The Ones Who Got Away Page 7

  So instead, he focused on doing his nightly routine. One he couldn’t seem to shake even on break. He tucked his gun into his boot next to the bed, within easy reach, and then he double-checked the locks on the doors and windows, making note of all the escape routes.

  Once that was all done, he finally let himself settle into bed, Liv still on his mind.

  In the morning, he’d leave a note under her door with his number in case she ever needed anything. Then he’d head to the lake house before anyone else got up. Billings wanted him to socialize and re-acclimate, but he’d just have to figure out a way to send the right pictures to get by. Because what was the point? In a few months, he’d be back on assignment. A ghost again.

  He didn’t know how to be anything else anymore.

  chapter

  FIVE

  Thump.

  Liv rolled over in bed and blinked in the darkness, the unfamiliar room jarring her for a moment. She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear the cotton from her head.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The soft knocking that had disturbed her sleep came again. What the hell? She sat up and flicked on the lamp, squinting in the sudden light. The knock sounded again but became more insistent.

  “Liv?”

  The voice was muffled. One of her friends? Hard to tell. But the knocking didn’t stop.

  “Okay, okay, hold on.” She climbed out of bed and made her way across the room, her feet moving as though she were walking through marshland, each step slow and cumbersome. She peeked through the peephole, but didn’t see who she’d expected. She frowned and opened the door. “Finn?”

  He stood in the hallway, looking just how she’d left him on the porch—black T-shirt, worn jeans, and thick-soled boots. But his hair was mussed and the look on his face intent. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Okay,” she said carefully.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Oh.” The words sent a wash of warmth through her. “That’s…interesting.”

  He braced a hand against the doorjamb, leaning in, his voice low and dangerous. “I shouldn’t be here. You should tell me to go back to my room. Right now. Tell me, Liv.”

  “Hmm.” She wet her lips, her heartbeat picking up speed. “You’re right. I definitely should.”

  But instead, she stepped back and let the door open wider. His gaze slid down, slowly, slowly, taking in the Long Acre Crusaders T-shirt that barely reached her thighs and her bare legs beneath. He stepped inside. “You should put some clothes on, too. Some pants and maybe a parka.”

  “Yes. Good thinking.” She bumped the door shut behind him and moved closer, putting her hands on his chest. “Wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

  He hissed out a breath at the contact and let his hands slide over her waist, making her T-shirt gather up higher, revealing her cotton panties beneath. She got the sense that she should be more worried about that or question how quickly things were moving, but she couldn’t grab on to either feeling. And when he leaned in and kissed her, she didn’t want to.

  She moaned into the kiss, her fingers curling into his shirt and her body going from simmer to boil. One of his hands slid into her hair and he gripped her, tilting her head back and taking the kiss deeper. Breath and lips and tongues mingled, hungry, desperate. He murmured her name in between, and she responded in kind with a panted please. That was all she could manage, but he must’ve gotten the message. They moved across the room in an awkward tangle of kissing and touching until the backs of her legs hit the edge of the bed.

  They tumbled onto it, his big body pressing into hers as he continued to worship her mouth and then moved down to her neck. She tipped her head back and arched against him. “Liv,” he said, scraping his teeth along her shoulder. “Tell me you want this.”

  It’d been so long. Not just since she’d been with a guy. But since she’d felt like this. This pulsing, all-encompassing need for a man’s touch. For Finn’s touch. “I want you.”

  With that, he shifted and tugged his shirt over his head, revealing finely honed muscles and a dark dusting of hair. No sign of the scar she’d expected from the gunshot. She let her fingers trail over the spot. “There’s no—”

  “Shh.” He cut her off with a quick kiss. “Now you.” He reached for her and pulled off her T-shirt, leaving her in only her panties. He gazed down at her with hungry eyes and brushed the back of his hand over her breast, sending hot shivers along her skin and bringing her nipple to a tight peak. “You’re so goddamned sexy, Livvy. I just want to touch and taste you everywhere. Lick every inch.”

  Her heartbeat pounded, her body aching to grant him that wish. “Yes. That. Let’s do that.”

  His hand traced down slowly over her ribs, across her belly, marking a trail of intention and driving her out of her mind with anticipation. His fingers played at the edge of her panties, and she fought not to arch into his touch.

  “I can see how much you want me,” he said against her ear. “We’ve waited so long.” He tugged at the waistband and let his hand slide beneath, touching her where she needed it most.

  She moaned when his callused fingers found her slick and wanting, her whole body going aflame. Her eyelids fell shut. Yes.

  He nipped at the lobe of her ear, his fingers stroking her deep and slow, and whispered. “But we’re going to have to be fast, or we’ll miss that test in chemistry.”

  “The—” Her eyes popped open, her thoughts scrambling. “What?”

  But now instead of seeing grown-up Finn, the fresh-faced high school version was looking down at her, all eager and urgent. His skilled, sensual touch from before turned fumbling and less sure. She froze, trying to figure out what was happening, but then the banging on the door started again, this time loud and threatening.

  Teen Finn yanked his hand back and turned his head. “Dude, what the hell? Give us a second.”

  Liv tried to back away, the panic rising. “No.”

