sinclair has been running trials on the new blocks all day, and when you said you wanted to sleep in the cottage, I told Rowan to open the feed." He released her arm. "I thought we would let him sneak a peek at me taking his girl home for the night to find out how he would respond."

"I'm not his girl," she seethed, disgust coiling in her stomach. "How could you let him see me like that?"

"He couldn't see anything. I was careful and never planned for it to go that far, but I—"

"Couldn't help but mark your territory while he watched?"

Liam stilled, his darkening gaze zeroing in on her. "Got a problem with that?"

Another siren whooped to life, blue lights flashing through the oaks.

"There's no way he didn't get the full show of what just went down. There are too many cameras aimed at all the right angles. He saw me, Liam. Naked and letting you all but fuck me against the tree."

"He didn't see you, but fine, have it your way," Liam snapped back. "I'll be sure to cut his eyes out directly before I kill him."

"That doesn't make what you just did right."

A cold, wet wind blew in from the bayou to slap against their bodies. Neither of them moved, oblivious to the chaos unfolding as the news of Sinclair's location spread.

"He couldn't see you, Jamison. You have to trust me. I would never let that man see you. Ever."

"I don't think I can trust you anymore." She didn't mean it but thought him imagining the worst was warranted. "Not after that."

"You know what, that's fair."

Jamison stiffened, her lips parting in outrage. "Why is that fair?"

"Because I'm not so sure I trust you anymore, either."

Ice formed in the very marrow of her bones, and it had nothing to do with the misty rain. He was serious. "Why the hell not?"

Swiping a hand down his face, he turned away. "Go inside, Jamison."

"Love life later." Rowan ran past them, heading to the front of the house. "Let's go, Cohen."

Liam remained where he stood. "I said go inside."

"Let me come with you."

"No."

"I won't get in the way!"

"Fucking hell," Liam hissed and grabbed her by the arm to drag to the patio door. A security guard met them halfway, but he shook his head at the man. "I'll take her in."

He was walking too fast, and Jamison almost tripped when they reached the pavers surrounding the pool. "You can't shut me out forever, William."

"Oh, of that I'm sure, but it doesn't change that I'm not leaving until I know you're inside."

The rear kitchen door flung open, and her father emerged. "What's happening?"

"Take Jamison in and lock up the house." Liam released her right as Rowan's motorcycle roared to life, the growl of its engine carrying through the dark night. "We have a lead on Sinclair."