  “Livvy, it’s okay—”

  The scent of pine cleaner burned her nostrils. “No!”

  The door to the hotel room swung open, and Joseph Miller stepped in with a satisfied smile. Seventeen. Angry-eyed. Deadly. “Well, look what I found. My favorite jock and another desperate girl trying to get his attention. Hope you had fun because time’s up, asshole.”

  Joseph lifted the gun, the barrel looming huge in Liv’s vision.

  A scream ripped through her, trying to warn Finn, trying to do something. But her voice wouldn’t come out. Her hands wouldn’t move.

  A click. A smile. An explosion of sound.

  Then the blood.

  Finn collapsed on top of her, his entire body going limp, eyes vacant.

  The scream escaped now. Over and over, racking her body with its force.

  Joseph stalked toward her, finger on the trigger. “Good news is, no one will care that you’re gone.” He put the gun to her head. “Bye, now.”

  * * *

  The shrill scream tore through Finn’s sleep and jolted him awake. He sat straight up in bed, heart pounding, and blinked into the darkness, sure that he’d woken from a nightmare.

  But then the sound came again. First the horrible scream and then someone banging on a door. Calling for help.

  Shit.

  Finn’s body jumped into action before his brain caught up. He reached into his boot for his gun, hopped out of bed, and ran for the door. His brain kicked into gear when he hit the hallway, all his senses dialing up and calculating things. Which direction the sound was coming from. Places someone could be hiding. If any civilians were in the immediate area. The hallway was empty, but the screams turned louder, with barely a pause between them. He hurried toward the racket and turned the corner at the end of the hallway, gun poised. Rebecca was two rooms down, frantically pounding on the door. “Olivia! Open up! Please.�
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  He lowered his gun and ran the short distance down the hall, the screams tearing at him. Someone was hurting Liv. “Out of the way.”

  Rebecca stepped back, a stricken look on her face. “She won’t answer me. I called Kincaid and told her to find a manager with a key. The front desk isn’t picking up the phone.”

  The sounds of gut-wrenching terror came again. Liv.

  Screw waiting for a manager. Finn jerked the door handle, and when it wouldn’t give, he rammed his shoulder into the door. The handle was new, but the door had seen better days and protested under the jolt.

  “Finn, wait, you don’t have to—”

  He gave another hard shove, and the frame splintered. That was all he needed. He gave one more good push, and it released the lock and let him inside. He charged in. Liv’s screams were twice as loud in the dark. “Get away from me! No!”

  He raised his gun.

  He couldn’t see a damn thing but could hear the mattress squeaking, and Liv continued her desperate pleading. But no one jumped at him or moved in the dark. He reached out blindly and found the light switch.

  “Police! Freeze!” He flicked on the switch, prepared to go to battle, but when light flooded the room, all he saw was Liv bolting upward in the bed. Terror was on her face, her gaze sweeping around the room like a cornered deer.

  No one else was in sight.

  “Liv.”

  But she didn’t see him. Her focus zeroed in on his gun, and her eyes went wide. She scrambled backward against the headboard. “Gun!”

  He immediately lowered the weapon and put a hand out. “Liv. It’s me. Finn. It’s okay. Is anyone else in the room?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Shit. Okay. Hold on.” He did a quick check of the closet and bathroom to make sure nothing was amiss. All the windows were locked. No signs of any struggle. No signs of intrusion. Under the bed was clear.

  He let out a breath.

  A nightmare. She’d had a nightmare.

  He set his gun on the TV stand and moved toward the bed, keeping his hands out in front of him so that if she opened her eyes, she’d see he was unarmed. His gaze swept over her, checking for any obvious injuries.

  There was nothing he could see, but she was gripping her elbows, soaked with sweat, and in a full-body tremble.

  Very much not okay.

  “Liv, baby, are you all right?” he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle. “Talk to me.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, and she jerked away from his touch like he’d burned her. “It’s Finn. You’re okay. It’s over now.”

  “Finn,” she whispered.

  “Yes. That’s right. Just me.” He eased down onto the bed, being careful not to jostle her. “You had a nightmare. Just take a few deep breaths. You’re okay now.”

  She opened her eyes, tears spilling over and making damp trails down her cheeks. “It’s really you.”

  “Of course.”

  Her gaze jumped to his face first, scanning, wary, and then her attention went to his shoulder. She reached out and touched the puckered scar where the Long Acre bullet had exited. “You have a scar.”

  The words seemed out of context, but they seemed to offer her some relief. “Yes.”

  She looked down at her sweat-soaked Green Day T-shirt. She gripped the worn fabric like it was a life vest and nodded, whispering, “Okay. Okay.”

  “Yes, you’re okay.” This time when he reached for her, she came to him, letting him put his arm around her. Her body still trembled, but her breathing had eased down from hyperventilation mode.

  Rebecca and Kincaid, who’d been standing in the hallway, stepped inside, both looking at Liv with worried eyes.

  A guy Finn hadn’t seen before—presumably the night manager—came in behind them. He had to be all of eighteen but had a walk like he was going to go Wild West sheriff on them. “What’s going on here? Is everything all right?”

  “I need a minute,” Liv whispered, turning her face away from the door. “Please.”

  Finn turned, blocking the view of Liv. “Everything’s fine. False alarm.”

  “False alarm?” the guy said with a frown. “Look at the door. My boss is going to be pissed. And y’all woke up half the building. What the hell happened?”

  “I’ll pay for the door,” Finn said.

  “I need to make a police report for property damage. And someone yelled the word gun. If there’s a—”

  Rebecca had taken a few steps inside, and she shifted over in front of the table where Finn had placed his weapon. “There’s no gun,” she said. “Our friend just had a nightmare. We’ll cover the damage.”

  “Sorry for any trouble,” Finn said. “Everything’s under control.”

  “Doesn’t look that way.” The guy tried to peek around Finn and get a look at Olivia. “You sure your friend’s not high or something? Because we can’t have that kind of thing—”

  “Look.” Finn gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to grab his gun, point it at the guy, and inform him he needed to leave—now. But that was Axel talking, the guy who ruled by ruthless intimidation. Finn took a breath, pushing that dark impulse down. “Look. It’s just been a rough day for us all. She had a nightmare. A bad one.”

  “And we’d appreciate a little privacy,” Rebecca said, taking a no-bullshit tone. “This hotel assured us we’d get it.”

  The guy’s attention moved to each of them like he was connecting some dot-to-dot puzzle. Awareness dawned on his face. “Oh, you’re the ones here for the anniversary. So she had a nightmare about…you know?”

  Kincaid had been standing off to the side, watching Liv like a worried mother, but she turned at that. She pulled the pink robe she was wearing more tightly around herself and offered the manager a tight smile. “Sweetheart, I appreciate you rushing up here with me to intervene. That was real helpful and brave of you. But now that we know everything’s all right, we’d all just like to get back to bed. No one wants to be seen by God and all the world in their nightclothes.”

  Kincaid’s sweet-as-pie approach seemed to soften him. He nodded. “Oh, right. Sure. I mean, I guess as long as no one’s hurt, we can just deal with the rest in the morning.”

  “Good plan,” Finn said.

  “Such a smart plan. I’m sure that’s why they put you in charge. Good head on your shoulders.” Kincaid ushered him to the door like she was seeing him off after a dinner party—all smiles and sugar. The guy had no shot against that level of brutal Southern hospitality and offered no further protest. Once he was out in the hallway, Kincaid shut the mangled door behind her and turned around, dropping the Miss America smile. “Jesus H. Christ. Some people can’t take a damn hint.”

  She strode over to the bed. “Liv, are you all right, honey? That sounded like a helluva nightmare…Liv?”

  Rebecca frowned. “Uh-oh. She doesn’t look so good.”

  chapter

  SIX

  “Olivia?”

  Her friends’ concerned voices were like safety ropes dragging Liv out of the terrifying in-between place she’d been stuck in. Kincaid. Rebecca. Both were staring at her. Finn’s arm was around her. Everything was okay now. This was real. Finn had his scar. She wasn’t wearing a Long Acre T-shirt soaked in his blood. Joseph wasn’t going to walk in and shoot them all. She licked her dry lips.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice scraped raw against her throat, and she slipped out of Finn’s hold, suddenly self-conscious about her friends seeing her in this state. “I didn’t mean to scare everyone. I’ll be fine. I’m okay.”

  “Do you need us to get you anything, sweetie?” Kincaid asked, sitting on the opposite side of the bed from Finn. “Water? A pill? A former football player in his underwear? Because we’ve got the last one covered. And I can make the first two happen.”

  Liv looked up at that, registeri
ng the fact that Finn was shirtless and his thick hair was sticking up every which way. Her gaze drifted down to his black boxer briefs. “You’re in your underwear.”

  “’Fraid so,” he said. “Good thing I don’t sleep naked.”

  “In his underwear and running through the hallways with a gun.” Rebecca stood at the foot of the bed, her knuckles white from the grip she had on her elbows. “What the hell was that?”

  A gun. A shudder moved through Liv, the image burned into her retinas. Seeing the gun pointed at her when the lights came on had catapulted her into a panic where she couldn’t tell real from flashback, the images superimposing on each other.

  “I thought she was in trouble,” Finn said calmly.

  “You just have a gun at the ready? You pick up that before pants?” Rebecca insisted. “You scared me half to death.”

  “I’m sorry.” He glanced back at Rebecca, and even in profile, it was clear he meant it. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I thought there was trouble. I’m…a cop.”

  “A cop?” Liv asked, frowning.

  He ran a hand over the back of his neck like he’d rather have any other conversation. “Yeah.”

  Rebecca seemed to have the same reaction as Liv based on the what-the-hell look she gave him. “Your parents told my dad you were working in Europe.”

  “Is that what they’re telling people now?” He sniffed. “Sounds fancy.”

  “Well, that explains the Captain America routine at least,” Kincaid said, waving them off like she couldn’t care less what Finn had chosen to do with his life. She turned back to Liv, laser-focused. “You sure you don’t need anything, hon? Want me to stay in here with you? Go slumber-party style. We can braid each other’s hair and talk about boys in their underwear.”